The Spire

The tower looms overhead, and you feel drawn to it as a moth is to a flame.

Almost unconsciously, you begin walking towards the enormous structure, gazing up at it. You notice that there appears to be only one safe path up to the fortifications: a winding path about fifteen feet wide, marked on either side at its beginning by statues of hooded warriors. The dusty path is still pounded flat, as though it were an active thoroughfare despite having likely been unused for decades, if not longer.

At each bend where the path reverses, there is a sort of… shrine? At least, it appears to be something resembling a shrine. The figure standing where an idol might be is so worn away as to be unrecognizable to you, but it clearly represents someone of importance to whoever built the tower.

As you continue your journey along the winding road, you occasionally look out at the sea, and each time the sun has fallen lower in the sky, and the clouds are burning a more brilliant gold.

Finally, you reach the gate. It is a vast door, and you imagine it might be impenetrable if properly closed and guarded. However, it is open, and no one is here. The walls of the fortress loom to either side, and the gatehouse stands tall and proud even if its gate lies open and its torches stand unlit.

As you enter the fortress proper, you realize that a significant part of the courtyard is dedicated solely to providing room for entry into the tower, which is even larger than you first estimated. It tapers as it rises, but the base is easily half of the fortress’ area, with the rest either being the courtyard or one of a few small auxiliary structures that press up against the walls. You can make out a stable and what appears to be a small guardhouse, but the other three appear too general to be intended for a specific use.

The tower’s own gate is similarly opened wide, as though the place was abandoned and never reinhabited.

Briefly, you feel as though you’re being watched, but when you turn, you only see the flash of a golden eye atop the wall before it disappears.

“Probably an animal….” You mutter, as you have grown used to doing. You’ve been here almost two months, and you don’t know if that’s a long time comparatively, but you feel as though the lack of social contact is getting to you anyway. You sometimes catch yourself talking to yourself as though someone else is beside you; usually one of your comrades from the expedition, or an acquaintance from Haleve. But sometimes you are talking to Siria, and sometimes you’re just talking to yourself, no middleman involved.

Shaking off the momentary observer, you look back into the tower. Stepping into the threshold, you find that the entryway leads into a great hall, flanked on the sides by great columns. Your first step onto the great tiles of the floor echoes, however faintly, into the vastness of the arched ceiling and the shadowed arcades.

Walking down the grand hall, you feel as though you are being surrounded by something ageless and immortal; like the weight of eons is bearing down behind you and the very structure is judging you with eyes that have seen the passage of centuries.

Ahead, you see a stairwell spiraling behind the next great archway. The call you feel, drawing you inexorably onward, leads you down. Swallowing back your apprehension, you heed it.

The darkness is almost absolute as you descend into the depths. The spiraling stair seems almost endless, and the light from outside is long gone. But below, you see something faint. Something almost ethereal.

Eventually, you reach the bottom. A new archway leads into another hall, and you see a raised altar atop a dais at its center. Your eyes widen as you see what stands stop the altar.