“Got nothin’ against the elves, personally,” our caravan leader, Grug, said. “Just that I can’t abide by criminals poaching on the innocent, you know?”

  “Still, I have to wonder why they’re suddenly attacking people,” I replied. “I’m guessing this is a relatively new thing, or Dominium would’ve put a stop to it a long time ago.”

  We’d pitched camp for the day, and I’d been walking by when Grug invited me for a chat beside his wagon. He’d moved a couple of downed logs that functioned pretty well as benches. At least, for me. Grug could’ve used an extra tall bench.

  “Indeed, it is as you say,” Grug replied, frowning. “Quite strange, this, though they’ve always been territorial. Never too happy about people wandering into their precious Sylvanglade. Sure, the trees might be a tad taller, but what of it? On whose authority do they lay claim to that forest? It’s all very dubious to me.”

  “I suppose Dominium isn’t too happy about their presence there?”

  Grug made a dismissive gesture. “So long as the elves don’t cause trouble, they couldn’t care less, honestly. Now, however, things have changed.”

  “Sounds like it,” I said. Whatever their reason, preying on caravans that weren’t even passing through their forest felt unjustified, no matter how you looked at it.

  “I hope they’re paying you enough,” I muttered. “Even with us around, this is bound to be a risky endeavor.”

  “Bah!” Grug replied. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained! This would not be the first time I’ve undertaken such a contract. Set your mind at ease, Greg, and let us enjoy this journey of ours together.”

  I raised my brow at that decidedly Earth saying before shrugging it off.

  The conversation turned to the Cataclysms and the dark times that were about to assault Axius before drifting to less weighty topics by the fire before I bid the giant goodbye and headed off to where my party had pitched their camp some distance away. We’d pitched it further away for privacy. Rogar and Philip liked to sleep early, and with Aerion’s boundless curiosity, I wouldn’t be surprised if Earth came up more than a handful of times.

  I returned to find our group talking about geography, of all things.

  “And I’m telling you that’s not normal!” Richard cried. “Continents simply don’t adhere to geometric shapes! It’s unnatural!”

  “Of course it’s unnatural,” Rogar said. “The gods made it!”

  “Er, what are you all talking about?” I asked.

  “Ah, he returns!” Richard said, hailing me over. “Greg, help me convince these people that Axius is a mess.”

  “Uh, how so?” I asked, realizing that I’d never actually seen a map of the full continent—just Dominion’s territory back when we were at Basecrest.

  Richard blinked. “For one, the continent is a perfect diamond. Or it is when transposed on a map, at least. The world’s a globe, of course. Anyway, each territory separating it into clean lines!”

  “Not quite clean,” Aerion muttered. “The territory borders shift somewhat with each Cataclysm, with chunks either being gained or lost between gods of neighboring territories. Some believe it a result of the gods fighting their own battles. Others feel they change hands due to negotiations.”

  “Or maybe they’re just placing bets,” Philip replied with a chuckle. If either he or Rogar questioned Richard’s outburst, they didn’t show it. Maybe they understood just how different we all were at this point. Maybe it was normal not to know much of global geography on Axius. I suspected the truth was a mix of both.

  “Anyway,” Richard said, clearly wanting to make a point. “As if that isn’t enough, there’s a perfectly circular ocean at the center. And would you believe what’s at the center of that? Yep, an island, which just so happens to be perfectly diamond shaped! It’s bonkers, I tell you!”

  I raised a brow, glancing at Aerion, who nodded. Now that was interesting. I’d known Order’s territory was to the south of Dominion’s, with Wisdom’s being to the north, and I’d known that their territories were all vaguely pie-slice-shaped. But I’d dismissed the perfectly straight crust of Dominion’s slice as rudimentary map-making.

  People were spoiled by the incredible precision of modern maps back home. In the past, even the roughest sketches went for astronomical sums due to their rarity and the difficulty and danger associated with cartography.

  “It is unnatural,” I said.

  “There!” Richard cried. “You see?”

  “But as Rogar said, the gods are said to have made this continent, right? I suppose it makes sense.”

  “You truly believe they created this world?” Richard asked.

  I shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

  The Britisher sighed. “Bollocks. Well, how was your chat with our illustrious leader, anyway?”

  I took a seat and the bowl Aerion handed over to dig into the porridge Philip had whipped up on our campfire. “He’s nice enough, once you get to know him,” I said, taking a sip.

  It wasn’t bad. Nothing even close to the starburst of flavor that modern food tended to drown your tastebuds in, but not bland, either. The broth was savory, and there was just enough pepper to give the dish some complexity.

  I’d long ago gotten used to the blander food here on Axius, and compared to the rations we were forced to eat in the Cataclysm Dungeon, this was practically a feast.

  Aerion nodded. “I agree. He seems to have nothing but respect for us. It was rather humbling.”

  The five of us sat around a campfire a few hundred feet away from the caravan. Not so far that we couldn’t protect them if any highwaymen got any bright ideas, but not so close that our conversations would be overheard, either.

  “Would you imagine that?” Rogar said with a smirk. “The two Grugs, getting along!”

  I cringed. “A common name among the giants, apparently.”

  “I thought I said as much?” Aerion asked, tilting her head.

  “You might have,” I admitted. “Certainly explains why everyone wants to call me Grug. Bet Greg was the name of some ancient Champion, just corrupted over the millennia.”

  “Might be right about that,” Philip said. “Giants are well loved by Vigor, and one of her Champions was named Grugery. The giants name their children in his honor.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “They used to call her their patron deity,” Rogar said. “Though, more humans have moved into her territory in the past while.”

  “She have a change of heart, or something?” Richard asked.

  Philip shook his head. “Cataclysm in her territory a few hundred years back. Left the whole area devastated. People migrate to places like that. Less chance of lightning striking twice in the same place.”

  “And I’ll bet they desperately need those people, too,” I said. “From everything I’ve heard, even when the Champions manage to defeat the Cataclysm early, the outbreak territory gets ravaged.”

  “Indeed,” Philip replied grimly.

  I wondered how that affected the relative demographics of a place. I felt like most areas would be pretty homogenous as a result—once you’ve settled somewhere, it’s hard to uproot. Cosmo’s territory would be the only real exception, with no Cataclysms to ravage it.

  Were it not for his abysmal reputation, I imagined a lot more people would migrate there.

  “This place will be a treasure trove for a smith after all’s said and done,” Rogar said. “Assuming you can survive the cataclysm, that is.”

  “And our mission?” Philip asked. “Did you glean any further details?”

  He repeated pretty much what Sinclair said.

  “Elves in the area have been attacking merchant caravans, stealing any supplies they carry and killing everyone else. Our job is to put a stop to that. Grug didn’t really strike me as the daring risk-taking sort. Dominium must be paying him a pretty sizable sum to get him to go along with this.”

  “That, and the immense combat potential we’re bringing,” Richard said. “Doubt the man—er, giant—has ever slept so soundly on any of his journeys.”

  We chatted for a while after that, enjoying our hot meals and good company until Philip and Rogar bid us goodnight and headed back to the caravan. I had to admit, motley band that we were, I was happy to be here, among friends. Once Richard, Rogar, and Philip left, it would be just Aerion and me again. I’d miss them.

  I was just glad we could enjoy moments like this. Life was bound to get a lot more difficult moving forward, as Cataclysm Dungeons got stronger and the Archon’s forces manifested. There was a whole lot of darkness ahead, with barely any light to be seen.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Richard asked.

  “Oh, nothing. Just that it’s interesting how danger forces you to cherish everything you’ve got going for you in life.”

  I stared up at the star-studded sky. As most nights tended to be on this moonless planet, it was a clear night with a full view of Axius’ strange and foreign sky—something that seemed to affect Richard as much as it did me. Not for the first time, I wondered where we truly were. The existence of magic and gods made any location in our universe seemingly impossible, but who was I to say? We could’ve been in the middle of a black hole, for all I knew.

  “It certainly does,” Richard said, not looking away from the stars. “Most of us fail to realize what we have until it’s gone.”

  I glanced at Richard.

  “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Where we’re at now? How long it’d take to get back?”

  ‘If that’s even possible,” I said quietly.

  “Right, well, good thing we’ve got our patron deities, eh?” Richard said with a light chuckle.

  “Richard, I…”

  I went silent for a long moment. Guilt ate at me. Should I tell Richard what Cosmo told me? I still didn’t know for sure, though. And even if I did, what effect would telling Richard have? Either he’d believe me, in which case a spiraling depression was probably the best possible outcome. More likely, he’d choose to believe Passion over my words, which would only sour our relationship.

  “Sorry? You say something?”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Chances are good this planet’s not even in the same universe as ours. Or, hell, maybe we’re stuck in the middle of a black hole or something.”

  “Would certainly explain the magic,” Richard chuckled.

  “Sorry?” Aerion asked. “Black hole?”

  “You know how all objects fall, yeah?” I said. The campfire crackled before us, and Richard stoked it, the amber flames illuminating the knowing smile on his face.

  Aerion nodded.

  “What do you think would happen if everything suddenly weighed a hundred times more?”

  Aerion frowned. “We’d die, for one. I imagine most forms of life would cease to exist, unable to bear the weight.”

  “Right. Now, what if they weighed a hundred times as much?”

  Aerion’s frown deepened. “I fail to see the point? We’d all be dead.”

  “Just humor me.”

  “Well,” Aerion said, staring into the fire. “Everything would get a lot smaller, I imagine. Compress.”

  “Precisely! The planet would fold in on itself, getting denser and denser. Which, believe it or not, makes things weigh even more.”

  “But then…” Aerion was a smart cookie. She picked up on the implication right away.

  “Yeah, that’s when shit gets weird. You get something dense enough, it starts breaking down all the known rules. Time itself gets wonky, stretching forever, and not even light can escape, so on the outside looking in, it looks pitch-black. A vast void of nothingness.”

  “A black hole,” Aerion muttered in awe. “What lies within it?”

  “That’s the trillion dollar question. Nobody knows,” I said. “Some people think there’s a wormhole at the center, allowing you to quickly traverse across the universe. Others say entirely different rules apply inside, alien to everything we take for granted. Of course, even if you survive all that, millions of years would have passed.”

  “Fascinating.” It wasn’t Aerion who said that, but Richard. “Never knew about that all.”

  “Ah right. We’ll discover that sometime soon after where you’re currently at. Turns out there’s a supermassive black hole at the center of every galaxy.”

  I glanced at Aerion, who looked thoroughly confused, so I took a couple of minutes to explain to her us Earthling’s understanding of the cosmos.

  Aerion was clutching her head by the time I finished. “Why is it so complicated?” she groaned. “Stars? Galaxies? We have the Seven! They created the world together! Dominion placed the stars in the sky such that the world would never forget the great feat he and the others accomplished. Wisdom, finding the action to be in poor taste, rearranged the stars into the patterns we now know, adding many more so sailors could use them to navigate.”

  Richard smiled fondly. “Got plenty of creation stories of our own,” he said. “Before science, we only had religion to explain the universe. Not dissimilar from yourselves, though our gods rarely ever show themselves.”

  “And now?” Aerion asked.

  “Now, well, science has disproven many truths we thought held true.”

  Aerion frowned. “But how do you reconcile the two? You are religious yourself, yes?”

  “Yes, I’m a Christian,” Richard said with a wry smile. “And this is a topic of much debate in my world. Afraid there’s no one answer. Each must find one that works for them.”

  “And what is your answer?” Aerion asked.

  “I… Well, let’s just say that the scriptures are open to interpretation. I believe there’s a happy middle ground where the two might meet. Beyond that, well, it is called faith for a reason. It needs no proof, unlike science.”

  Aerion nodded knowingly and flexed her arm. “All the proof I need is right here, in my Blessing.”

  “It’s a bit different here,” I said. “But there’s a saying where I’m from. Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

  “Come now, Greg,” Richard scoffed. “I’m as optimistic as anyone, yet you can’t seriously expect me to believe all of this,” he swept his hand across the scenery, “is simply some advanced form of technology?”

  I pursed my lips. “Can’t disprove it, at least.”

  I wasn’t even sure I believed my own words. Everything I’d seen… It felt off. If the gods were just advanced aliens, then where was the evidence of their tech? Where was the vast, sprawling interstellar civilization that had to exist to pull off the kind of stuff they did?

  I didn’t have the answers, and I never would. Not unless Cosmo decided to suddenly pour his heart out one day.

  We all fell silent after that, each lost in our thoughts. It was only when the crackling fire died down, turning into embers, that we rose from our spots. Aerion kicked dirt over what was left of the fire, drowning it, and we returned to our assigned sleeping spots. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, and overnight guard duty was only bound to make that worse.

  Even so, it had been a good night. Just a peaceful night with friends. No monsters or Trials or gods. Normal.

  I could get used to that. I also had the distinct feeling I’d never get the chance.