From “Crisis in Asgard” - Patrick Doyle
A
river of stars flows down from the Dark Mountain and dazzles the eyes
by day or night. The pool it flows from has never been seen, deep within
the mountain’s cloud, but there are those who say it is birthed at the
heart of the world. It whispers as it streams over the molten rock but
thunders where it meets the Yellow River at Resurgam Falls. A sacred
place that binds earth and sky, fire and sea, Resurgam Falls draws
immortals and mortals alike, to the peril of the former and the
salvation of the latter. Enter for worship or because of avarice, for
ambition or simple wonder, it is the doom of all who come that they
shall find what they truly seek.
Listen
for the tread of those who gather now. A flutter of wings, a tentative
step, the smallest of things can disturb the constant thunder for the
thunder is music not noise and the melody is changed every time someone
or something beholds the hallowed cascade.
Twirling
down through the mist, a flower faerie flits, her eyes alight with
mischief, heedless of the rocks and rapids. She comes to play a deadly
game. A surge of heat blasts through a crevice on the western side and
the Lord of Chaos appears. Curved horns, rugged mane, a grimace on his
face, he comes for answers. Bubbles filter up from the churning of the
waters in the estuary, Old Mother Turtle breaks the surface and swims
with ancient strength toward the base of the Falls. She comes to die.
Three
would be a fitting number for any story but in this one there is a
fourth and a fifth: a brother and sister playing on the banks of the
Yellow River. Caught up in their own joys and fears, they do not know
where they are about to tumble into or whom they are about to meet or
what will happen to them there or how they will leave or when. Some of
these things will not be discovered until the end of the story. But the
why will be understood at once.
