On the Banks of the Stonespear

As a child, I spent my days tending the fields and driving the cart to and from Mar Dhelboran. All the while the Stonespear River ran alongside me, a rushing roadway of people and goods and stories.

When my work was done, when the sun still outshone the gleaming towers, I would run to the banks of the river. There I'd quickly shed my clothing and step into the shallows. The water was always cold, but I threw myself in all the same. I spent many quiet hours there, floating on my back, gazing at the shapes in the clouds.

Unlike me, the river moved with purpose, dodging the stones that emerged from the earth on a journey to find its end. I knew of the Rift, of course, but it was a dangerous place beyond the city, not fit for a child.

It was not until I entered adulthood that I saw the Neverending Falls. It was a brisk winter day, the sun low in the sky. The fields lay barren, waiting for spring, and I found myself with more time than sense. And so I reached the edge of the Rift of Twisting Stones. Never before had I seen so much nothing -- a void in the earth, a remnant of the gods. Far across I could pick out the lights of our sister cities, each with a view as grand as mine.

But I turned my gaze aside.

Here the Stonespear River finally met its end, gleefully throwing itself from the edge into the abyss below. The mighty churning current faltered as it fell, turning to mist before the darkness below could take it. Here went my oldest companion, mighty and proud, turned to nothing by the maw of the Rift.

I have not been back to the falls since. I tend my fields and drive my cart to and from Mar Dhelboran. All the while, the Stonespear River runs alongside me, a rushing roadway with an end.