Back

# Waverider Expedition - Kaelthir, the Shrouded Cradle

Waterwall, seen from below

The river narrowed as it climbed into the mountains, its current growing faster, colder. Mist hung low, veiling the black cliffs on either side.

The small boat creaked as Solonex guided it through the last bend. Behind him, Eira kept her hand on the tiller, while Gato crouched in the bow, eyes scanning the fog. Phaedros sat amidships with his instruments, noting bearings no map could ever mark.

"Too narrow for charts," he muttered. "The current runs from the north, but the wind blows the other way. It makes no sense."

"Rivers rarely do," Solonex said, steady on the oar. "Especially the ones we weren't meant to find."

The mist brightened ahead. A sound grew, not wind, not thunder, but the endless roar of falling water.

Gato looked back. "You hear that? Sounds like the gods arguing."

Eira shaded her eyes. "That's no storm. That's the end of the world."

They came around the bend - and saw it.

A wall of water thundered down from somewhere beyond sight, white and furious, its spray turning the air to rain. Beyond it was only light and vapor. The sound swallowed speech.

They let the boat drift in awe. The falls were too wide to see both edges at once, too high to guess where they began.

Phaedros leaned forward. "It's not just a river," he shouted. "It's a curtain. Something's behind it."

"Behind that?" Eira laughed. "If there is, it doesn't want visitors."

"Still..." Gato said. "Look how the mist rises. Like breath."

They lingered a moment longer, watching the water crash and surge, until Solonex spoke.

"We've gone far enough."

Reluctantly, Phaedros nodded. "Aye. The charts will call it impassable. That will have to do."

They turned the boat.

That was when they heard it. A low, rolling bellow that shook the air, deeper than thunder, more alive than stone.

Eira froze. "What in all hells was that?"

"Echo," Phaedros said, too quickly. "The water playing tricks."

But Solonex's eyes were on the mist above the falls.

Through it, something moved. A vast, slow shadow, sliding along the cliff face. Not shape, not form - only the suggestion of enormity. The air vibrated with its passage.

Then another answered, fainter, higher up, a second shadow gliding through the cloud.

The bellow came again, this time softer, almost mournful.

They sat still as the current took them, no one daring to speak until the roar of the falls faded behind them.

Finally, Gato said, "You think that was..."

"No," Solonex interrupted. "I think we saw a trick of light and fog."

"Right," Eira said slowly. "Fog with wings."

Phaedros looked back once more, his voice low. "There are stories," he said. "Of a hidden valley beyond the mountains. Warm, green, untouched. They say the dragons that never ascended guard it still."

"Stories keep men warm at night," Solonex said. "Let's keep our eyes on the river."

They rowed in silence, the mist closing around them.

For a long while, nothing stirred, until the clouds above shifted, and a vast shape moved within them once more, following. Wings the size of sails, gleaming faintly bronze, keeping pace just out of sight.

Then the mist swallowed it whole.

Back