The Sphinx sat on the road to the salt flats. "Halt," she purred. "Answer my riddle, or be eaten. What has a bed but never sleeps, has a mouth but never speaks?"
Tunupa loomed over the horizon. She was not a traveler; she was the mountain range itself.
Tunupa did not answer. She exhaled.
The Silence
Salt-Petrifaction.
A wind of pure crystal blasted the Sphinx. The lion-woman tried to fly, using Guardian's Flight, but her wings grew heavy with salt crust.
"The answer is a river," the Sphinx shouted, trying to trigger her own magic.
"The answer," Tunupa's voice rumbled like tectonic plates, "is irrelevant."
Salar Mirrorstorm.
The salt flats reflected the sun, blinding the Sphinx. Then came the Andean Stormcall. Lightning struck the localized spot where the Sphinx stood.
When the dust settled, there was no Sphinx. There was only a new, oddly shaped pillar of salt on the vast white plain.