The Village of the Painted Cage
Subject: The Village of the Painted Cage (A forgotten legend...)
We haven't gathered around the fire in some time, storytellers. While I have been away, deep in the forge building the Protocols, I stumbled upon an ancient fragment of lore that felt too important not to share with you first.
It’s a story about how we stay trapped, not by iron, but by belief.
The Village of the Painted Cage
For generations, the people of the Valley of Echoes lived inside a massive, shimmering dome. It was beautiful in a terrible way—woven from threads of glowing gray mist that pulsed with a low, hypnotic hum.
They were told by their elders—who were told by their elders—that the dome was protection. Outside lay chaos, beasts, and the void. Inside was safety. The price of this safety was simple: do not touch the walls. Do not question the hum.
Among them lived Kaelen. Like many of you, Kaelen felt a restless heat in the chest that the gray mist couldn't cool—the dormant spark of the Untamed waiting to awaken.
One day, chasing a stray thought that felt dangerously new, Kaelen sprinted too close to the edge of the village.
tripped, falling hard against the shimmering gray wall.
Kaelen braced for the burn. Braced for death.
But Kaelen didn't hit a wall. Kaelen fell through it.
The fall ended on damp, cool grass on the other side. Looking back, Kaelen expected to see a breach, a hole in the dome.
There was no dome.
There never had been.
Looking back at the village, Kaelen saw the people walking in tight circles, stopping abruptly at invisible barriers, flinching away from empty air. The "glowing gray mist" was just a low hanging fog. The "hypnotic hum" was just the collective sound of them whispering their own limitations to each other, over and over again.
The cage wasn't built of magic. It was built of obedience. They were prisoners only because they agreed to believe in the prison.
Kaelen stood up, the ancient, raw power within finally igniting. There was a choice now: go back into the fog and pretend the walls were real, or let out a roar that might just shatter the illusion for everyone.
A Question for the Storytellers:
We all have "painted cages"—pre-programmed beliefs we were taught are solid walls, but are actually just mist.
Looking back on your own journey, what was a "wall" you were terrified to touch, only to find out it wasn't real the moment you pushed against it?
Share your story below. Let’s break some illusions today. 👇