The Mountains at the Edge of the World

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"Why are they called the Mountains at the Edge of the World?" Sam asked, pausing to catch his breath in the thin mountain air. "We have certainly traveled far enough for them to earn it."

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Sir Spindle replied with a grim smile, gesturing toward the edge of a nearby precipice. "Be careful, though."
The air was freezing cold, and the night sky was full of stars. Approaching the edge of the granite cliff, Sam looked over the edge and through the thin veil of clouds saw nothing but stars extending to infinity. Overwhelmed by vertigo, Sam stumbled away from the cliff in terror, his heart hammering in his chest while his breath came in ragged gasps.
"There's nothing down there... nothing but stars."

"Of course. Did I not say they were the Mountains at the Edge of the World?" the Goblin Knight replied.

"But that's impossible. The world is round..."

"Maybe on Earth. Here in Faerie, everyone knows the world is flat, and therefore must have an edge."

Sam paused a moment to consider this statement. "But what would happen if you fell off the edge?"

Sir Spindle shook his head in sadness. "Unless you could fly, you would continue to fall forever... and ever."

"A most disturbing thought," said a familiar voice from among the rocks above them. Turning to face its owner, Sam and his companions found themselves confronted by Lord Blacktalon and a horde of undead things that were little more than bleached bones and midnight shadows. "Shall we put it to the test?"

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