WELL of the deep places, kin to the Raven’s Head, who openeth in the floor of the world. It appeareth as a pool gone utterly black at full day, a perfect dark cut into the pale crust of the earth, while ghost-steam rises white off its face and drifts toward a cold lake and the faint teeth of mountains. The rind of sinter rings it like the lip of a mouth. Its office is to give passage to the heat that hides within the ground; the eldritch fire, the first warmth, the source no eye should look upon, made visible by light no eye was made to witness. It drinks the noon and shows the under-furnace through a single black door. Look long, and the well looks back; the world is hollow, and warm, and waiting beneath the whitened ground.
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