THE HOUSE OF SLEEPING PROPHETSTo the east of Durdur there exists a strange, high mist that moves upon the ground as silently as a cat padding across an open field. The mist undulates gently back and forth, parodying the movements of a woman in her most experienced moments. Occasionally, the mist will part as if to observe the rest of the world. When this happens, for a brief moment one can discern the House of Sleeping Prophets as it sits high atop a hill, stuck firmly into the earth like an old tooth embedded deep into diseased gum.
It is a high, ugly house with thick pillars, ribbed vaults, and flying buttresses. Vines, like elongated fingers, grasp secret crevices and hidden crannies. No doors announce ingress or egress. At one time the House of Sleeping Prophets was pleasing to the ey
