Recorded by Finnegan Lionhartt,
Of the events which still continued to go on into the early morning, many hours before the sun came up, on the 18th day of Radia, year of Pinnikle: 1,229.

Cold night air filled my lungs, and I found it hard to suppress coughs. It was hard to breathe after nearly drowning. Sophie and I sprinted past our secret place in pursuit of the man in the water. Keeping up with my sister was a struggle, but I convinced myself I was up to the task: we would save the stranger. I did not know how, or what might come if we succeeded or if we failed.

Over the sound of crunching sand, Sophie shouted, "What's the plan?"

I replied through heavy breaths, "I don't have one. But we can't swim out to him. Let's just catch up first, and try to beat him to the falls."

Our feet dashed along the river bank side by side, between jungle and river - and occasionally we hopped over rocks on the riverbank to gain on the stranger in the water. I did not feel like a hero. I was tired, and wanted to sleep. Sophie seemed to be filled with adrenaline by the way she tirelessly ran.

"Hey, let's make it a race!" I huffed, In an attempt to lighten the mood and give myself more reason to run.

"Haha, kay! You think you can beat me!?" Sophie asked matter-of-factly.

"Oh, you bet I can! I'm a little worn out, but my legs are still workin'!"

We dash off, equally tired and equally matched. End's Drop came into view, down-river: it was pouring water a very long way down to Plummet Valley, and throwing beautiful mist into the air. We had gained on man in the water, but were not close enough to attempt another rescue. His form was illuminated by gimmerings of dashing fish and stardust, glinting all about him. Amidst all the beauty, the specter still pulled him by the collar of his shirt, moving through the water as if it were in flight.

Closing in on him, I finally got a better look: Pale skin, and royal clothes waved around the nix's slender but strong form. His head faced the current and his long blond hair brushed against his shoulders. The stranger floated quicker with every moment, and he began to come back to consciousness - likely from thunderous sounds of the mountainous falls. His body was listless, but I swear I saw his eyes open. Perhaps seeing the stars above offered him some reason to stay awake - to fight.

Sophie and I rushed past him. Hope was on our feet as we raced along the sandy shore - our ambition sought against his death. The falls were close, and below them: a bright little star twinkled just out of sight in mist.

"Fin, do you think that's—" Sophie started.

"— Yeah!" I said, looking at the familiar star. "Looks like Tryn's below the falls! You still have your lasso?"

"It's here!", the wet lasso tapped Sophie's thigh to the beat of her running steps.

"Hold on... You don't want me to—"

"—Yeah! you're gonna lasso that star." I said surely. I believed it was possible with all my heart.

"Then what!?" She asked.

"One of us'll swing out, n' try to snatch him!" I responds through huffs.

Sophie turned her head to shout back at the stranger, "We're coming, alright?". Her voice pierced his ears like a bell at dawn, "You're gonna make it, okay!?"

Neither of us knew if we would be able to save him, and we weren't not even convinced the drifter wanted to be rescued, because he had not made any effort to save himself. She wanted him to know we were rushing to his rescue... somehow. We rushed ahead of him, ever closer to the falls.

Sophie yelled to me, "Do you really believe we can swing from Tryn and catch him!? Every time I try to loop a star, my lasso falls through."

"We spent two weeks with that star when we were littles! She'll remember you - she'll help you! Besides, this is—" I started

"— It's our one and only option under the star-scape!" she finished, a tone of boldness in her voice.

"That's the spirit!" I concluded.

Still under the illusion of competition with each other, the trodding of our steps were no longer in sand, but on the rock of the cliffs. It was sharp, and the edge had come quick. I winced as a jagged snag sliced my foot.

"Careful on this!" I said to warn Sophie, but I was a moment too late. She had already taken a few scrapes, silently.

"I'm okay. Just a few more steps to Tryn," she said, slowing to a careful jog.

I was not so cautious though. With my focus on Sophie, I nearly ran off the edge! I slid to a stop on my bloody feet  just before tumbling off the plummet.

"Woah..." I let out softly, and fell back to sit at the cliff's edge. I scooted back immediately, and then I was captive to the sights. "The old queen was right..." I thought to myself, "This view is really something."

I gave myself a moment to admire the sights, knowing Sophie was taking cautious steps behind. When I heard her at my back, I turned to face her.

"Beet ya," I said through a half smile.

"Yeah, well... next time," She replied.

"Ready Soph?" I asked as she came with cautious strides in front of me - footsteps that hurt on sliced feet. 

She winced with each little step, but was devoted. Below us: the vast valley. Above: a luminary sky glimmered in timeless glory. To our side: the waterfall poured down monstrously, and Tryn floated just out from the surging water, in its mist. She twinkled in the mist of the falls - a bright light that made sphere of light shine around her and onto the falls themselves. Moments like this would be fond to remember if only there was not trouble, let alone scratched feet. Neither was there time to focus on dulling the pain from my bleeding, rock-scraped feet; nor was there a moment to take in beauty. No, it was time to save a life.

The two of us did not know anything about the stranger. We looked toward the moment where his life might end, and decided it should remain - not needing to know who he was or how he gotten into the situation. From within the river, the current made him bounce. The force pulled him under and hurled him up as he struggled to breathe. At least, I hoped he was still fighting for breath, and had not given up.

Goodwill intentions are glimmering things. I've heard it said: they are like sweet whispers heard in instances, like when one devotes to rescue another from their peril. I hoped the stranger felt those kind of intentions from us. Not only from us: All the vastness of the luminary star-scape gave light to his hopefulness. That man would not die. I hoped he would not die.