The roof of Waters & Moore Fiduciary Exchange was a small wonder of unnoticed architecture. Each tile was made of thin-cut marble in a most flattering shade of faded green. The builder, a famed goblin crafter whose name was remarkably silly even by local standards, had used an enchanted chaos saw to transform massive blocks of the stone into finger-thick slices. Most importantly, each tile was slightly curved with a simple notch on the bottom. The roof was assembled with no mortar at all, . . .

I sat alone inside of a dark, empty bar, helping myself to the priciest wines they had. I was never much of a drinker, but I knew not what else to turn to. I wept for the loss of my wife and my infant son, both having disappeared into some unknown abyssal oblivion. To cope with such an occurrence would be as infeasible as to comprehend what happened.

I lifted the ornate, crystal glass to my slightly-parted lips, and tilted the glass. The dark red substance slid into my mouth, a dry, bit. . .

I sat alone inside of a dark, empty bar, helping myself to the priciest wines they had. I was never much of a drinker, but I knew not what else to turn to. I wept for the loss of my wife and my infant son, both having disappeared into some unknown abyssal oblivion. To cope with such an occurrence would be as infeasible as to comprehend what happened.

I lifted the ornate, crystal glass to my slightly-parted lips, and tilted the glass. The dark red substance slid into my mouth, a dry, bit. . .