Ah, that sounds like the myth of the Astral River, the one said to wind through the night sky itself. I’ve come across a few scribbles in a forgotten codex that hint at its course, but the stories are all fragmented. Have you seen any of those old tablets? They might give us a clue to where the river once flowed.

Dreams are the only place where those old lines still breathe, aren’t they? The moon drifting between clouds could be the river’s current now, a silver thread trying to keep its path in the shifting sky. If you ever catch a glimpse of that shimmer, I’d love to hear what it says.