I made friends with an older Holy Man. His name is Qun. His powers are strange and mystical, they remind me of buddhist monks of Earth. He told me his religion worships the god of flames, and that they safe guard the World Forge, that tall tower that I was born of, as the origin of all life. If it were every to stop burning, then the world would end.

Merrill did not know what she expected. They had descended deeper than she could ever imagine, down another flight of stairs, moving from endless hallway to endless hallway to finally reach this place.

It was not a grand bedroom. Of course, it was quite lavish and comfortable, with a hard wood floor and open fire place, but it was much smaller than she had expected.

A suit of silver armor lay assembled on a stand in one corner, while several blades were hung up on another wall. The bed was a grand king sized bed, lavish with velvet sheets and dozens of pillows. In the far corner, facing the fire place, was a lavish chair, with a small wooden table next it, a large tome atop it.

A lone wooden night stand lay beside the bed, with an iron lock sealing it shut.

“Please don’t touch anything my Lady.” Thaim sighed, tip toeing into the room.

“I… don’t know what to say.” Merrill said, taking the room in. She expected pictures, ancient artifacts, something that would clue her in to who exactly the Supreme One was, of the man she suspected was behind the god. And yet the room seemed bare.

“Rather mundane, wouldn’t you say my Lady?” Thaim smiled.

“What’s this?” Merrill had run over to the large book, opening it. “What? I can’t read this. This looks like a bunch of gibberish.”

The book was indeed some kind of journal, completely hand written. It seemed to be arranged by dates, but she couldn’t tell which dates.

“I said not to touch anything.” Thaim scolded. “This is the Supreme One’s personal journal. It’s written in a tongue no one knows but the Supreme One himself.”

“Should we steal this?”

“I wouldn’t my Lady. It’s worthless to us. Most of the important details, we trust, were translated by the Supreme One, available in the royal archives.”

“You really trust his word on that?”

Thaim shrugged. The truth was he wish he could steal this tome. But the Supreme One would know it was him. After all, he had been asking for it. The goddess, on the other hand, Thaim was sure the Supreme One had forgotten about her.

“Here my Lady.” Thaim said, pointing toward a wooden door at the far side of the small room.

There was another staircase leading down.

The area opened into light. Water flowed from several pipes, creating a moat around a small island at the center of this large room. The same mysterious lights, although dimmer now, illuminated the surroundings. A bridge, or more accurately, several stones sprawled out from the bottom of the staircase, providing passage across the water.

Merrill skipped across with expert dexterity, Thaim hopping clumsily behind her.

It was like a stone coffin, with the image of a great tree carved upon it. Runes of a forgotten language marked its top, seemingly indicating its occupant.

Merrill went to the right side and began to push. It would not budge.

“Its… too… heavy.” She grunted.

“Please move my Lady.” Thaim said, robbing his hands together. Merrill watched him, amused that the little man would attempt such a thing.

Thaim reached within himself, letting the fire that burnt within his soul spread to his muscles. They flexed and bulged, popping his robe as his form grew thick. With effort he heaved, and the coffin slowly slid open.

“Thaim. What’s this? Some kind of skill?” Merrill said, mouth nearly agape in surprise.

“Do not insult me, my Lady.” Thaim grunted, muscles still buldging. “This is not your heretical “Blessed” Magic. This is Old Magic. The Magic of the World Forge.” He said, finally pushing the heavy cover open.

Thaim gasped for air, the flames in his muscle growing cold. They deflated, like balloons, reducing him back to his pudgy little size. Thaim bent over, the effort exhausting him, and yet the flames within still burnt strong. He could feel it in his belly.

Merrill looked within the coffin, and to her surprise, despite the fact that it was her objective, was a girl. She slept soundly, her long blonde hair parted to her sides, reaching as far down to her hips. She wore a simple cloth dress, and had no shoes.

“This is the goddess?” Merrill asked, eyeing the girl.

“My lady. Please take her. We must leave soon. I fear Agathe may return any moment.”

Merrill reached into the coffin, slinging the woman over her shoulders. Thaim’s muscles bulged once again as he slid the coffin shut. Merrill skipped across the stones with ease, despite her burden, Thaim hopping slowly behind her.

They began their ascent, back through the Supreme One’s room, across the hallways, and approached the spiral staircase.

“Stop.” Thaim whispered, peeking around the corner that led up to the throne room.

“What is it?” Merrill asked, the woman hanging from her shoulder.

“Agathe has returned.”

Thaim feared the Hands. Standing near seven feet tall, they wore thick dark priestly robes that obscured the entirety of their forms, metal masks covering their eyes, leaving a small bit of their face exposed. And what was exposed was horrific. The skin seems to be burnt away; in fact it was still burning, flickers of embers smoldering of what was left of the skin. The lips were gone, revealing a gnarly grin of white teeth. They were creatures of nightmares.

And one of them was walking down the hallway towards them.