Do I believe in magic? Of course, I am still chasing naiveté

It all began in the most ordinary fashion. Yet, there was a vast beauty and more particularly, significance, to this specific night, not known to most humans living on earth. On the highest green peak of the tallest mountain, the wildest of flowers bloomed only on such occasions. I am, of course, describing the hours between midnight and three in the morning, on the sixth day after every sixth full moon. Any doubts that you may possess about the accuracy of this tale must, at this very moment, vanish, for I do not spread lies.

A tall, frail-looking man stepped forward; seemingly, he appeared right from the steady trunk of the linden tree. Draped across his downward swooping shoulders was a burgundy cloak so long that it dragged across the leaf-covered path. The walkway resembled a boulevard, but with an unpaved natural foundation found in woods of this latitude and covered with foliage of varying vibrant colours. The almost-boulevard opened onto a steep downward slope and at daybreak, the most magnificent sunrises in the world could be observed while perched upon a rock, not far from the beautiful linden. {...}