Forcing his legs to obey, Callan shuffled forward until he was at the very edge. Holding onto the door, he leaned out into the void.

After a moment of squinting, he was able to make out a bottom, but it was easily a hundred feet below. He imagined this was what it was like staring down into the Grand Canyon. Now he was glad that particular family trip had gotten canceled when he was ten. Also, this was really not the time to discover that he had a problem with heights.

Another blast of wind tugged at him. It was tinged with the same saltwater smell he always associated with the Puget Sound. Wherever they were must be close to the ocean.

Hmm. It appears that the walkway has deteriorated over the centuries, Xeph noted dryly. No matter. You should be able to scale the cliff—

“Yeah, nuh uh. Not happening.”

What?

Another breeze hit Callan, and he shivered as it cut through the tears in his shirt. “I’m not ascending that thing in the dark. We’ll come back in the morning.”

He slammed the door shut, then set off back down the tunnel.

Where are you going? Xeph asked, a worried note in his voice.

“To find a bed. This day has been long enough already without adding hardcore parkour to it. Whatever is waiting for us up there can wait a little longer.”

----------------------------------------

He woke the next morning with stiff aches in his back and legs. At first Callan had feared they were signs of his advancing cancer, but after the sleep cleared from his mind further, he realized it was likely nothing more than the aftereffects of all the strain he had put his body through the day previous.

Or, possibly his injuries. While he couldn’t quite reach where the velak had hit him in the back, the spot on his leg was still red and tender to the touch.

How did you sleep? Xeph asked in a friendly tone as Callan’s feet slid off the bed and onto the dusty floor. He had managed to shake most of two millennia’s accrual off the sheets but hadn’t bothered to do much with the rest of the place. If they ended up coming back here, he’d have to do something more permanent about the mess.

“Fine, I suppose.” He frowned as he took in the room. Xeph claimed this one had belonged to his former avatar, and Callan supposed it was certainly big enough, but it had nothing in the way of ornamentation. Just the bed, and a small chest by the door. “Don’t suppose there’s a chance of getting a warm breakfast in this place, is there?”

Perhaps if you cooked it yourself, but with what ingredients? I doubt anything other than those emergency rations have survived the passage of time.

“Honestly, I’m surprised anything has survived the test of time down here. You’d think it would all have rotted away by now.”

Hah. Xeph’s chuckle was like a boulder rolling down a mountainside. That is dveorgan construction for you.

Callan lifted the lid of the chest by his bedside, grunting as it resisted his efforts. “Those are the same people who built the golems, right?”

...I believe so.

With a little effort, he managed to lift the lid off the chest. Inside, it was absolutely filled with piles of folded clothes, all the same color. Priest robes, if he had to guess.

“Suppose it’s better than wearing bloody rags.” He glanced down at what remained of his own outfit. The last twenty-four hours hadn’t been kind to them, as there were rips in his shirt, and the bottom of his pants had been turned to ribbons thanks to the velak acid or whatever it was.

Pulling several of the outfits from the chest and laying them out on the bed, Callan was surprised to discover they were not, in fact, robes. Or rather they were nothing like what he would have expected a priest to wear. They looked like ordinary street clothes, albeit in a somewhat garish dark purple color. The pants bowed out near the leg a bit, and the shirts tapered near the bottom more than he liked, but beyond that they were plain and made from a sturdy material he didn’t recognize. He rubbed it between his fingers, trying to place it.

Veloomian silk, Xeph offered.

“Right. What’s a veloomian?”

Not a veloomian. The veloom are... They... Xeph trailed off, muttering something incomprehensible, though Callan suspected whatever it was wouldn’t have been proper to say in polite company.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.” Poking around further in the chest, he managed to find a matching outfit that looked cut to his size. He started to pull off his own clothes.

Interesting, though. If everything in this chest was left by Xeph’s former avatar, why weren’t they all the same size?

Had his followers been expecting the god to summon Callan? Or if not him specifically, someone like him. Someone from Earth.

The implications were more than a little disturbing.

He pulled on the new outfit, deigning to keep his socks and boxers. The former avatar hadn’t left anything behind for him other than shirts and pants, but there was no way Callan intended to go commando in a brand-new world. The last thing he needed was to start a riot because he accidentally exposed himself.

The pants didn’t have any belt loops, just a simple drawstring he could use to tighten them. That accomplished, Callan admired himself as best he could without a mirror. Other than the color, he thought they looked nice.

Plus, they were clean. That counted for a lot right now.

Ready to depart?

“Almost.” Digging into the chest further, Callan pulled out a drawstring bag with a loop of rope on it for carrying. He poked his head inside and discovered it contained a myriad of supplies—a blanket, several packages of food rations, an empty water bottle made of tin, and even what looked like a flint and steel. Everything needed for a moderate journey.

Yeah, now he was definitely suspicious about this whole setup.

Tightening the bag around his shoulders, he gave a satisfied nod. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

Good. Let us return to the exit.

“Actually, maybe I’m not ready. Shouldn’t I poke around and find a rope, or some climbing equipment?” The closest that Callan had ever been to cliff scaling back on Earth was watching people climb the rock wall at REI, but even so, he knew that only the most skilled or insane of individuals attempted that with without proper support. “After all, if I fall from that height, there won’t be any do-overs.”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Xeph let out another of his rumbling chuckles. Oh mortal, did you forget who you are now? What need have you of equipment, when the powers of stone are yours to command?

----------------------------------------

As the first step pulled itself away from the cliff face and formed a solid ledge, Callan felt a bit silly. Of course his Shape Stone ability was uniquely suited to this particular problem. Had he not been so tired last night, that would have likely occurred to him.

Not that he would have attempted this in the dark. He glanced down at the valley floor below with a shiver. The view was bad enough in daylight as it was.

He had arrived back at the door shortly after this world’s sunrise, the sky above still stained a deep lilac. Not that Callan had taken much time to enjoy the view, with Xeph immediately launching into instructions about using his orison.

You need to concentrate on refining your ability. Do not attempt to move the entire square of stone, or you will end up with a block that isn’t wide enough to properly support your feet. Focus on only moving a small piece, that will both conserve your apotheosis, as well as provide a broader surface to stand on.

“Right. More surface area better.” Callan stopped manipulating the step and studied his handiwork. It was maybe three inches thick, though not consistently. Some places bulged, while others were clearly too thin. It also didn’t stick out nearly as far as Callan would have liked, barely enough room for one of his feet, let alone two.

That is not bad for a first attempt. Now try to form the next one a little wider. Do not worry about the variations in thickness, overall this ledge should be more than enough to hold your weight.

“I really hope you’re right about that.” Callan tried glancing upward but couldn’t see much from his current position. “How far up do we have to go?”

Not too far. If you space them properly, we should only need to form... ten steps, perhaps. Certainly no more than fifteen.

“That’s going to take more than my current apotheosis limit can support.”

Not if you are careful about limiting material. At worst, we wait for you to recover before continuing. Xeph paused, then added, You should also form handholds above the steps as well. Just in case.

“Shouldn’t I be practicing this elsewhere first?”

And use up more of your precious time? I thought you were eager to be cured, human.

“Yeah, well, better to risk my cancer spreading than a certain fall because one of my steps isn’t formed right.” Just then, a twinge passed through Callan’s leg, making him wince. It was probably just from the velak attack, but... He gritted his teeth, then set to forming another step.

When it finally came time to step out onto the first platform, Callan had to take a few minutes to pep-talk himself into doing so, but it was surprisingly not as bad as he had feared. His handholds were solid—probably owing to the fact they were shaped perfectly for his grip—and so long as he didn’t look down, he could pretend he was just a few feet off the ground. Forming new steps while hanging from a current one took a bit of practice, but he got the rhythm of it quick enough.

In the end they still took a break for a half-hour to let his apotheosis drop, though part of that was because Xeph insisted he use enough of Shape Stone to form an alcove halfway up the cliff line rather than retreat back to the tunnel entrance. It was big enough for Callan to lay down in if he wanted, albeit in the fetal position.

Instead, he sat with his legs dangling off the edge, trying keep his gaze riveted to the cliff opposite.

Excellent progress, mortal. Your skill with Shape Stone is already noticeably improving.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Callan didn’t want to think about anything even tangentially related to the fact he was hanging off a sheer cliff right now. He tried changing the subject. “Don’t suppose anything has come back to you since yesterday, has it? Anything about what’s waiting for us out there?”

You mean the Outerworld? I recall hundreds of details.

Callan blinked in surprise. “Really? And when were you planning to share these tidbits with me? I’d kind of like to know what we’re walking into up there.”

I didn’t share them because they would be of little use to you. Any knowledge I have about this world is outdated at best. In the time I spent underground, empires will have risen and fallen, cities will have been wiped off the map. The landscape will have reshaped itself several times over.

“I kind of doubt that last one, takes a bit more than two thousand years for continental drift to occur.”

What?

“Never mind. So, what can you tell me? At least give me a baseline to work with.”

Hmm. Xeph fell silent for a few moments. When I was still in power, this continent was known as Urslang. My temple here was hidden at the southern tip, an area that had been known as the Badlands. Likely both those names will at least still be remembered, if not commonly used.

“That’s a start.” He sniffed the air, the salty scent on the wind still overpowering. So they were definitely near the ocean, then. “Anything else noteworthy?”

Nothing that comes readily to mind. Although I suppose the pythian trees are somewhat more common on this continent than others.

“Trees. Right.” Callan chuckled ruefully to himself. He wasn’t sure how that particular information would ever prove important, but Xeph seemed pleased to remember the detail.

Reaching into his pack, he extracted one of the chewy survival rations and ripped open its package. Xeph had told him that his apotheosis would recover quicker if he slept or ate, and since he wasn’t going to attempt a nap out here, this was the next best thing.

Once his apotheosis was almost back down to zero, Callan set to work forming more steps. From this little alcove, he could finally make out the top of the cliff line, which lit a fire under his efforts. The sooner he was done hanging from this nauseating drop, the better. Last thing he wanted was to still be forming steps when the sun went down.

Although the sky overhead was still tinged with lilac, so perhaps he didn’t need to worry. It seemed the sun moved much slower on this world.

By the time the last step formed, Callan had mostly worked out the problem with the uneven thickness. He’d discovered it was a matter of having his fingers splayed apart as he worked, meaning the stone was squeezed together in some places and not others. By keeping his fingers together, the efforts were noticeably smoother.

Instead of forming a handhold, Callan reached for the top of the cliff, launching off the newly created step to haul himself the rest of the way. He had a moment of panic as his fingers scrabbled at the loose surface above for purchase, but finally they enclosed around a hardy bush, and he pulled himself up.

Flopping onto his back, he lay there panting, staring up at the sky. A laugh bubbled up onto his lips until it was all-consuming.

Mortal? Should I be afraid for your sanity? Do you need me to administer another clarifying shock?

“I most certainly do not.” He wiped a tear from his eye and sat up. The cliff yawned at his feet, and Callan could only marvel that he had just climbed the entire thing without so much as a rope to save himself from falling. In hindsight, it seemed a little crazy.

Scratch that, a LOT crazy.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, he climbed to his feet. It was only then that he realized the sun was overhead. So, not morning, after all. Lilac colored skies were apparently just the norm around here.

Then he noticed the tree. It was some distance on the other side of the canyon, possibly miles away, which is why he hadn’t been able to see it before. And yet, he could make out details even from here, could see the individual leaves hanging from its boughs.

How big did a tree have to be in order to see its leaves from miles away?

“Is that a—?” he began.

A pythian tree? Yes, it does appear so. Based on the leaf color, it should be the dry season at the moment. Not the best time of year to be traveling the Badlands, but at least we will not have to worry about rain.

Callan turned in a full circle, taking in the landscape. A cloudless lilac sky reigned above, while a dusty plain of brown grass and the occasional cluster of bushes ran for miles behind him. Some ways off in the distance he spied another of the giant pythian trees, and possibly a third one even further away.

“Yep, we’re definitely not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” he muttered.

What’s a Toto?

“In this instance? Probably you.” Even though Callan had known ever since the velak that they weren’t on Earth any longer, it was one thing to know, and another to have it confirmed so visually. Between the purple sky and the trees bigger than imagination, the full weight of just what he had taken on hit him in full. He was supposed to help Xeph rebuild his followers? Here? His mind could barely wrap around the idea at the moment.

We should head towards that pythian tree. Where there’s a tree in the Badlands, there’s usually civilization.

Xeph’s words snapped Callan from his mounting panic better than any shock could have. Right. He didn’t need to comprehend the world fully. He just needed to put one foot in front of the other and focus on what was important. The rest would figure itself out as they went.

“Pythian tree, right. Let’s go.” Shouldering his pack, he set out across the dusty plain.