Down, down to the mouth of the cave, you follow the path you have always been walking.
Inside the cave, a shadow sharpens into focus – a faceless, wordless form, melting and shifting in the shadows, sprouting features every time you hold a thought. It moves towards you and you press back against the rock in open horror.
You have learned everything you can; now it falls to you to give a name, a face, a form to your tradition. Sing it into the world with words, shape it with your thoughts and hands. You have already brought it this far just by thinking, just by walking the path to this place. Now you have seen it, you know it will always be here.
Alongside the form, you fall to your knees with your head in your hands, while it writhes and grunts through vocal chords half-formed.