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In the ancient land of Veloria, where great rivers carved valleys through the heart of the world, there lived a man named Corren, whose words flowed as ceaselessly as the river Nareth that wound through his village. But Corren’s speech, though smooth and silvered, was tainted—not by wisdom, but by falsehood.

Just as the Nareth’s current never ceased its journey toward the sea, so too did falsehood pour from Corren’s lips. His lies spread effortlessly, like tributaries feeding a mighty river, each deceit swelling the current of untruth. With every word, he shaped the world around him—not with the tools of honesty, but with the chisels of deception, carving canyons of distrust through the hearts of those who once believed him.

His falsehoods rippled across the surface of reality, distorting what others saw and heard. Like a river stirred into frothy rapids, the truth beneath became hidden, the reflection of what was real twisted and unrecognizable.

Those who trusted Corren found themselves swept away by unseen undercurrents—dragged into depths of confusion and disillusionment. His lies broke like waves of insincerity against the steadfast rocks of the few who clung to integrity, each crash leaving behind only the hiss of contempt.

Yet, as the seasons turned, so too did the tide. For the river of lies, no matter how vast, must one day meet the ocean of truth. And when Corren’s words finally reached that mighty sea, they were dispersed and diluted—washed clean by the relentless tide of reality. The power of his deception waned, for the ocean does not keep the sediment of rivers; it purifies and absorbs, leaving behind only what is true.

In the end, Corren stood alone upon the shore, watching the river’s waters merge with the sea, his voice quiet at last. And as he gazed upon the endless horizon, he understood: the river of lies may flow freely for a time, but the pull of truth is inescapable.