The Floodlands With a melody from the mourning band

It was dark on the floodplains, and the sky was full of stars peppering an unending black that had swallowed the sun for a time. Darcia stood here, in the glory of the night, and observed the things here he didn't know as well as the shadewood. The mountain of Everfall was the source of the water in this place. Yearly, when everything melted in spring, these lands were thoroughly soaked as it all rushed back to the sea; and now, in the summer, it all seemed to teem with more water than anything else. The moon turned all that was green into silver by his eyes, and all the water looked shiny and black as he watched it flow north.

Darcia listened to the owls, and the crickets, and the swift-running rivers, peering as far as he could see at what the land had to offer him. Without having the thought to do so beforehand, he suddenly tossed back his dark crown, exposing his pale throat, and sang a long and lonely song that carried far for any to hear.