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When Stone had laid flat like an ocean floor, time had been a deluge. It carved floors into mountains, the earth into sky, the Clepsydrae into wading. There she dredged for that eroded sediment that had sat like silt and sand under the auspices of time. She would gather up these sands that would slip between fingers, even as mountains were raised behind her, even as waters ran to seas, to oceans. Still, she dredged. Gathering all that time had eroded, all that it had drowned. And she froze them, stone in ice, fossils in sand, mortals in undeath. As she has known, in these frozen moments, these divided seconds, ice might float upon the rivers. Even as it died.
And so she went. Gathering all those 'neath the waves, all those sands between betwixt fingers, all the silt on the shore. Waiting, remembering. And in this river that had drowned so many she would see it. Even as ancients fell, and mortals rose, she had seen it. Hastily with sand, and silt, and ice in her hands, she would push back against it. But even she would might be floes upon the water could not push against it. The Falls at the end of the water.
She would not drown, not with so many left to be saved. And so they left. Her Names beside her. And a guardian behind her. Just one. That sand might still be gathered, even as the river fell beneath even itself.