Transmissions

Orientation is fluid within the arcs. Rotation of form invites rotation of mind. Briefly, I walked the wall as floor, until cognition restored the fall.

A large section of the North Eastern Hemisphere is covered by dense temperate and boreal forests. Over an area of approximately 500 square kilometres, the skyline is dotted sporadically with large monolithic structures, particularly interesting as they all hover around ten to twenty metres above the treeline.

It spun, almost imperceptibly, though there was no wind at all. There was a sense that invisible forces were pushing and pulling me; as if I was being rotated in opposing directions, the strain emptying my lungs. As I moved closer to it, the silence, unnoticed until now, became total.

An account by an unknown author pertaining to phenomenon witnessed at various doorways within the maze complex.

Routine scans of the Maze revealed an anomaly—an exposed stairway where none should exist. A drone survey confirmed the impossible: a passage where up became down, a loop without exit. The steps were worn from centuries of use, but by whom? And how?