Somebody falls into the rivers of Fay
As they do, the mountain seems to cool slightly. The waters shine as they seem to grow more pure, with even the ice upon the water gaining consistency like glass. At the edge of the water, a needle, silkshot, staff and book lie in an orderly fashion. On occasion, those who look into the lake seem to spot a flicker of a tall moth, or perhapse a trio of horned beings. Whatever the case, the area seems at peace