In the snowy wilds of Japan's Yamagata Prefecture, where winter wraps the land in an icy hush, something eerie stirs in the Zao Mountains. As the temperature drops and the storms rage, the trees on these slopes begin to transform—until they no longer look like trees at all.

Imagine this: you're standing in a quiet plaza in the steamy town of Papantla, Veracruz. The scent of sweet tamales drifts through the air. A tall pole—nearly 30 meters high—rises above the trees. Flutes start to play, slow and haunting. And then… men begin to fly.