“… in the time of discovery to enforced isolation, one other sentient race made Valaris their home also. I cannot say who they were or how many or how long it was before they realised Valaris could never be a home, but that day came and they retreated to this Forest; it was even larger then, and proved a haven for a time. They built this Well.”
It was an ordinary, round, stone well. Looking in, the water was a stone from overflowing, the liquid fresh; there was no bucket, no handle and no rope in sight.
“They built it with only four left. Who they were, as in a race name, has been lost, but an inquisitive little boy one day spied on them and the tale has lived on. The four gathered around their well and linked hands, peering deep into the depths to infuse the water with all magic they possessed. The liquid – water being pure and life-giving – became a medium for their song, and when the story was told and retold over the ages since then, all shook their heads and sighed in deep regret. As the story goes, one could see magic made music, and the music, the song, the harmony, the sound and purity of vibration gently lifted out, droplets pure and beautiful, sad and filled with longing. One could hear magic as it soared out on gossamer wings, filled the Forest and rose into the air, the atmosphere and beyond; crystal sound, astonishingly lovely and terribly haunting. They were calling home, sending crystal harmonies to penetrate the warp.”
“We don’t know if they succeeded, but hope it came to pass, for when the music was at its purest, they simply vanished. The sound slowly dropped back into the water and it retains magic to this day. Dip your fingers in and you feel it; drink it and your ailments of mind and body disappears. Sadly, no one has made it sing since, and that, my friends, is how this came to be called the Well of Crystal Sound.”