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If this is the true False Icon—what a strange notion—you certainly cannot trust it, but whatever its nature, it clearly wields great power in this place. You give it the slightest nod, and a silvery wave washes over you.

Even in this half dream you ache from a half dozen wounds, but as the wave recedes, your injuries have vanished, your pain banished. As the False Icon fades, you almost think you can read the symbols churning inside it: answers to what this place is and where you are. You remember old stories…when its peers defeated the False Icon, it fled to every time and every space but could not escape them.

You try to piece things together as the gray monolith fades until you realize you can still feel it echoing in your hands and feet. You turn your throbbing hand over…

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