The roar of the Lanaha reached his ears long before their little group came to the spire late in the evening. Einith had never seen the gargantuan stone spike that cleaved such a powerful river in two, but the reality of it was far more than any story could convey.
It rose at an angle out of the forest loam like the Gods had used it as a dark gray javelin to kill some ancient beast. The spire was so big around that it would take half a candle mark to circle around to the other side, if the river didn’t smash into it.
“As ever, it looks just the same as the day it was made,” Lasra told him from his seat in the cart. There was that same bitter sadness he had seen the last time the Archmage spoke of his battle with Casias as he looked on the spire. “All of the years I had to come back to th
