The Vault of the Midas Stone

John Langdale

There is a mountain even the weather avoids. Clouds skirt by it like oil around a soap bubble. The ground is cracked and dusty, with only the most hostile of bramble-plants choking the mountain's approach. Still, despite the lack of vegetation, the place is a maze.

Perhaps after a couple of hours of marching in circles near the peak a traveler might see something strange - an over-sized seed with an eye (painted?) on it, lying in the dust. It's about as big as a tennis ball, and not much heavier.

Soon the seeds are everywhere.

Then the travelers stumble upon the town.