He hadn't really been thinking about where she was leading him. It was the place he wasn't allowed to go, which otherwise would've been exciting, had his brain not been consumed by visions of the midsummer festival. He hadn't really been paying attention to the low, distant rumble, growing louder with each step.

When he saw it, he froze. It was immediate, instinctual. The way the light reflected off the surface sent a chill through to his core. The sound of it, trickling gently over rocks worn smooth with time, was haunting.

Distantly, he heard Bragi speaking, but her words were lost to the river. Swept up like they were nothing. Spinning, reeling, getting dashed against the rocks.

Drowning.