Vinsk held loosely to the reins of his wagon’s horses as the low rolling hills of Parasten’s countryside slowly drifted by. Behind him ran a caravan of more wagons, all of them hauling a load of raw lightstone mined from the western mountains of Elyssanar. Lightstone was always transported raw to major cities, where they had craftsmen, lightsmiths, to do the fine tuning of its shape and reactivity. Some lightstones had to be tuned for public roads, more sensitive and longer lasting, and others for indoor use, shorter or longer lasting depending on room function. Bathroom-tuned ones were such a pain when dealing with troublesome bowel movement as they would dim before one finished doing their business. At least there was never anyone to see you when you flailed your arms about like an idiot to bring the light back.

  Such was the world of lightstone. Vinsk had always wanted to be a lightsmith growing up, but he had never managed to develop the proper sleight of hand to do so. Too much roughhousing during his youth had ruined his muscle memory, so he suspected. He was much better at carrying the stone or breaking it into little pieces, which wasn’t all that useful for lighting buildings. But he was proud to at least play a small part in its creation.

  A little squeak came from the hamster sitting on his right shoulder, busily brushing at furry cheeks with tiny paws.

  “It’s not much further, Peek,” Vinsk said, glancing at the hamster. “We should be coming into view of Irostead soon. Once we drop off the load, it’s off to the nicest inn for a good night’s rest and treats to boot!”

  Peek twitched his nose and laid down in contentment. The fluffy rodent had been his constant companion ever since he began his trade as a caravan master. He had found him alone on the roadside on the very first trip to deliver lightstone, looking rather down on his luck, if a hamster could be said to look such a way. Peek had taken to him quickly after a share of his afternoon snack, and the rest was history.

  As for their destination, the Parastenian city of Irostead, Vinsk felt more than a little uneasy, though he tried not to let it show for Peek’s sake. And the rest of the caravan, he supposed. Irostead was only a little over a hundred kilometers from the border of Kircany, and news of the war had reached his caravan halfway into their journey. More and more he expected a group of Kircans to come sweeping down on them from the sky or popping up over the next hill, but he hadn’t seen a single sign of them. Of course, he was taking a back road, one not well known to any but Parastenians and merchants. So perhaps they were safe. As long as Irostead was still in Parastenian hands, it would be an uneventful trip. But knowing Parastenians and their nonviolent ways...

  Well, he pushed it to the back of his mind. This load of lightstone had to be delivered one way or another. It was rare that Parasten’s cities ever had lightstone deliveries made to them. They tended to rely on fire for their light, to the point where most villages the caravan passed didn’t have a single lightstone. Only the major cities, and even those only for the busiest streets and buildings. But there was a sort of charm to that. Parastenians were a very warm people, and their fires were a signature cultural part of that.

  Once again Peek stirred on his shoulder, lifting his head and giving an uneasy chitter.

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  “What is it, Peek? Smell something?” Vinsk asked.

  Peek scurried down his arm and chittered even more nervously. Vinsk took him into his hands and raised him to eye level.

  “Slow down, use your words carefully and tell me what the matter is.”

  Peek looked at him, nose flittering, and gave a squeak before burying his face into Vinsk’s palm. Something was wrong.

  Carefully setting Peek down on his lap, Vinsk pulled at the reins and called for the caravan to stop. The wrongness became apparent the moment the wagon wheels rolled to a halt; the wagon was still shaking. Horses from the caravan whinnied anxiously.

  A rider came up beside the wagon, Vinsk’s assistant Dinah. “What’s going on?” she asked, giving him a nervous look as she tried to control the dancing of her horse.

  “I don’t know,” Vinsk said, putting Peek into his coat pocket and standing up. “Let me on, I want to see what’s over the next hill.”

  Dinah scooted forward and Vinsk hopped on behind her. Kicking the horse forward at a steady trot, it was only a minute before cresting the hill and seeing what was causing all the ruckus.

  Vinsk’s heart sank into his stomach.

  In the distance was the city of Irostead, and rising out of its center was a colossal earthen pillar, at least three kilometers thick going by the shadow it cast across the city. It rose higher and higher, brightly colored buildings tumbling off the top, stretching ten kilometers tall before stopping as if frozen in place.

  And then, it fell like a tree.

  The pillar broke apart as it came down, massive chunks of dirt and rock crushing entire neighborhoods and markets. The earth shook, and Vinsk shook with it.

  Another spear of earth pierced through the city, just as large as the one before. And another, and another. Mountains began piling up. In some places it looked as though the mouth of Hell opened and began swallowing streets and all who walked them. Vinsk could hear nothing of Dinah’s wailing or Peek’s chittering, only the rumbling as earth met city.

  An eternity seemed to pass before it all came to a stop, and there was no longer any sign of there ever being an Irostead. Just mounds and spikes and crevices of earth beneath a cloud of dust. Dinah was trying to hold back her sobbing, and Vinsk was barely able to manage it himself. All those people, who wouldn’t raise a fist to harm another no matter the circumstance, gone. Why? In the names of Heaven, Paradise, and all the Sentinels, why?

  “You must go back to Elyssanar ahead of the caravan,” Vinsk whispered into Dinah’s ear. “You must tell them. Kircany has a Class 4 Apocalypse. Swear to me you will tell them.”

  Dinah nodded fervently. “I swear on my life and the Halberd.”

  “Good,” Vinsk sighed, then climbed off.

  Dinah turned her horse around. “Where should I meet you?”

  “The usual,” Vinsk said. “Go now.”

  She hesitated, then kicked her horse into a gallop without looking back. Vinsk stared after her until she disappeared beyond the rolling hills. The caravan started up towards him as she passed.

  “Well, Peek…” Vinsk said, taking the hamster out and setting him on his shoulder. “…it looks like we have a new job to do.”

  The caravan arrived at the top of the hill and everyone took in the view. They had probably seen the pillars rise into the sky, but Vinsk was glad they hadn’t seen them crashing down onto the city.

  He climbed onto the nearest wagon and stood on its bench, facing towards everyone.

  “Unload the lightstone!” he roared. “Cut down every tree in sight and load them in its place. We are going down to Irostead to find all the bodies we can and give them a proper Parastenian pyre burial. If there aren’t enough trees, we’ll use our wagons. Their fires welcomed us and lit our souls alight, and so we will light our own and let the flames carry their souls to forever rest in the embrace of Paradise!”

  Everyone was silent for a moment, then each began unloading a load of lightstone.