The Griffon at the Echoing Pass

At the mountain's knife-edge, a circular terrace of pale stone clings to the cliff under a sky full of hard wind and thin clouds. A proud griffon perches on a split pillar beside a bronze speaking bowl, its feathers ruffled by constant gusts that seem to carry whispers back to their source. The chamber's carved feathers and chimes shimmer with old gold leaf, and every word spoken here returns a moment later as a faint echo, as if the mountain itself is listening.