Lake Of Healing
The ghost-like vapor shrouded the landscape with clouds of spirits and glowing white phantoms. The mist slowly drifted through the sky and around the jagged peeks of a silver gray mountain. Deep within that mountain ran a river.
The river was a river of hope, of dreams, and of purity. Wise shamans told of it, children dreamt of it, and men wept over it. It was the river of Gods and Goddesses. It came up from the heart of the earth and pored from the mouth of a sacred cliff.
The cliff was carved into statue-like pillars, each one standing over six-hundred feet tall. No one knew who carved them or how they were so masterfully carved. They just existed and always had, standing like ominous guardians. Most of them resembled young men. The two pillars on the outer most reaches of the cliff looked like bards with lutes in their hands and songs on their lips, but frozen in stone so the song could never be finished. The next two were heavily armed warriors: a shield, a sword, and plate mail armor adorned their stone bodies. The third pillars in were completely naked. Each of the magnificent statues looked like
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