A forlorn breeze tumbles across the clearing, tumbling leaves and rustling grass. Giant monoliths of stone are scattered seemingly mindless throughout of the meadow, some pretending to still be in place while others have long since given up, allowing the earth to slowly swallow them. Weeds infest the area, climbing over the stones like vines, covering up large parts of the ancient writing scrawled across their sides. The familiar roar of water echoed through the quietness, muffled by the dense field of trees that surrounded the clearing. A feeling of loneliness pervaded the area, a feeling of a glory that had tumbled into despair.
A palace of the gods, now nothing more than a palace of weeds.
