Listen to the sound of the rushing water. You’ll notice a slight whispering. Do not mistake it with the sound of a shadow’s footsteps. A dark residue of lost traditions runs from that spring in the hundreds of laments shouted at the same moment.
When all of the ballads sang at the Edge of Dawn, the epics that give heroes courage and the stories that inspire poets are sung and finished, they return to this source again and time again. This is a vicious circle, a terrible repetition.
Fountain is the name of this edifice, where millennial stories collide in a drop of water. It is the wellspring of the endless war at the Edge of Dawn, and it feeds the Scriptium with tales.
The yeast of the conflict develops in this spring water. It cycles the nature of the narrative, the duality in the phrase. The force that emanates from the source is untamed, nameless, and formless. It bears the bipolar essence of strife. The eternal draft of antagonism gives life to rage and hatred.
If the Fountain falls, the battle in the Edge of Dawn is nearing the end. The Fountain is the source of power for the enemy’s towers and Shadows.
If a hero wants to win, they will defend their Fountain while destroying the enemy’s.
