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In the distant wilderness, beyond even the occlusive intervening mists, it was said that there lay an object of utter impossibility. This thing, they said, was incomprehensible, for rather than existing in the known realm of hyperboloids or even in the somewhat-out-of-place realm of stellated polyhedra and planes, it curved differently, in a manner utterly alien to all other things extant. Some indeed held that this object was merely a maddening illusion and nothing more, placed in our world by the second Pantheon after the Dread Theomachy; others thought it different and older still, a misplaced relic of the aeon past when, as is said, the Lost Ones reigned and curvature was not fixed in the Imbalance. What it was none could ascertain with ease, for time uncounted had passed since last any had crossed the mists and reached it. The name, however, had been passed down through tradition from unremembered winding pasts: all knew it to be called the sphere.

The sphere! It was a name regarded with reverence and with skepticism, a name whose referent eluded all description and theorization. It had remained shrouded in the deepest night of mystery from time immemorial, but now we would go - we would fly across the wilderness, through nigh-impenetrable fog, and we would find at last what we most sought - an answer.