Local bards claim the Revel sits atop an old crossroads where the borders between the Material Plane, the Feywild, and a minor patch of the Astral Plane are thin. The stage's sigils are said to be carved from a fallen star and tuned to 'call' audiences with the right cadence. Rumor insists that when the lanterns all burn white and the Emberwreath is wreath-shaped in light, one can hear an otherworldly applause — the true rooms beyond the stage briefly open to traveling troupes from other planes. Some insist the Revel once hosted a performance that bound a patron's sorrow to the music, turning it into a living lament that still whispers under the floorboards.