The ghost-like vapor shrouded the landscape with clouds of spirits and glowing white phantoms. The mist slowly drifted through the sky and around the jagged peeks of a silver gray mountain. Deep within that mountain ran a river.
The river was a river of hope, of dreams, and of purity. Wise shamans told of it, children dreamt of it, and men wept over it. It was the river of Gods and Goddesses. It came up from the heart of the earth and pored from the mouth of a sacred cliff.
The cliff was carved into statue-like pillars, each one standing over six-hundred feet tall. No one knew who carved them or how they were so masterfully carved. They just existed and always had, standing like ominous guardians. Most of them resembled young men. The two pillars on the outer most reaches of the cliff looked like bards with lutes in their hands and songs on their lips, but frozen in stone so the song could never be finished. The next two were heavily armed warriors: a shield, a sword, and plate mail armor adorned their stone bodies. The third pillars in were completely naked. Each of the magnificent statues looked like work by Michelangelo. They both faced the center and had one hand on the shoulder of the next pillar, which were the farthest in. These pillars weren't men, but Goddesses. Each strand of their hair were delicately carved from the gray cliff and their thin dresses gracefully flowed down their alluring bodies to their delicate feet. Between them was a massive lion head.
The mouth of the great lion was open wide and from it pored the river in a amazing aqua blue waterfall. The cold and icy liquid of the falls plummeted hundreds of feet from the cliff, pounding on the crystal clear water below, as if in a race with itself to get to the fringed bottom.
The waters of the falls fell upon a lake of dew, so calm that even the falling waters could hardly disturb it. It had no life, for the lake was to sacred for slimy fish or weeds.