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Far to the southeast a debris cloud rose from the mountains. The mountains disappeared in a puff of dust, but just on the horizon something fell. There was quake: something made impact south, at the border of the Whispering Woods.
Then, one day, he came across a large lake. A tower stood in the center of it, but Makshab saw no way to reach it from where he stood. He sat down by the shore and listened to the lapping waves.
“Where do you lead me, my Master?” Makshab prayed. “You make a path ready for me, but where will it take me?”
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