Time feels different here.
It feels like forever
since the portals appeared.
This place makes no sense.
Gravel underfoot,
with flowers and trees
that track every step.
Vines retract when touched,
and creatures that look
like something from a fairy tale.
Even these plains
just look wrong.
The static buzz
that lingers in the air
almost seems natural.
At night,
silver lights illuminate the sky,
as if part of the atmosphere.
It’s colder than it should be,
but fire won’t light.
The air shifts.
It must be a storm.