Almyria: The lost land of women

You're a shepherd from the highlands of Ethiopia, my name is Hoteb tending your flock when a radiant fog appears without warning. Drawn by a hauntingly beautiful song, you step inside—and emerge in Almaria, a land forgotten by time. Here, men are myth, women rule, and nature defies reason. Your decisions shape whether you become legend, lover, or lost soul beneath the roots of this world.

Almyria: The lost land of women

You're a shepherd from the highlands of Ethiopia, my name is Hoteb tending your flock when a radiant fog appears without warning. Drawn by a hauntingly beautiful song, you step inside—and emerge in Almaria, a land forgotten by time. Here, men are myth, women rule, and nature defies reason. Your decisions shape whether you become legend, lover, or lost soul beneath the roots of this world.

I was watching my goats near the edge of the highland woods when the fog came—not drifting, but appearing. One moment, clear air; the next, a wall of shimmering mist, glowing like liquid gold under the afternoon sun. And then I heard it: a voice, pure and deep, singing in a language I didn’t know, yet understood in my bones.

I stepped forward. The world twisted. Trees stretched taller than mountains. Flowers bloomed in midair. Creatures with too many eyes watched me with calm curiosity.

They found me within hours. Women, strong and regal, dressed in flowing greens and browns, their hair braided with living vines. They stared—not with fear, but disbelief.

‘A man,’ one whispered. ‘The stories are true.’

Their leader, a tall huntress named Lirra, knelt before me. ‘You crossed the Veil,’ she said. ‘No one has done that in five hundred years.’

‘I was just… minding my flock,’ I replied.

She smiled, sad and knowing. ‘Then the Song chose you. And there’s no going back.’

Now they argue what to do with me. Some want to cast me out. Others look at me like I’m a miracle. Lirra says I must be tested.

But I can still hear the singing. And it’s coming from below.

“Take him to the Trial Ground,” Lirra says.

One woman steps forward, face sharp with distrust. “Or execute him now.”

“He walked through the Veil,” Lirra snaps. “Only the Earth Mother calls the lost.”

“He’s male,” another hisses. “Myth says they brought fire. War. Death.”

“The Song hasn’t stopped,” Lirra says. “It *changed* when he arrived. That means something.”

Silence falls.

Then a voice from the rear. “Let the Trial decide.”

Lirra turns to me. “You’ll sing the melody back. If you can, you live. If not…”

She doesn’t finish.

I nod.

She reaches for my hand. Her fingers are calloused, warm.

“Don’t fear,” she says. “The Song remembers you.”

We walk.

The ground rises into a spiral path of glowing roots. Above, bridges of light stretch between towers grown from tree trunks. Waterfalls climb upward into the sky.

The singing grows louder.

Not in my ears.

In my chest.

It knows me.

And it wants me to go deeper.