Beyond the sea is the ice and beyond the ice is the mountains. And what’s beyond the mountains… nobody knows.
Beyond the mountains lies the Desolate Space. The Great Meandering. The Eternal Wasteland.
No plants grow here. The rivers run red with coppery, bitter water that writhes with parasites. The sky is alight with radiant, nuclear fire that melts the horizon away into an indistinct haze.
There are many strange things here, things that you have never imagined.
Don’t worry. I’ll make sense of them where I can. I remember what it is like to be a man. I’ll try to explain, but then, I might get muddled up from time to time. It’s a side effect of straying so close to the Fade.
That’s what they call it–that indistinct merging. The truth is, there is no horizon. There is no end. Just a gradual discombobulative entropy that breaks the mind down into tiny pieces and scatters them, if you get too close.
But I’m not too close. Not yet.