There is an abbey built beneath the bed of a ke that was boiled away, scalding and melting a demon horde that once assailed the nd. Of te, the water has begun to return to the kebed. It is barely an inch deep, but it has begun to drip down into the abbey's halls. In a few years it will surely be flooded and all those monks and nuns will need to flee or drown.

  As I wander the dark stone halls of the abbey, I repeatedly cross paths with a particur nun pushing a bck metal cart. Her skin is blue, her lips are bck, and her eyes are red. The vestments of the nuns and monks here are all solid bck. More robes with hats sewn into their hoods than habits and wimples. We cross paths one st time as I approach the door to the stairs to leave and she asks me why I avert my gaze every time I see her.

  I blush, cp my hands together, take a breath, apologize for being about to say something she may not want to hear, and then tell her it is because she is very pretty. The words are fast and nervous.

  She takes that better than I would have expected, but she does not believe me when I tell her that I am a great lord from the world above, come to see what I can do to save this pce or at least its people. I invite her to come with me so that I might prove my cim of lordship to her and – perhaps – at least save her from the drowning that all know is coming.