Zephyr Crest, so near the heavens, became the place where the mountain folk pinned their longing to glimpse th…
Zephyr Crest, so near the heavens, became the place where the mountain folk pinned their longing to glimpse the sky.
And so the craftsmen of the mountains drew on the ingenuity of generations to build a towering city that reached toward the heavens. In those days, atop the peak, the turning of countless mechanisms never fell silent, and the lamps high among the clouds never went out. When the clouds drifted and the mists rose, figures moved to and fro among them, as if passing through the heavenly courts themselves. Zephyr Crest truly lived up to its name.
But when the city fell and the lights went out, grief shook the earth. Those who had once seemed almost heavenly became, before long, refugees and wandering dead. Marsh herbs grew by the wells, and wild vines choked the paths. The dream of flight was swept away downstream.
Whenever people speak of it now, none do so without sorrow. In former days, the mountain folk would bring their whole families to climb the peak. To stand but a foot closer to the sky felt as though one might glimpse a little more of Heaven's Will. But does peering into the heavens truly let one understand it? Does touching the heavens truly let one attain it? Better, perhaps, to look each day upon these ruined walls, to remember what has passed, and to take the past as a lesson for what comes after. Perhaps Heaven's Will is to be found there instead.