Just a little farther now…
You can feel it, can’t you—the cool mist in the air? We’re close.
The forest path narrows, the moss-covered ravine pressing in. One more turn up ahead…
There it is.
The Waterfall of Mesmer, like liquid diamond, cascading into a pool so vividly turquoise it could well be a painting. The water foams, eddying around moss-slick boulders before vanishing through a cleft in the cliffside, swallowed by the earth itself.
But we’re not stopping here.
See that trail, snaking up the cliffside? Careful now, it’s steep, and the mist makes everything a wee bit treacherous. But just a little higher, now, and I promise—it’s worth the wait.
The forest is swallowed by the roar of water as you slip behind the waterfall’s curtain. The air is damp, thick with the scent of wet stone and something stranger—floral, but sharp.
Lush vines curtain the cliff face, tiny, unfamiliar blossoms crowding every shadowy crevice. A pale purple moth flits from one to the next, a lime-green frog watching it with interest.
A whole world, hidden behind the waterfall.
“Hold this a moment, will you?”
You take the lantern as your guide retrieves thumb-sized fire sticks from their pack, the lamp flaring to life.
Parting the vines, and there it is: a dark mouth in the rock. The fabled Cave of Mesmer, all too real. But are all the tales true?
Only one way to find out…
The passage is narrow, uncomfortably so, the walls glittering with quartz, catching the lantern light like fireflies trapped in stone. Strange carvings spiral across the surfaces, their meanings lost to time.
But one thing is clear: you’re not the first to walk this path.
Deeper still and the ceiling arches, enough that you no longer have to stoop. Rolling your shoulders, you see that the ceiling is studded with amethyst. It’s cool and smooth, humming faintly beneath your fingertip.
And then the tunnel opens.
A chamber, roughly circular, its perimeter home to a melting forest of stalagmites. Other passageways branch off into darkness, goosebumps prickling your arms. Anything could be waiting back there.
But your guide is already beckoning you to a shallow cavity in the wall. Swinging the lamp to the opening, you spy a wooden box.
The lid is carved with symbols matching those on the passageway’s walls. You lift it with care, afraid the rusted hinges might snap clean off. Peering inside, the box is…empty?
No, not quite. In the corner, nestled on a scrap of cloth lies a small pendant. It looks handmade, a smooth riverstone wrapped in copper wire, green with age, strung on a braid of hemp.
“But…this is wrong. Shouldn’t there be a scroll?”
“Ah, right you are. This was left as a trade by the ones who came before us.”
“A trade? By who?” Had we truly come all this way for nothing?
“Eowyth and Mateu.” Your guide closes the box with a wink. “If you want to know what they found—well…you’ll have to ask them yourself.”
🔎 Read the short story, Falling Phoenix, to uncover your next clue.
Heads up: it’s spicy! 🌶️
