Deep in the woods of Madison County, the magic of Loch Lonnie swirls in the mist.
Giant wooded guardians, protectors of the Loch since the beginning of believing, stand as silent sentinels to the murky water. Clad in armor stained with autumn’s blood of rusty brown, scarlet red, and burnt orange, they dance in leafy unison to the rhythm of the moon-soaked night.
Whispers of incantations passed but not forgotten linger on the lips of the wind and dissolve the haze into crystallized reality. But ancient words from the Lady of the Lake and Excalibur’s secrets are not spoken this day. Instead, a new language of time travel and vortexes capture the imagination and pose the question, “could it be?”
Guarded by a spirit not long passed, the Loch serves as a gateway from a dimension stifled with unyielding human skepticism to one filled with everlasting life and endless possibilities.
The mist swirls, the water clouds, and once again Loch Lonnie appears to be only a pond. But the spirit of Lonnie smiles and patiently lies in wait for the ones who dare to dream—who dare to believe.