The world had been around for as long as anyone could remember, and longer, besides. In the polar regions far to the north of any civilization, scars from an ancient meteor impact still lingered, strange lights dancing fitfully in a sky with no eyes to witness them.

  In a continent some referred to as ‘The Old World’, in a country known as Degan, an old king snored obnoxiously, dreaming of the wealth that would eventually pour in from the faraway continent. Civil war still boiled in the south, despite the High Elves’ efforts to contain it. The civil war itself was too far south to keep the king awake at night.

  On another continent, in a city known as ‘New Degan’, Baronet Dareth Willisford, Court Magician of Degan, watched as his divination rods quivered and pointed again towards the northwest. Something magical was happening out there, he just knew it.

  He wondered what had become of the lovely elf Sister that had volunteered to venture out that way, and vaguely regretted not accompanying her. The High Elves of the Church of the Goddess Mother were a secretive bunch, however, and he wasn't certain he'd even be welcome. He had some small pull with some of the guards that patrolled New Degan; he'd hire a few to see if they could pick up the trail of the elven woman and find out what had happened to her.

  Mercedes struggled with the unconscious form of her barbarian companion, an elven girl named Simone, struggled to keep the smaller elf from falling off the edge of the short cliff that overlooked a valley- a valley still blazing with purgatorial flames so hot she could feel the heat baking her skin even from so far away.

  Mercedes herself was the erstwhile High Elf that Dareth worried about, an attractive elven woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her normally calm expression was replaced with one of intense concentration, as she struggled to keep the both of them from tumbling off the cliff. Her once-neat hair hung in sweaty strings around a face that was smudged with dirt and dried blood.

  Simone, the young shaman from the barbaric Plains Elves, dangled limply in Mercedes grip, her brown skin just as dirty as Mercedes, her bone-white hair as limp and lifeless as Simone appeared to be.

  Summoning up strength Mercedes wasn't sure she had, she pulled the unconscious smaller elf from danger and laid out the petite girl on the boulders that they'd used as their vantage just a few minutes before.

  Simone was lithe and petite, dressed in a sleeveless top and long fringed skirt, by some manner of miracle, Simone's shawl had been tangled around her arms in some way when she'd lost consciousness, she hadn't lost the valuable wrap. All of her clothes were dyed in repeating patterns of colored triangles, squares, and spirals, some barbaric red and white streaks in esoteric symbols covered her skin.

  Mercedes shot another glance at the intense fire that still raged. This ‘new world’, this new continent was packed with dangers the humans had no understanding of. What would have happened if they hadn't attacked from afar?

  Death.

  Mercedes froze at the indifferent observation from the spirit.

  What would happen if one of those things were to make it back to Degan?

  Death.

  The reply was equally indifferent, equally chilling. Suddenly, Mercedes’ mind was assailed with an image of almost-human looking things stalking through cities, erupting into horrific masses of teeth and claw and tentacle, devouring, corrupting, infecting.

  Mercedes shuddered, and remembering her earlier attitude of disbelief at what Simone had warned, shrank back from the vision even further.

  She glanced at the enormous, seething fireball that was still burning. “Is it... dead yet?” She asked hesitantly.

  A Protean is life unbound. It takes a lot to kill it.

  Mercedes shuddered again. Back in Degan, she'd heard of people who had been struck by lightning. She'd seen the results on the battlefield, whole swathes of troops taken out by a mages’ lightning, seen it leap prankishly from one person to another to devastating effect. Lightning alone wouldn't kill it, a ball of fire hot enough to make rocks crack apart wouldn't kill it- what would?

  The spirit was conspicuously silent.

  Mercedes sat, curled up as much as her inflexible steel armor would allow, arms wrapped around her legs, knees to chest, lost in the sea of her thoughts.

  There were things in the world- Mercedes had always believed that the Goddess wouldn't have created things that would threaten mankind. The elves and humans in the world were special. Her chosen.

  They had been given reason, the capability to understand, adapt, and even change the world around them in ways that animals could not. Didn't that capacity for intelligence separate them from everything else? Elevate them above? If that were so, then it stood to reason that she cared about what happened to her chosen.

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  But if that wasn't the case, then... what were elves? What were humans? What were they supposed to do, if there were no divine mission?

  But... there were predators. People got sick and died. People died from injury, illness, disease. A too-long winter killed them. An especially hot summer killed them. Drought. Famine. Avalanches. Thunderstorms.

  Proteans.

  Maybe... Maybe it was as the Church had said- it was a test. Trials to overcome.

  Or maybe the Goddess simply didn't care what happened? Simply created the world and let things happen as they did?

  That couldn't be right. The Goddess had spoken to the people, to elves and humans alike.

  Either way, the world had just become a lot deadlier.

  Her thoughts broke apart as Simone coughed and turned over on her side. The smaller elves’ eyes opened and regarded Mercedes.

  “You don't look so good.” Simone croaked, her voice dry and raspy.

  Mercedes glanced at the smaller elf. “Speak for yourself.” She mocked lightly.

  “What happened?” Simone asked blearily.

  Mercedes wordlessly pointed at the conflagration.

  Simone followed her finger and looked over at the flames, still burning merrily.

  “Oh. Right.”

  The smaller elf let out a sigh, and went limp. Mercedes struggled to her feet and prodded the shaman; Simone turned over in sleep.

  “Really?” Mercedes complained wryly. She glanced over at the fire; it had mostly gone out, leaving a charred and smoking crater. The stones themselves still radiated a terrible heat that could still be felt even at this distance, though there wasn’t even a hint of anything that could burn.

  According to Simone, the path they needed to take was straight through that small canyon, and right across that smoldering crater.

  “I’m trusting that you’ll cool off that crater.” Mercedes muttered as she gathered their packs together. She then scooped up Simone on her back and began to pick her way down to the canyon floor, even as a cool wind began to swirl, dispersing the heat.

  The air in the canyon was thick with the scent of ozone and melted rock. There were metallic streaks here and there, evidence of trace metals getting liquified in the inferno Simone had conjured.

  The ground crunched with brittle crackles under Mercedes’ armored boots; Mercedes allowed herself a small smile. Simone would not have been able to walk across this ground. The smaller elf didn’t wear shoes, just leather straps wound around her ankles and insteps. The rest of her feet were totally exposed.

  The packs and Simone made for an impressively heavy load, but Mercedes was strong, and as long as she wasn’t required to run, she felt as if she might be able to carry Simone for a while. She passed through the canyon without incident, and contemplated the next leg of their journey, a short climb up one of the impressive foothills that clustered around the base of a truly titanic mountain that seemed to climb straight into the clouds.

  “Don’t tell me I’ll have to climb that.” Mercedes muttered, idly wondering if such a thing were even possible.

  Do not.

  Mercedes froze at the sharp admonition that seemed to cut through her skull with its intensity. The condescension was gone, the indifference was gone, all that was left was a vehement forbiddance. She actually flinched back, and took a step backwards. The momentary break in her focus caused her to realize the path she was taking was clearly made at some point. There were carved stone blocks sunk into the ground like stairs here and there.

  She leaned forward to study them; there was a similarity in appearance to the stone that was used at that abandoned place where they fought the wolves.

  “No more wolves, please.” Mercedes muttered, and an eddy of breeze caught her nose, bringing with it the scent of sulphur she smelled earlier. “Did elves make this?” she asked curiously, but the spirit didn’t answer.

  Mercedes adjusted her grip on the sleeping Simone, and continued her ascent. As she climbed the wooded slope, more and more evidence of construction revealed itself: a broken stone pillar, more steps, half a stone arch.

  Everything was covered in moss and creeping vines, nature's efforts to reclaim the land were slow but inexorable. The vines and moss and weather would seed cracks into the stone, tiny at first, but eventually enough for water to seep inside. The water would freeze, expanding the tiny cracks a little at a time, creating spaces for plants to dig themselves into the carved stone. Little by little, year after year, the cracks would grow, the stone would disintegrate, until the whole thing would topple over.

  Mercedes had an idea of what she would see towards the top, so when she topped the rise and the area revealed itself to her, she wasn’t terribly surprised, only curious. From time to time during her ascent, whiffs of moisture-laden breeze would waft past her, bringing the sharp chemical scents of sulfur, a common occurrence in natural hot springs. The breeze was humid, too, heavy with water vapor, something she didn’t expect in the mountainous highlands she found herself in. Water trapped beneath the surface of the world, heated by geothermal energy, tended to dissolve sulphurous compounds, which escaped into the air, bringing the distinctive smell to the surroundings.

  Whoever had built the ruins, they’d transformed the normal rocky pools of steaming water into open-air baths.

  “Ugh. What a horrible smell.” Simone complained from Mercedes’ back.

  “Awake?” the taller elf asked.

  “...reluctantly.” Simone agreed. “What is this place?”

  “It’s a hot spring. We can bathe here.” Mercedes explained, unable to hide the happiness from her voice. She was dirty, sweaty, and she’d been splattered with blood a few times. She was looking forward to getting clean.