You follow the stream, walking against the current. The ground rises steadily, the mist thinning with your ascent. Eventually, the final strands dissipate, and you find yourself looking upon a valley of singular and pristine beauty.
A verdant and unspoiled plain of grassland rolls out before you, its surface dotted with woodland and crossed with streams. Not far distant, a small herd of deer is grazing, oblivious to your presence, while all around, gray, somber mountains rise up, almost protectively, to encircle the valley. As you take in the view, you realize that Svarog, Ziva, and Veles are all standing close by, watching you.
"It's beautiful," you say, truthfully. "Where are we?"
"This is the Valley of the North Wind," explains Ziva. "This is where your ancestors lived, long ago. It is a special, unique place, where the boundary between the world of mortals and what you call the spirit world is thin."
"Here, the unexpected becomes common," continues Veles, "and feats of magic never conceived of before can take place. It was here that the shamanic tradition of your people began, and where we, their gods, were born."
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