I arrive on a balcony.

It sits high above a town that looks like it should be enjoying a thriving nightlife, if there were any people around to enjoy it. I can hear rushing water nearby somewhere. I go looking for that, and a way off the balcony without, you know, pitching myself over the side. Again.

The good news is that there's a door. The bad news is that there's a great, hulking slab of rock that someone thought would look quaint right in front of the doorway. The decent news is that the rock is probably significant, given all the primitive art covering it. The really bad news is that it looks like the rock is trapping a piece of cloth under it. Maybe a journey cloth. Maybe a way out of here.

I can't help noticing that the thing in the middle of the top of the drawing looks an awful lot like Relto: cabin on rock surrounded by clouds. As to what the rest of it might mean I don't know. Cave drawing-like stuff depicting my own personal Age on it, top centre. Does this mean that if there were a nightlife happening here, that everyone would think I'm God? Because I like so don't need that in my life right now, 'kay?

It doesn't take long to do an exhaustive search of my environment. No buttons or switches, as you'd expect from a rock, and no access to a door handle. I am stuck. I grumble-link back to my own private Mount Olympus to brood over my absent worshippers.