The hard soil-strewn path leads to the end of a peninsula jutting north- ward into the crystalline blue pond. At the tip of this peninsula is a curiosity: Formed of something stone and yet not stone, is a whirlwind or tornado, stopped in time. As you gaze upon it, you see little things, bits of things, like so much stone dust and gravel, and sometimes something green, as a leaf from an herb plant found growing by water, as though Lord Maelstrom himself had sent the storm to aid in the cleanup of the tunnels below, and then stopped the action of his storm to preserve in time and space the shavings from the stonework done below. Above this curious collection, a dark, roiling cloud hovers, small lightning bolts sometimes jutting out. You hear little snapping noises as they do, much as you would when you touch someone while carrying a charge and shock them with static. Around the stationary tornado, the grass is green and healthy, kept well watered by the dark cloud. Small water herbs cling to the soil and attempt to grow here, unaffected by the time-stopped storm. As you gaze at the pond, occasionally you notice a little movement beneath the surface, and you see some silver fish swimming.