The river's currents wash swan's ability and energy, discarding it like filth on its astonishing wings. Its wings used to shine from its smoothness, and reflect its whiteness; now all that is seen of swan's wings is a grotesque figure of mess. Breaths of struggle transform into lethargic surrender. The aching swan flaps its wing and merciless waves crush its bones and disfigured its self. It drowns in the bottomless river, ending suffering to a silent pitch.

If you go, there you may hear helpless cries of a swan. Some claim, that the swan was seen in its original form - magnificent and leaving many in awe of its elevating grandiose. But others say, myths will forever remain myths.