"The Canar tribes are no more." Said the silver-haired as he approached his father in the waterfall chamber. He ascended the steps with fluid grace, leading to a platform where his father stood, with his imposing figure facing away.
He was presently overlooking an outdoor vista, where two towering cliffs loomed on either sides, their rugged surfaces softened by a delicate veil of mist hanging in the air.
A mighty waterfall descended from the gap between the cliff, plunging into a turbulent pool below—a sight so breathtaking that it had the silver-haired distracted for more than a second, and he shared an understanding as to why his father preferred the waterfall chamber rather than his own throne room.