Night stretches over a vast landscape. Beneath the dimly glittering canopy, there is a barely perceptible presence of large forms.
As vision adjusts to the moonlight, the forms become clearer, and when a fire is lit, they are fully revealed in their scale and splendour. They are great stones, arranged in a circle—an ancient remnant of a forgotten ceremony; an indicator of something obscured to the conscious mind, but known to the instincts.
Around the flames, along the stones, and through the darkness, an aroma drifts; a woody, spicy, resinous scent, distinguished by Frankincense, Hay and Myrrh.
The fire crackles. The stones loom. The sense of ceremony heightens.