You walk past the gates, and through the powerful spell that conceals a battlefield for Gods, modelled on Halo’s Valhalla multiplayer level. Old Gods never quit – they just come to places like this and offer themselves as sacrificial colossi for today’s up and coming deities.
We can’t be bothered to describe the physical reality of a situation where lumbering skyscrapers kick the shit out of each other above and around you. You have probably seen many films where that happens. You are totally out of your depth.
But what about the psychedelic reality? Being there when a whole body of belief, a way of seeing the world embodied in a fire-eyed bear, a raging bull, a feathered serpent or a stout juggernaut walks out of the tall pines and the ragged mist below with the weapons of its people?
What does it feel like when the old god shouts a challenge and charges up the valley to test the mettle of the Young Gods, surely die, abandon the dreams of humans and vanish into their history?
Plate tectonics as drama instead of geology, pillars of light jumping from Earth into the Sky, the dance of vast shapes caught somewhere in between this world and many others. A discontinuity in the fabric of things as new myths take shape and souls migrate across the frontiers of new empires thus formed. But also continuity, as human tribes endow new symbols with old powers, build up castles that have minds and cower in their shadows.
There’s no escaping from it, we need the magic.
You somehow survive the mutilation of the soul-scape and the obliteration of an old time relijun, and make it through the valley, and to a mountain.