text: In a humble village. One of simple people governed by gods. At the quiet edge of the world. Nestled away in a thick beautiful forest. On the cliffs edge, overhanging the ocean... Sat a house where weary travelers could rest their heads at the world's edge. Where some travelers were temporary, and others permanent. One such traveler had just made it to the small village. Just barely had he made it though. His muscles ached. His body urged him to stop, Yet his mind ran on an endless loop. An endless loop of self-preservation. He had heard stories of what creatures lie in the forest. An endless forest, full of gods and demons, a world tucked away from civilization. Stopping in the forest meant certain death. So the traveler didn't stop, he carried on, as the light began to fade from the world, as the Sun's final show of might waned, and the traveler's body was at its limit, he limped forward into a clearing. It was beautiful, as the setting sun lit the red tin roofs of the village with a golden light. Smoke trailed softly from the chimneys of the brick homes, and brought with it delicious dinner aromas. A hound or two stood a lazy guard outside a few homes. Dirt paths gently wound through the small village. Simple farm equipment sat outside most homes. Over the door of the nearest building hung a plain wooden plaque that read "Inn" "What a beautiful word." thought the traveler as he struggled to the doorway. The door was open, a single candle lit the room, and in the dim light, the traveler could faintly make out a bearded elderly man that beckoned him in. The traveler had barely scraped by, but the innkeeper knew the drill, and quickly ushered him to a room where he could rest his weary bones. As the traveler crashed into the neatly made bed, he would quickly sink beneath the waves and enter the realm of dreams. Quite some time would pass as the traveler rested, this was not the world he knew, this was the realm of gods and magic. His body had been pushed beyond the limits of a mortal body, and he would sleep for weeks in this state to recover. Upon waking, the man felt refreshed, but his stomach screamed for a meal, "How long was I asleep?" he thought to himself. But the wonderful aroma of fresh bread pulled him like a puppet on a string, and cut his thoughts short. Upon entering the main room of The Inn, the only person in sight was the old innkeeper. His silver beard flared out in every direction, like the Sun's light searching for shadows to vanquish. He was a thin old man, with a kind face, deep lines of aging ran across his face like a river carving through stone. His hair sported the same color as the beard and was thick, wavy, and long. His clothes were simple, clean, and slightly baggy on his frame. Yet even through his kind, calm, and elderly appearance, something in his eyes spoke to a hidden nature, like a spark of madness within him, capable of being released at any moment. His appearance made him welcoming, yet demanded respect. He sat at a small wooden table that had 2 chairs, one of which he sat in with perfect posture. With fresh bread in front of him, and two cups of tea already prepared, he beckoned the traveler to take the other seat. Sensing no ill will the traveler sat himself across from the innkeeper, and began eating the bread like a starving dog, only pausing momentarily to wash it down with a bit of tea. The innkeeper simply nodded and smiled as his guest inhaled the food in front of him. The innkeeper had seen many different types of people throughout the years, and most didn't have the best table manners. Upon finishing the bread, the traveler let out a light belch, as if cementing the uncouth first impression, but then took a more civilised position in his chair, and directed his gaze toward the innkeeper. "How long was I asleep?" blurted the traveler, breaking the brief silence. The Innkeeper simply replied "3 weeks". "That's impossible" the traveler said flatly. "Nothing is impossible on ground where the gods tread." the innkeeper quickly replied, and getting straight to the point, he then added, "You will spend many more weeks here if you value your life, for the forest is not safe to travel now." The traveler simply shot the innkeeper a quizzical stare, the innkeeper slightly nodded and shut his eyes in aknowledgement of the traveler's ignorance. With a deep sigh, followed by a heavy inhale, the innkeeper replied, "When the leaves speak their dying words, and the trees release them to the mercy of the wind, their beautiful corpses blanket the earth, and the lord of decay is ushered in." The expression on the traveler's face grew very stern and grave. He had heard of the gods and demons that walked the forest. That inhabited this land. That governed aspects of man, and the forces of nature alike. He also knew that staying in World's Edge for too long was dangerous, strange magics were present here and would surely affect him soon. "I must leave, I was strong enough to make it here, I'm sure I can survive the fall in the forest." stated the traveler plainly behind a slight grimace. The innkeeper seemed to prolong his stare, as if searching for hesitation, but the lone traveler showcased nothing of the sort. "Right...Then your stay here ends tommorow morning, enjoy the remainder of your stay, fresh bread will be here at the same time tommorow." the innkeeper said with sorrow in his voice. He promptly stood up, offered a kind smile followed by a quick bow to the traveler and then took his exit. The traveler was left at the table alone...With a thunderstorm of terrible thoughts in his mind. He pondered the meaning of the small poem recited by the innkeeper, he pondered his own judgement, but mostly, he pondered death. The traveler knew great strife, and had come to World's Edge to find a truth, perhaps a magical saving grace. Something to help his family back home. He was young, strong, and brave enough to make the trip. His parents were weak, his grandparents frail, and his village crumbled under a curse. Drought, famine, disease. These things hung heavy over his small village. World's Edge was not so different. It possessed a simplistic beauty, but it was a small primitive farming village, much like his own. Yet an intangible force could be felt here. In the air. In the soil. Even in the trees and leaves a strange aura was present. None of this helped the young traveler, it only gave him more questions. He would walk the village, and try to find the truth he sought. As he stepped outside the Inn, into the morning light, a picturesque moment held his senses captive. It was a brisk day, the sun shone brightly, but from afar. The sunlight glinted off of the tin roofs where it's rays pierced the cover of the treeline. A beautiful amalgam of leaves littered the ground, and in the light breeze, quite a few were tossed through the air on their departure from the tree. Golden, red, orange, copper, yellow, and a light brown all swirled together to form a beautiful palette in front of him. At the tip of the cliff's edge, spray from the river running near the village and straight off the cliff gave a pleasant ambient noise to the scene. People walked about in a lazy, but happy way, like they were generally enjoying their life. What birds remained, chirped a light tune. The entire village seemed at peace, the traveler's previous dark demeanor had been erased, his mood lifted simply from the sight of this place. He adjusted his stance, and preceded to wander around the village. He spoke to many people, he even visited the market, and the edges of the village. They all just seemed like normal people, all in excellent health, but other than that, they were just people. He heard stories along the way, but nothing he could use, nothing to save his village. He returned to the inn, very somber, in the late evening. The inn was dark except for a few candles. There was bread that had been recently made sitting at the table, and even a glass of tea that was warm to the touch still. The traveler indulged alone, in the silent main room. He sat at the table for a moment, anxious for the start of his journey tommorow. He hoped he had bought the right supplies at the market. He hoped the innkeeper's poem was simply superstition. He mostly hoped to make it home again. Drained and weary, the traveler took himself to bed. He would rest the best he could manage to. In the morning, he would brave the forest. This morning was different as the traveler awoke. There was a feeling in the air, a feeling he did not like. He quickly dressed and headed out. The innkeeper was not at the table. Fresh bread and tea was. He ate as much as his nervous stomach could handle. As he stepped into the street, he noticed a much different scene than before. A heavy fog hung over the village, and a small crowd of people stood at the clearing. The very same clearing he entered, and would leave the village through. The innkeeper was there. He walked at a calm pace to the clearing. He made it to the front of the crowd and stopped to face the innkeeper. "Thank you all for your hospitality..." he said turning to the crowd and then back to the innkeeper, "...and thank you for keeping my stomach full and body rested, old innkeep my friend." He said calmly. The innkeeper placed his hand on the traveler's shoulder, and in a hushed and caring tone said, "Are you sure that you must do this now? There is only one way this ends my friend...the gods make things happen here, that echo out to the rest of the world.. You see only a portion of their influence in your village...Here, World's Edge, the gods are everywhere. Their power is absolute.... I see much good in you, and I beg you not to leave this village, for the sake of your family and village." A long silence followed, the wind whistled lightly, and ominously from the forest. The traveler could not recall sharing this information with the innkeeper, yet this man knew exactly why he had traveled this far. It filled the traveler's head with even more questions. But he could not hesitate. "I must" replied the traveler, as he strode forth into the forest, knowing that if he looked back, his resolve would break. He simply kept moving forward, until he was sure the village was out of sight and earshot. He stopped momentarily, and took in a deep breath to clear his thoughts, then continued forward. He looked up, and noticed a few leaves falling from their previous summer home. "When the leaves speak their dying breath..." he thought to himself. The wind swept the leaf away soon after it detached. "...and the trees release them to the mercy of the wind..." At first everything was fine, but then, as if in response to his thoughts, the world around him began to shift. The fog seemed to thicken. His pace quickened slightly as he noticed the fog closing in, restricting his awareness. The fog became so thick, his vision was obscured past arm's length away. It was as if he had been swallowed by a rain cloud. He looked at the ground to ensure he stayed on the path, and it was covered heavily with freshly fallen leaves. "...their beautiful corpses blanket the earth..." The sound of the wind started to die off quickly. Birds no longer chirped. Everything fell silent. The traveler stopped, the only audible sound was his own heartbeat, and it was growing louder. The fog directly in front of him cleared. What stood in front of him was incomprehensible. It was about 12 feet tall, on all fours, and resembled a large stag. Its black rotted skin stretched tightly across a frame that was mostly bone. Living insects crawled to and fro and used various holes in the creature as tunnels and burrows. It's antlers were massive, stained heavily, strikingly symmetrical and resembled large hands with palms facing each other. It's eyes were mostly black, with a small brilliant speck of gold in the center that gave the eyes a very beady and terrifying appearance. A powerful stench pervaded the air around the creature. Heavily labored breathing could be heard from the beast, and wisps of it's putrid breath could be seen escaping the rotted teeth and nose as it's half visible ribcage would shakily rise and fall. Where it stood, all of the leaves and grass around it began to rot at a rapidly accelerated pace. "...and the Lord of Decay is ushered in." The traveler screamed, but could not hear his own scream, only the creature, he turn and ran. His legs pumped as hard and as fast as they could. His heartbeat had reached a fever pitch and his chest heaved as his powerful lungs sucked in air to fuel his escape. Only one thought existed in his mind. However, it was less of a thought, and more of a feeling. It was scrambling for survival against something that felt inevitable. It was his life summed up in one small thought. He felt like a worm, above ground, with a hungry bird hanging over him. He felt a journey ending, he felt himself ending. Then he stopped. He still heard the breathing. A voice entered his head, it would drown out every other thought or feeling. "Like a mouse surrounded by nothing, under the keen gaze of hunger...your heart beats fast my child, speak your truth, as your breath is finite." He could faintly hear leaves crunching as the creature closed in on him slowly. He didn't know what to say, yet he replied "My truth is love, my village needs me, I have to be their savior, I must.." "No. You must do nothing, your choices shape your journey, and your journey in this form must end." The deep resounding voice replied. This creature was close to him now. "My family, how will they survive, how will the village continue?" the traveler said softly. "All will be known, release your fear into the abyss from which it spawned, return to dust, and rest." the voice seemed calm, sure, and soothing almost. The stag approached the traveler and lowered its head level with the traveler. It then gently touched the tip of its nose to the traveler's forehead.... ...The innkeeper stood at the clearing still. There was a brief moment. A moment he knew well. A gentle frown crossed his face, it would stay for a brief moment. He then returned to his normal demeanor. The fog began to lift. The old innkeeper turned and slowly walked back to his Inn. And at the quiet edge of the world, the leaves would speak a soft eulogy. A eulogy for all life that was changing. Not a simple song of life's end, but a cryptic hymn of returning to the abyss.