Leaving the broad expanse of the Mother River behind, the Tranquil Ripple banked east, following a winding tributary that carved through steep red sandstone cliffs.
Hundreds of years ago, this jagged defile was known across three mortal empires as Blood Skull Gorge. It was the old family safe hall of the Blood Skull Demon Sect, an infamous gathering of evil fighters who forged bone banners from murdered mortals, distilled corpse-bile poisons, and bred swarms of flesh-eating Nether-Wasps in underground crypts. In those dark times, the sky above the canyon was always choked with sickly purple smog. The eerie shriek of trapped souls echoed along the jagged rocks like weeping ghosts.
Now, as the cedar skiff glided between the soaring canyon walls, the scene couldn’t have been more different.
A gentle mountain breeze carried the intoxicating aroma of blooming wild acacia, sweet clover, and fragrant purple mountain lavender. The once-poisoned scree slopes had been transformed into lush, terraced floral gardens that cascaded down the sandstone walls in vibrant swathes of violet, gold, and white. Millions of golden-striped spirit honeybees danced through the sunlit air. It filled the warm canyon with a deep, soothing hum that sounded like the gentle chanting of a mountain abbey.
