Mist coiled around her ankles as she walked along a gravel path. White-stone cliffs dropped down on either side of her, forming a narrow bridge. Around each side, that shifting mist lapped at the stone, concealing the world below.

She followed a man in a black cloak. He walked a couple of steps ahead of her, not once turning to check she was still there. With each step, the lantern handing from his staff swayed from its chain.

The path widened as they walked, expanding to make space for the stone chateau sitting at the cliff's edge ahead of them.

It was a modest building. A grey awning overlooking a set of wrought iron tables set for two hung from the front. A chimney in the back off put a lazy smoke, slowly floating up to join the overcast sky.

He stopped when he reached the doorway, turning to hold the door open for her with his white-gloved hands.

"Go on in," he said. "I'll be along in just a moment."

She nodded and scurried through the offered door. She found herself in a quiet restaurant.

"Reservations?" the maître d', a man in a simple black vest and white shirt, asked from his podium.

Reservations? Did she have a reservation? She couldn't remember. She usually remembered these things. Did she need one?

The maître d' sighed, his eyes softening around the edges as he recognized her confusion. "Tell me your name, dear. I'll check my records."

"Ah, thank you," she said. "I'm Eris Fald."

The man pursed his lips, running his finger down the pages of his logbook. "Fald, Fald, Fald. Ah, here we are. My, you are a bit early, aren't you?"

"Sorry?" Was that pity on his face? She would have to wait a little while for her table to be ready, she didn't think there was anything worth worrying over.

The man opened his mouth, perhaps an explanation on his lips, perhaps preparing to tell her the time until she could be seated.

Her traveling companion returned at that moment, though. He had shed the black cloak in favor of a black, collared shirt and left his lantern adorned walking staff elsewhere. "She's with me, Paul. Seat us at my usual table, please."

"Ah! Master Rael, is this your guest? I should have known. I'll have your table ready in just a moment."

"Thanks, Paul," Rael said.

"You're a regular here?" she asked him.

He snorted. "Something like that."

She frowned, her brow furrowing. "Where is this, by the way?"

"Oh, right, I haven't had a chance to explain yet, have I?" He sighed. "Where to begin? Your question, I suppose. Yes, this is the Restaurant at the End of the World."

"End of the World!" The white cliffs they had walked over flashed before her eyes again, the mist swirling far below them. Had that been the edge of the world? Was there nothing down there?

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, it's just a name. The world is round. You can't fall off, I promise."

"Oh, right." She laughed nervously. She'd known that. That was a basic fact. She wasn't sure what it was about the landscape outside the quiet restaurant that had made her believe so easily that it might have been the edge of the Earth.

The maître d' returned, waving for them to follow.

They were seated beside a window overlooking the cliffs, the table set with silver cutlery and adorned with a trio of low burning candles. The maître d' handed them their menus, promising their server would be with them shortly.

"Order," Rael ordered, picking up his...