Prologue: The Song of the River
In the heart of the Great Valley, a river sang. Its waters flowed endlessly, shimmering under the sun, twisting and turning through hills, meadows, and forests. The river was old, older than the tallest trees that lined its banks, and it whispered secrets to those who would listen.
Long ago, before cities grew and before the land was divided by roads, people lived by the river, honoring it as a source of life. They knew its value, not just for quenching thirst, but for the strength it gave their bodies, the clarity it brought to their minds and the peace it offered their spirits. They drank from it, bathed in it, and respected it.
Yet, with time, many forgot the old ways. The importance of water, once sacred, became a simple thing, taken for granted. But there were still those who remembered—the Watchers of the Stream—guardians of the river's health, and by extension, the health of all who lived beside it.
One evening, under a sky that blazed with the colors of dusk, an old Watcher named Lora sat on a stone by the river’s edge. The water was clear as glass, reflecting her weathered face and the clouds drifting lazily above.
She knew a change was coming.
The earth was speaking in whispers again. And soon, the river’s song would need to be heard by all.