And so she went. Gathering all those 'neath the waves, all those sands betwixt fingers, all the silt on the shore. Waiting, remembering. And in this river that had drowned so many she would see it. Even as ancients fell, and mortals rose, she had seen it. Hastily with sand, and silt, and ice in her hands, she would push back against it. But even she would might be floes upon the water could not push against it. The Falls at the end of the water.

She is gone now. Her followers with her. Not to Nowhere. Not to Death. Maybe something deader. Maybe something else. Her Name awaits, hoping her return.