DaoistYddFra

Life can push you to the age of insanity,.A brief glimpse into Errin’s Journey and The Forgotten Valley.

Errin, a man of unknown origins, stumbles upon The Forgotten Valley, a place of profound mystery, where time moves differently, and reality bends like a dream. Drawn in by its untouched beauty and the simple life it offers, he soon finds himself entwined with its people, its customs, and a woman who binds him to the valley in ways he never anticipated. As he fathers children, his role transforms from an outsider to an integral part of the valley’s hidden truths.

But The Forgotten Valley is not just a place—it is an enigma. A world that exists between existence and illusion, where time can stretch a century into a fortnight. Errin lives through lifetimes, experiencing the joys of family, the serenity of nature, and the burden of questions that have no answers. His children grow into extraordinary beings, drawn into powerful sects beyond the valley, where cultivation, trials, and the fate of entire bloodlines are decided by strength.

Yet, a lingering uncertainty remains. Is The Forgotten Valley a sanctuary or a prison? Is his life there real, or merely a fleeting dream? When he finally leaves the valley, time reveals its cruel hand—only twelve years have passed in the outside world, while he has lived for over a century within (144year). Doubt consumes him. Was it all an illusion?

As he nears the end of his life, longing for the valley but unable to return, he entrusts the journey to his sons. Three set out, but only one succeeds. That son finds the valley changed—vast, filled with countless souls living in quiet harmony. His experience mirrors but does not replicate his father’s. And in the end, when Errin dies, he wakes once more… Was The Forgotten Valley real, or was it simply a dream too vivid to forget? Is life real, a dream or a mirror of domething else?

join me and lets walk the journey of ERRIN the outsider

ERRIN THE OUTSIDER

The Canvas of Existence

The vast emptiness stretched before him, infinite and untouched. But for the first time, Errin did not see it as a void to be feared—he saw it as potential.

Like a blank canvas awaiting the artist's brush.

His breath steadied as realization settled deep within him. He had spent so long searching for meaning, for a purpose written in stone, for answers hidden in ancient texts and whispered by unseen forces. But the truth had never been in the past.

This emptiness was not a prison. It was not a test. It was an invitation.

Creation is not without consequence.

The voice's warning still echoed in his mind, but he did not hesitate. Every act of creation carried weight—every stroke of a brush shaped the final masterpiece.

But that did not mean one should not paint.

Errin raised his hand, and for the first time, he did not reach for power, nor for destiny.

A single spark of light danced at his fingertips, swirling and shifting, forming and unforming. He let it flow, let it take shape—not as something forced, but as something born from his very being.

Not a world dictated by fate, nor by rules imposed upon him.

His heartbeat resonated through the void. The emptiness trembled.

And with the first stroke of his creation—

chapter 33:The Canvas Of Existense