The ground grows soft. The sky dissolves into everlasting grey mist which is interrupted by no sun or rain. You can lose yourself in that haze, and many have, wanderers and vagrants venturing to the end of the world to disappear in solitude. The world does not miss them.
There are cities in these places, cities of the lost and lovelorn. Cities silent and still as the ground they occupy. These shifting cities have a tendency to be absorbed by the mist, vanishing as quickly as they appear. Too often they are nameless. Too often they are impossible to find before they dissolve.
You stand now before one of these cities.