The cloaked figure has wandered lifetimes to find this place,
where light and stone bend to forgotten truths,
and runes hum in the language of the first dawn.
It is said the gate reveals itself only to those who carry a question so old,
it no longer has words.
The ring is a gate that does not open, but simply waits.
It is not a portal, but a mirror.
And in its stillness, something begins to shift:
The question slowly unmakes itself.
And what remains is not an answer,
but the individual who can live without needing one.