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She spoke the words one final time: “Xaza mzgin.”
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One year, a Great Silence fell over the valley. The streams stopped singing, the birds flew south months too early, and the villagers grew cold with fear. They believed the sun had forgotten them. The Journey for the Sun She spoke the words one final time: “Xaza mzgin
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When I finally crested the ridge that overlook the depression, the temperature dropped twenty degrees in an instant. Below me lay a crater unlike any I had seen. It wasn't an impact site, nor a volcanic caldera. It was smooth, a perfect bowl of dark, obsidian-like stone that seemed to absorb the midday sun rather than reflect it.
