Surprise tickled Ardus as he looked at the date. A dissonant note traveled his mind, trudging up from the abyss of oblivion, revealing a form long not seen. This was the anniversary of the day he had come here, 22 years ago. He tried to remember the last time he remembered this day, but couldn’t. He knew he had at one point, but any details hid themselves.

  Should he do something? No, he must do something. When was the last time he had done something for himself? Ardus abruptly stood from his chair. What would Ardus do? Perhaps he could walk the stones for fun and not for duty. At the very least, he knew it would be outside of this forsaken little temple. He made his way down towards the lone door. Ardus pushed it open and stepped outside.

  The temple at the end of the world was a lone building in the middle of an infinite sea of grass that stretched in every direction. An alien grass, that always held green, and never grew taller than the ankle. Nothing ever really changed here. It gave the likeness of place, but anyone who spent more than a few breaths here knew that it was truly no place. That this was a place between places, an amalgamation that could hold nary a candle to the realness of the places it sat between.

  At the edge of the world, the air was neither cool nor warm. It didn’t change as the day came and went, it didn’t change as the seasons turned, the temperature simply stayed a neutral tepid. You didn’t notice it, not until you had been here months or years, and you found yourself wondering what it meant to be hot or cold and if those were simply aberrations of memory, placed there by years of madness. Then the tepid air crawled the skin, slithering over, forcing you to be so painfully aware of its existence after you had so long ignored it. At least until the next day came, and temperature became again something that no longer crossed the mind. But the air would still be there, waiting for a stray thought to near it.

  Ardus now walked to the stones. He imagined himself taking a step beyond them, seeing what lay beyond the edge. But fear held him paralyzed. No one that crossed the stones ever came back, even if they only crossed in jest. Something took hold of their mind and they never looked back. Instead, Ardus simply walked next to stones, which were painstakingly placed there by his preceding priests to mark the edge. But even after only a few moments, he grew bored. He dejectedly went back to the church and sat again at his seat by the table.

  He thought of sketching, perhaps writing, but couldn’t bring himself to. He hadn’t been able to for days now, his mind too excited or not excited enough. He didn’t know. So, Ardus simply spent most of his time staring at blank pages, imagining turning their infinite potential into a real, tangible, and flawed creation. The day would melt away, and Ardus would have put no more on the page than the start of the day. Ardus didn’t know how much time passed, as he stared at the pages, but he knew a lot had. He read through the pages he had written and sketched before, the pages his predecessors had, but nothing struck him, no magic inspiration. Ardus’ ruminations were finally interrupted by the creak of the door.

  Ardus looked up as a man pushed through the door. Ardus didn’t often have visitors. The only people who came here were lost souls looking to go beyond the edge of the world. Many people would walk on by, forgoing a visit to the temple. But on the brief occasion, someone would come in and bless Ardus with their voice.

  The man wore a white cloak, filthily stained with browns, grays, and reds of unknown origins. He had a wild and unkempt beard, as well as an equally wild head of hair atop his head. The man walked slowly across the floor, a soft but audible tap for every footstep. He looked at Ardus and slowed, so Ardus gestured for the man to sit across from him at the table. The man nodded and walked with small haste towards the seat.

  “Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Bread?”

  The man shook his head. The silver pendant around the man’s neck gently shook, and Ardus realized he was looking at a knight, sworn to one of the gods. There was no sword, no armor, but the pendant was one a knight would carry.

  “You do not have to speak if you do not wish. But I am here for you.”

  “You are too kind.” The knight’s voice was tired and slow. He looked to be barely past thirty, though the beard made it hard to judge.

  “The least I can do, for you have undertaken quite the journey to get here.”

  The knight affixed Ardus with his dark eyes. “How does one live with his failure, priest? How does one continue to live after he pissed away everything of meaning in his entire life, pissed away his past, present, and future?”

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “The future is always there; you cannot lose it. Your past may not be pretty, but your future and present are what you make them.”

  “A nice sentiment, I am sure. What of the vows I made? The promises? I failed to keep even a single one. What kind of man does that make me?”

  “Perhaps you are not a good man. That does not mean you cannot redeem yourself. Please, tell me what road has led you here, what road has put you in such woes.”

  The knight sighed and looked down.

  “I was a knight. A sworn sword of Elladan.”

  Ardus nearly fell out of his chair. A Sword of Elladan in his church! But in such morose. A dark thought tickled the back of his mind.

  “I had a wife. A child. Brothers and sisters in arms. I loved a great many folks, and they loved me.”

  Ardus could see tears beginning to form in the man’s eyes.

  “Have you heard of The Traitor Knight, priest?”

  A traitor knight? Ardus softly shook his head.

  “He was a knight who betrayed Elladan. With twelve conspirators, he slew him, and they took godhood for themselves.”

  Fury rose through Ardus. “What nonsense are you even suggesting?” he shouted. “A group of men, slaying a god?”

  Tears were gone from the knight’s face. “You are not wrong for doubting me, for it is a ridiculous story, and I would not hasten to believe it had I not been there. But it is true. The Traitor Knight was foremost among Elladan’s sworn swords, but he betrayed his patron.”

  “I refuse to believe this. Do not tell your petty lies here.”

  “You don’t need to, priest, it happened regardless of your beliefs. War has broken out among Elladan’s children and the Traitor Knight’s Disciples. Our world is changing, and I will not stay around to see what it becomes. You would be wise to join me.”

  “Leave with your filth. See if are welcomed to beyond with such a tongue.”

  The knight stood and calmly walked outside. How could a man of such a high position tell such lies? Yet even as he thought that a sinking feeling was settling in Ardus’ gut, a terrible feeling that the knight had not been lying. Could gods die? How could man kill a god? Ardus wondered what he would do in such a case. Probably stay here at the temple. Maybe walk beyond the edge. Did life matter without a god to make it matter? Elladan’s children were gods, but they were not Elladan. They could be as petty and ill-natured as humans.

  Days passed and Ardus’ routine didn’t change. If this was a world without Elladan, why was it the same as the world before? Every day was waking up, sweeping the temple, lighting an incense, walking the stones, eating a little, then sitting down and feigning writing or sketching. At least until the end of the fifth day since the knight left, as the sun of the day began to go below the horizon and light became low.

  Ardus saw them walking towards the edge of the world. A large caravan of people and animals, more than all those Ardus had seen in all of his time here, was slowly making their way towards him. Ardus watched them, never once taking his eyes off them. He knew now.

  Ardus was crying by the time the caravan reached him. He didn’t have the strength to call out to them and ask why they were coming, why they were throwing their lives away for a chance. Ardus simply sat down, leaned against the temple wall, and cried. The passersby had the courtesy to not ask why Ardus wept, instead just looking ahead and stepping beyond the stones, ushering their lives to a new beginning.

  Long after the last of the caravan had gone, long after Ardus had stopped weeping, and the night had fully taken away any remaining light, Ardus felt a strange touch on his hair. He reached up and felt wetness. Now something tapped his hand. Rain? It had never rained at the edge of the world. Yet then the rain began falling in earnest, soaking Ardus and his clothing. It had never rained at the edge of the world, yet now it did. Even the world wept at the loss of Elladan. Ardus cried again.

  Ardus began to feel the wind pick up, pushing the rain harshly. The air began to feel alive and excited. Pillars of light struck across the horizon and Ardus heard the soft rumble of distant thunder. He struggled and lifted his body off of the ground. Ardus leaned into the wind, disallowing from pushing him over. The rain where it hit now, falling harsher and more violent than before. Ardus just lowered his head, protecting his eyes. He took a hesitant step, slow and labored. Another followed soon after he finished, and he found even another after that. Light flashed around him, and Ardus heard thunder again, this time louder and angrier. Ardus was growing scared, but his feet kept moving.

  There was nothing as Ardus stepped over the stones. No special feeling, no grand realization, just a man stepping over stones in the rain. He collapsed to his knees and placed his hands into the mud. The coldness felt relaxing on his hands. Ardus began to feel a calmness spread through him. He raised his head, straightening his back, and lifting his hands. The rain didn’t feel so painful anymore.

  “Elladan… Lord…” Ardus found himself speaking. “Do not turn your back on humanity. I do not know what happened, or what they did. But I beg you anyways. Please. It is selfish that I ask, but please, can you send me a sign that not all hope is lost?”

  As Ardus opened his eyes, the wind and rain seemed to die, even if only for the briefest of moments. Then the rain surged, pushing harder than ever before. Light danced across the distance, illuminating the sky, and a dark silhouette formed on the canvas of light. Thunder crashed down from the heavens, deafening and violent, yet Ardus held no fear, for his god was still there.

  Ardus saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw a shadow with a silver pendant walking back towards the stones. Ardus couldn’t help but smile.

  “I hope you find redemption,” Ardus said softly.

  Ardus stood, easily now. He wouldn’t walk back to the church. He figured he might as well see what was beyond the horizon, for he knew the world would be safe.