Old, partially crumbled buildings linger in the corners of every city, every tamed forest and field. They are overgrown with grape vines and deep purple moss. These are the Churches of the Purple Glint, places of revelry and devotion to Dionysus.

The festivities here welcome both those who seek nights of senseless ecstasy, but also those who seek realisation. For those who are stumbling lost, waiting for an epiphany, it is believed that joining the festivals may provide answers from within.