Was the world alive? Did the world breathe? What did its breathing look like? People always liked to see it as an aggregation of countless complicated things. If the world were regarded as a unique individual, were we part of it, too?
Ruger let his thoughts wander. A moment seemed to stretch on and on as countless ideas passed through his mind-a mental massage he had often given himself back in the Kobold caves.
Although his knowledge was meager compared to those old Wizards', even Mahama's gruff retelling had let him grasp the meaning behind that teacher's words. Death, burial, life-they were all figurative, casual expressions of feeling, phrased to help a fellow like Mahama understand. They did not refer to ordinary life and death.
"The world falls very slowly..."
Wizard Zorn scratched his exposed chest, gazing at the wondrous sight on the horizon.
Although they did not understand, Ruger and Mahama stood obediently to one side, listening as Zorn occasionally voiced another observation.
Mahama looked at Ruger. Noticing that look, Ruger could not help rolling his eyes.
"Lord Zorn, this world has already shattered. What caused its destruction?" Ruger asked.
The moment Ruger finished, Mahama turned his full attention to Zorn, making a show of listening carefully.
Zorn watched the horizon, scratching himself with one hand and raising his bottle toward the distant sky with the other. He gulped down a great mouthful and let out a long breath.
Holding the bottle, he noticed the two pairs of eager eyes beside him.
"Worlds can be destroyed in all sorts of ways. They say that any world that appears in the caverns, that falls into this place, has suffered something beyond destruction in the ordinary sense. As for exactly how it was destroyed..." Zorn took another long drink. "How would