It appears that another religion, separate from the gods that reincarnated me exists in this world. They are called World Forger Holymen, and their gods hate ours. They also have their own magic system, apparently separate from the video game like mechanics I’m used to. It was the original magic of this world. A sort of true, primal magic in a way.

Despite standing out in the cold, sweat dripped down Thaim’s face as he waited, lantern in hand. He was a plump little man, balding, with a scaggy short red beard on his face. The man pulled his watch from his pocket. Despite the commotion, she was late. Now Thaim wasn’t a rebel. But he was a traitor. The quiet man, despite his mild manner and obedient attitude, had always been against the Supreme One, from the very first day he had come to his service. And yet, he was bad at acting out. He could barely fight, and he visibly shook whenever a Fallen Hand walked past him, terrified at their perpetual, grizzly grin devoid of lips.

“Thaim.” A woman’s voice whispered from behind him. He jumped slightly.

“My lady, why do you insist on testing my heart’s strength?” He sighed, turning to face the mischievous Rogue woman.

She just smiled.

“You’re late.” Thaim said, tucking his watch back into his pocket.

“I was scouting the area. Can’t be too careful when you’re in the Supreme One’s palace.”

“I assure you.” Thaim paused, frowning at the sound of the carnage outside. “It is more or less safer then it usually is.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She said. “Go on, lead the way.”

Thaim shook his head. This woman was way too insistent. And her perpetual smile, though some found it charming, seemed ingenuine to the little scholar holy man. Thaim let out a silent prayer to his forgotten old gods, before extinguishing his lantern, leading Merrill into the heart of the Empire.

The Capital Hearth had only one entrance. And it was through the throne room. Thaim pushed the wooden doors open, the sound of creaking wood causing him to sweat profusely. With just a crack wide enough for his wide frame to fit, he stepped inside, Merrill right behind him.

“So this is wood…” Merrill whispered, running her fingers along the grain.

“Now is not the time my lady.” Thaim gestured.

It was a long stone hall way that stretched for nearly a hundred feet, leading to even grander wooden doors at the end. Lights aligned the sides of the walls, illuminated by some mysterious power. Along the way, Merrill noted the tapestries and window panes, of which all depicted a shining figure dressed in a white cloak. The Supreme One.

First, there he was, born of the Flames of the World. He struck down the tyrants, who destroyed the common people. They fell to him, their blood crimson glass that spilled along the panes. Then, there was the Issium. They were a depicted as dark masses, with long, twirling tentacles that choked the land, taking its very life. And then, they were defeated, the Supreme One striking them down with a glowing sword that shone with brilliance.

And then, there was white. The Eternal Frost. The story ended, the figure of brilliance seated atop a sprawling throne.

“Hey Thaim.” Merrill whispered. “Is it true? Had there really been a time when there was no snow?”

“According to the Supreme One, yes. There was time when plants grew throughout the land, much like they do in the Oasis.”

Merrill nodded, her eyes drifting back to the figure atop the throne. And there it was. The next room over, the Eternal Throne sat empty. It resembled a sort of basket, weaved together by iron vines that twisted together, forming a seat, the excess material stretching far above in a twisting sort of spiral. The throne room itself resembled a dome, tiled with a wide array of colors, the roof ornated by the same glass panes story that had been told outside. And up above it all, the glass image of woman, hair as white as her dress. Her eyes were closed as if she were asleep, a soft smile on her face, as if she were having a pleasant dream.

Merrill tempted stepping closer to the Throne. She noticed something. Twisted amongst these iron vines were unusual shapes. Like buds.

“Roses my lady.” Thaim said, pulling on her sleeve. “They were plants that grew pre-Frost.”

Merrill pulled her arm away, staring in wonder. And then, before Thaim could stop her, she sat on the Throne, wearing a satisfied smile as she did so.

“My lady!” He was about to tear her off, but she dodged, getting up with deft agility.

“Not very comfortable.” She smiled. “No wonder he always looks so grumpy.”

Thaim let out an exhausted sigh, wiping the sweat from his brow. He was a scholar. He wasn’t meant for this traitor business. But this was the task his master, the previous Archivist, had given him.

“Behind the throne.” Thaim gestured.

Sure enough, a little behind the raised throne platform were two spiraling stone staircases that descended into the depths of the Hearth.

“To the left one my lady.” Thaim said, walking towards it.

“Are these the only entrances? It goes right through the throne room. No back doors or anything?” She asked as they descended the dark spiral, illuminated only by Thaim’s lantern.

“The Supreme One wishes to see who comes and goes through the Hearth. He wishes all who enter to bow in fealty before the throne.”

A reminder of who’s in power. Merrill thought.

The stair descended deeper and deeper, no end in sight. After a minute or so, however, they opened, down into a concrete corridor resembling the one above. It was well decorated, a red carpet sprawled down on it as it faded into the distance. Along its walls were several wooden doors, much smaller than the grand ones above. It was way more personal than what Merrill had expected. Compared to the grandiose and posturing of the room above, this part of the Hearth was tame. Comfortable even. It was the Supreme One’s home.

“We must go deeper, unfortunately my lady.”

“Where are we going?”

“The Supreme One’s personal quarters.”