Drive south from Columbia, into the domain of the Lizard Man, and you will eventually arrive at a spring next to a church on land deeded to God. This is still on the books, as of 2019, and has never been legally disputed. This is a place of overlapping traditions and origins steeped in rumor, the most famous of which involves mortally wounded soldiers returning after being left for dead in its waters. Arrive today, and you will see the people of the Midlands lined up with gallon jugs at the water's edge. Sometimes you will find small shrines, and offerings of vegetables. Whatever spirit is here, it is trusted, and has formed relationships with those who come to it. I arrived in darkness in with a colleague of mine, on clear roads. Upon our return down the same roads, they were covered in leaves which had suddenly fallen from the trees, and no other cars had been through to clear them. A great light shone from between a set of trees, perhaps a mile out from the site, and appeared to fill an entire field beyond, shining upwards towards low clouds. I never got a closer look, and oddly, didn't give the incident much thought until nearly a year later, when it suddenly became clear to me how strange the return to Columbia had been.