Ah, that tale's as old as the hills that carved the rivers. They say the king, named Eolric, stole a thunderbolt from the storm god, hoping to wield it as a crown. But when he did, the sky split, and the gods fought in the clouds, leaving a scar across the heavens that still cracks the night. Some say the bolt is trapped in a forgotten canyon; others swear the sky itself is alive, humming with Eolric's rage. If you’re looking for the twist, keep your eyes on the southern ridge where the aurora flickers like a forgotten banner—perhaps that's where the bolt waits, still humming its electric story.

Sounds like a good night’s adventure; just remember the ridge can be slippery when the light’s low, and keep a torch handy—those old legends often hide more than just lightning. Happy hunting!