Siegmun was the first to approach the tower, raising a hand to signal his companions to hold back whilst he inspected the entrance.
Step by cautious step, he advanced until he stood before the reinforced metal door. His sharp eyes traced the contours of its frame, scanning the top, sides, and even the base for anything unusual.
'Oh?' Siegmun murmured, his gaze locking onto something above the door.
Three distinct symbols were carved into small, tablet-like stones, suspended over the doorway's mantle.
'What is it?' Riniock and Niann called from behind, craning their necks to get a look.
'I recognise these from a history lesson,' Siegmun said. 'They're sigils of tarnish. Ancient markings – practically forgotten nowadays.'
'Sigils of tarnish? Here?' Riniock echoed, his mind already racing.
'It's strange, I know. These symbols originate from the mainland. Their presence here makes little sense.'
Riniock stroked his chin, considering the implications.
'Are they active?' he asked, cupping his mouth to project his voice forward.
'Doubt it…the carvings are faded, void of colour.'
'Niann and I are coming forward.'
'Please do,' Siegmun said, still fixated on the sigils.
As they approached, Riniock's breath caught in his throat. His suspicions were confirmed – these weren't just any sigils of tarnish but three of the most significant: the Deterrent, the Guardian, and the Key.
Together, they formed a ward meant to repel intruders, sealing the entrance from unwelcome guests.
Fortunately, time had drained their power. They were nothing more than lifeless engravings now.
Without hesitation, Riniock reached for the metal handle and pulled.
The door swung open with ease, revealing the way forward.
The base of the tower was unremarkably mundane – lined with burlap sacks, crates, and barrels stacked haphazardly against the walls. Over time, invasive flora had crept in, weaving through the slats, whilst thick cobwebs draped over every surface like an undisturbed shroud.
Only one thing stood out.
At the centre of the room lay a circular platform, its surface adorned with intricate patterns and what appeared to be a spell circle. The craftsmanship was striking, each line and symbol meticulously inscribed, hinting at a purpose beyond simple decoration.
The three knelt beside it, careful not to touch it, studying the engravings in an attempt to decipher their meaning.
'Looks like some kind of propulsion spell,' Siegmun observed, pointing at a particular set of markings that suggested upward force.
'That's only part of it,' Niann corrected. 'This spell doesn't just propel – it transports both objects and living beings directly upward before shifting them a few qius forward in the direction they're facing.'
Riniock tilted his head back, scanning the ceiling. Above them, a platform jutted out, just barely visible from where they stood. It was far too high to reach through conventional means, and none of them had the aptitude for flight or teleportation magick.
This spell circle was their only way up.
'Does it still work?' Riniock asked, rising to his feet.
'If the engravings remain intact, it should.' Niann gestured towards the platform. 'Step inside and channel your odh into it.'
He wasted no time.
Following his friend's suggestion, Riniock stepped onto the platform and positioned himself within the spell circle. With a focused motion of his fingers, he guided his odh through his conduits, channelling it downward into the circle beneath his feet.
The engravings pulsed to life, glowing with a brilliant white-blue radiance. Ethereal particles lifted into the air as the intricate lines filled with energy.
Then, in an instant, the spell activated. A sharp force propelled Riniock upward, launching him towards the platform above. His stomach twisted from the sudden ascent, but he fought the urge to retch.
'Are you alright?' one of them called from below.
Riniock steadied himself, scanning his surroundings before answering. There were no immediate threats in sight.
'I'm fine. Come on up.'
One after the other, Niann and Siegmun followed suit, propelled by the spell's force and landing beside Riniock. Their faces mirrored his – strained from the unsettling motion – but they composed themselves quickly, standing upright and preparing to move forward.
'This floor is more spacious,' the leader remarked, surveying the open area.
The floor was divided into four sections, one in each cardinal direction, though only three seemed worth investigating. The trio gravitated towards the least demanding section – a desk positioned near a set of railings that overlooked the hole leading down to the propulsion spell circle.
Like everything else in the tower, the desk was carved from stone. A matching chair sat before it, occupied by a hunched skeletal figure, its bones brittle with age. The tattered remnants of ancient clothing still clung to its frame.
The moment they laid eyes on the remains, the same thought struck them all.
'Halfling!' they exclaimed in near-perfect unison.
The skeleton's diminutive stature ruled out the average mortal man, confirming it belonged to one of the smaller races – something along the lines of a goren. A closer examination, however, suggested otherwise.
'A kaerod?' Niann speculated, narrowing his eyes at the bones. 'Or maybe a flennhod…too hard to tell just from this. If only Professor Hekat were here – anatomy isn't exactly my strong suit.'
Whilst Niann studied the remains, Riniock's attention was drawn elsewhere.
'What did you find?' Siegmun asked, noticing his interest.
Riniock held up a worn, dust-covered book. 'A journal…or maybe a diary. Likely belonged to our skeletal friend here.'
A gust of dust scattered into the air as Riniock blew across the book's cover, revealing a name inscribed beneath the grime.
'His name is Ladthrar,' Riniock read aloud, flipping to the first page. 'Finally, our prayers have been answered. Thank Besledrias. With the reluctant yet granted blessing of the MCoS –'
Siegmun cut in. 'MCoS? What is that?'
Riniock shrugged, just as clueless. Niann, meanwhile, had drifted away, busy searching through the other sections whilst the two remained engrossed in the diary.
'We have at last entered the premises. Kainor, Tharin, Ig'ada, and I were welcomed by the cult. Their hospitality was…suspicious, given their devotion to Neohk. Yet, since they showed no overt hostility, we ignored it and ventured deeper into the tunnels branching from their headquarters. Eventually, the four of us established ourselves in a tower we constructed through our combined magick. We named it K'zarg, just as our forebears did when they first descended into the depths and darkness of the earth…'
Riniock read on, whilst Siegmun listened intently. The names offered no real clues regarding the identity of the skeletal remains, but one thing was evident – this took place whilst the cult was still active.
'Neohk…' they both muttered, the name familiar yet buried in the recesses of their minds.
Meanwhile, Niann had wandered further from them, scouring the section to the right of the stone desk, deep in his search.
The section contained four stone beds, their rigid forms betraying any sense of comfort. Along the walls, stone shelves stood draped in dust and cobwebs, their surfaces littered with tattered clothes and decayed remnants of belongings.
Three skeletal figures lay motionless on the beds, leaving one space eerily vacant. Each bore signs of violent death – one with a stab wound in the chest, another with its skull shattered, and the last with a head separated from its ribcage. Yet, a single detail united them: they had all died unaware, caught in their sleep.
'That must be Kainor, Tharin, and Ig'ada…how dreadful,' Niann murmured under his breath.
A chest in the corner caught his eye, but when he pried it open, he found only a pile of brittle, weathered paper resting at the bottom.
'Nothing here…'
Satisfied with his search, Niann moved on to the next section, located directly opposite the desk, separated by the gaping hole in the centre of the floor.
This area was filled with an assortment of workstations – alchemy sets, enchantment tools, a crafting station, and an inscription table. It was unmistakably the lair of a maegi – or in this case, four maegis.
He swept his gaze over the equipment, pocketing a few meagre valuables as he passed.
Then, something unusual caught his eye.
'What's this?' he muttered, stepping closer to a stone bookcase at the back of the section. Hidden behind it was a reinforced door, securely barred and locked.
Slumped against the wall before it was a corpse, astonishingly well-preserved despite its decay. One of its hands was missing, and its remaining flesh bore deep bite wounds, as if something had feasted upon it.
Clutched tightly in its remaining fingers was a key of solargold – its lustre undiminished by time. The shape suggested a perfect fit for the lock sealing the door.
With a quiet breath, Niann pried the key free from the corpse's stiffened grasp and slid it into the keyhole. A twist, a click – the lock snapped open, and the chains unravelled, falling away with a heavy clatter.
The door groaned as it swung ajar, revealing a gruesome sight.
The room beyond was littered with corpses – dozens of them – piled across the floor, their bodies marred by the same kind of wounds as the corpse outside.
But unlike the four skeletal remains scattered throughout the tower, these were different. Their flesh, though rotting, still clung to their bones. Their garments, though tattered, remained mostly intact.
And more disturbingly, they were not halflings. Some stood just as tall as Niann – perhaps even taller.
Cautiously, he stepped inside, scanning the room for anything of worth.
'We've been down here for a whole year… I think,' Riniock continued, his voice echoing through the vast chamber of K'zarg's floor. 'Kainor and Ig'ada have already explored all the nearby corridors. Tharin and I, on the other hand, have had little to no success with our research. I fear this divide in our duties will become apparent the next time we meet.
'We managed to capture one of those shape-changing creatures – the ones that disguise themselves as inanimate objects, luring unsuspecting victims before devouring them. Ig'ada sealed it inside a room at the far end of the northern section. We've been dosing it with anaesthetics to keep it docile. I hope we'll be able to study it further.'
Riniock skimmed through a few pages filled with mundane details – Ladthrar's routines, scattered thoughts, and passing reflections.
'Interesting,' Siegmun mused as he rummaged through the desk and its surroundings. 'Maegis from an age long past…and yet, we haven't changed. Research and knowledge still push us into adventure – and into danger.'
'Listen to this,' Riniock interrupted, his voice suddenly serious.
Siegmun took note of the shift in tone and stepped around to read over his shoulder.
'Tharin has noticed cult members loitering outside K'zarg these past few days. To ease Kainor's mind, we carved protective sigils on the tower, meant to ward off intruders. But I have a feeling…an ominous premonition I can't explain. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. Still, those cultists are bad news.'
Riniock turned another page, but this time, Siegmun read ahead.
'DON'T OPEN THE DOOR –'
A chill ran down both their spines.
Their gazes darted to the skeleton slumped over the desk. A gaping hole pierced through its ribcage – a fatal wound delivered from behind. Whoever killed Ladthrar had struck mid-sentence.
Realisation dawned on them at the same time.
'Where's Niann?'