The Unknown

No one has ever seen the Unknown, not really. Yet so many claim to, boasting and weaving tales about how they survived the encounter and came back more powerful, more... something. These stories - these lies - are more about themselves than the Unknown. The truth is, not a single person can agree on what this creature looks like or if it even is a creature. Some say it might be a roaming city, or a restless mountain which is never in the same place. Others believe it's an old god, a remnant of times long gone, an echo of their existence left to wander the Feywild for all eternity. A bad omen. A sign of good luck. Evil. A blessing. Dangerous. A guardian.
The Unknown is everything and nothing all at the same time. And thus it should remain.

The Myth

It always starts the same way. A massive figure looming in the distance, surrounded by fog, a mere suggestion of a vague silhouette. It moves slowly across the landscape, and could almost be mistaken as part of it, for it makes no sound, has no distinct features. Many say it's merely people seeing shapes and forms where there are none, and making up wild stories from there. They do it with clouds, why not with fog, and smoke. Many disagree.
No matter what comes next in the tale, in a way, it is all the same as well. A lie, a story well told. But in a land of stories such as the Feywild, these tales have power, they can influence the world around you. But for all the stories people tell, for are the legends, and myths, and cautionary tales, the Unknown is... different. Stories come to life in the Feywild. You can find them if you're lucky, or if you're very persistent. The people who tell them, as wild as they try to make them, as original a storyteller as they claim to be, they still have certain beats they have to meet for a story to be recognizable. For it to be True. So the Unknown always starts the same way... and then always twists into lies.
It's a colossal creature covered in fur, no visible face, larger than anything you've seen, and yet it makes no sound as it treads the ground, the land around it does not shake nor does it break. No, that is wrong - it's an old forgotten city of the gods, and those who can reach it will be awarded riches and powers beyond their imagination. No, I knew someone who swore they had reached the Unknown, and it was a vile creature of many faces, their eyes hollow and shining with a piercing light that would let you see how you would lie, that would make you face all of your fears and drive you mad.
It is everything, and it is nothing.
But you see where this all goes wrong, right. For people to know these things, they would have to be able to reach the Unknown. They would have to be able to prove it, to show something that they took from that experience. Because if anyone had reached the Unknown... then it would become Known. It would change, turn into something else, and then it would be gone, no longer being what it had always been. That's how things are. If you change their nature, they're not themselves anymore.
No, let it roam the land. Let it be what it has always been - a part of the Feywild as much as any other story, but one you cannot prove, one you cannot reach. There are certain things which must be as they've always been, or one risks unraveling the world. You cannot know what is unknown. Let whatever it might be roam, surround itself with fog, be a question mark forever in the pages of the Feywild. Let it be a myth in a land of stories, an uncertain descant over the main melody, ever-present, but faint.
The Unknown is unattainable. Unreachable. If it were anything else, it would not be what it is.

Know Yourself by Dawid Planeta