The ancients knew the world was round. The secret was hidden in geometry and sunlight, plain for all to derive. Since then, they learned the galaxy was a disc, the universe an expanding sphere, the cycle of souls a wheel. Circles, circles, circles. As inevitable and unchanging as zero. No need to even check for a problem so long solved.

Until the Fall.

If this planet, if this reality, were circular then it would not appear a fraction so vast. It would curve away over the horizon and creep up slowly like a mountain. But the Lethe, in its cruelty, does not allow the Fall to be concealed behind optical illusions. It stands in its immensity, the sharp edge of reality, an edifice beyond even the dreams of the biomancers to prepare you for. A curtain of water infinitely wide and inconceivably high, the waterfall at the edge of the world where Oceanus overflowed and came cascading down into the Underworld. Down, down, down in endless sheets. Down, down, down until it arrived here, at the bottom. Down, down, down.

Surrounding the broken reality of the Fall is the inevitable consequence of it. Winds slash against it and catch the rushing cascade as they circle back, becoming the material of rain and storm. Lightning scorches overhead in the Thunderer's colours; waves born of ever-impact crash at the ship's sides in the rhythm of the Earthshaker. The edge of the world looms closer and closer until its storms mercifully consume the sight of it, the trauma of its impossible visual immensity replaced with the shock of its endless crashing roar.

But even over that roar another can be heard.

The only saving grace is that you have seen this manner of creature before. On the first steps of your journey you beheld a monster that had consumed the better part of the Grand Armada, a titan who shattered planets like chestnuts. All the weapons of all sentient life had been turned against the Eater of Worlds and had barely managed to stop it days from reaching Tellus. No matter the Lethe, a sight like the slain behemoth can never be forgotten.

And here, in the darkening storms before the Fall, swims its sister. 

The ancients knew that the world was round. They knew, too, to write on the edge of their maps that here there be dragons.

*

[b]Dyssia![/b]

A pen and notepad reluctantly, irresistibly drag themselves out of the Pix's pockets and into her hands (it went without saying that the fact that this was happening deep underwater posed no issue). "Would you say," said the Biomancer with the air of someone conducting a survey, "that it would be more convenient for me to be named after my specialization?"

Ah, this was the upshot of being targeted by a Biomancer specifically. Servitors knew their roles and knew their jobs and so could be impossible to reason with or deter, but Biomancers were always looking to Do Better. That meant that your opinion on matters of performance improvement like this was as important as honour to a Ceronian. 

"But I'd appreciate it if you swore to Poseidon Earthshaker," she said quickly afterwards. There tentacles wrapped around Dyssia tightened a bit as she said it. It had the aspect of a saleswoman trying to close a deal in the seconds after the customer had noticed a missing airbag.