“Threaten my life?" I ask incredulously. "That sounds like a terrible idea."

Shylvanna chuckles a bit. Her laugh is a little grating as it lacks the refinement of Luna’s courtly giggles.

“I just want to make you a little afraid.”

“Hmm,” I say suspiciously. “That sounds more like dark magic to me.”

“Everyone experiences fear, Ethan. The question is how you deal with it. Do you let it drive you toward darkness? Or do you channel it, change it, redeem it even. Goblin magic is perfect for that. Instead of lashing out with darkness you defend and block. Preventing the attacks from breaking in. Theres a reason there are no skeletons here.”

I look around. I should have noticed this earlier. In fact, there are no signs of conflict at all. The whole tower feels preserved.

“The goblins were destroyed in the field. They never would have been defeated here. Even if they lost their magic. There was too much light running through these walls.”

I squint at the ghost. “In the walls?”

“Isn’t it amazing how the goblins carved this tower out of the mountain? How is such a thing even possible? Maybe it’s not…”

I look around me. “Ugh, it’s here. So it has to be possible.”

The ghost raises one of her vapory brows. “Does it?”

Forget fear. Now I’m just getting annoyed. I walk to the right wall, just to make sure I’m not being tricked somehow: that the wall really is the wall. When I rest my hand against it the wall it feels solid enough, though there is something just a little strange –

The shriek startles me. I spin and damn near wet myself as a demon bears down on me. Much worse than my spirit she has black eyes with red vessels pulsating from them. Her hair is so bright it looks like it’s on fire. She lounges with her hand I block instinctively throwing my forearm up to deflect.

And then. Nothing.

I lower my forearm and see Shylvanna standing before me. A little brighter than normal. The hair a little more orange. But otherwise normal.

“What?” I gasp. “Was that?”

“That was me. Or how I looked in the end. After misusing my magic and twisting my light to serve evil purposes.”

“That’s horrible,” I say. “Even worse than -” I break-off, not certain I should continue.

“Worse than a demons,” says Shylvanna. “Yes, I know. There is something disgusting when good falls hard. I had come very close to the top of the mountain and then fell so fast and so quickly. It was like when my magic became warped it warped me as well.”

“Is that still a part of you?” I ask cautiously. “That…fall.”

Shylvanna’s lip twists downward. “Yes, it is. Though not forever. Or that’s what I’m told anyway.”

“Maybe that’s part of your penance,” I suggest. “You’re burning away that part of yourself.”

“Let’s hope so,” she mutters, her face distant for a moment before it snaps back to the present. “At least it worked.”

“At least what worked?” I ask.

“Look at your forearm.”

I glance down and jump back as it is encrusted in stone to my elbow.

“Told you it worked,” says the elf-ghost happily.

“My arm! My arm! What happened to my arm?”

Shylvanna laughs, her orange bouncing around her kinetically. I get the impression Shylvanna was a bit of a wild elf back in the day. Brimming with energy.

“Just what I told you would. The brown light hardened. The goblin magic lives within you.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” I insist.

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Shylvanna points to the wall. “Look at your other hand.”

The other hand is still touching the rock wall. Or is it rock after all? The area around my hand is shimmering, flickering even, as its waves run up and down my fingers.

“What? What is that?” I ask.

Shylvanna grins. “I think you already know.”

“This whole tower,” I start to say (I can hardly believe I’m suggesting it). “This whole tower is made of light magic?”

“Hardened brown light, yes,” says Shylvanna. “Hewn and reinforced by goblin mages for generations. Do much light that even after they left, their work survived.”

I gawk around me. “That’s incredible.”

“It is. It was almost too great as the goblins became infatuated with their own accomplishment. As we all did back then I suppose.”

“But my forearm?”

“As I said,” continues Shylvann. “You can channel the spectrum. All the colors can run through you. When you were in danger you pulled from the wall. You channeled the light.”

I look from the wall and to my hand.

“Take your time,” says Shyvanna. “Pull the brown light into you. The light of the elves is joyful and exuberant. It explodes out of you. Goblin magic is different. The greatest goblin makes never lost an once of their brown. They would pull it back inside, digest it, recycle it to be used again.”

I focus on my arm, and slowly the brown stone erodes and crumbles. But it does not fall onto the floor, it slides onto me and disappears under my skin. Inside I feel different. The brown light is heavier, warmer than the bright elven rays. It sits differently within me and I feel more grounded, more connected to the world around me.

“Now try to manifest it,” says Shylvanna excitedly. She’s seems even more pumped about this than me.

She is definitely not a chill goblin mage.

I reach within and find my light. At first it’s just the rays though. The brilliant elven spectrum first forth. The brown takes a while longer. It has to coaxed and lured out of its hiding place, like it would rather just order a pizza and play video games.

A sentiment I can very much relate to.

But when I do, when I manage to get a hold of that light it doesn’t explode or burst forth like an elven arrow. No, it flows through my body and creates a layer of stone across both my arms.

The elf leaps. “You did it. You did it. Fantastic.”

I smile. “Ok, ok, settle down.”

Shylvanna laughs and her voice goes deep, mimicking mine. “Settle down little elf. I am a goblin mage. We are tough; we are serious; we are deliberate.”

I laugh. “I’m no goblin.”

“Of course not,” Shylvanna says. “But you have their sentiment. And I love it.” She sighs. “How I miss the way things used to be.”

A common sentiment expressed by just about everyone and everything in history.

“Well,” I offer. “Maybe if I win it will be like that again.”

Shylvanna smiles. It’s such a sad smile though. “I doubt it, Ethan. In my experience you can never go back. But maybe the future can take the good things about the past and make them shine in some new way. Some way that’s even brighter and more glorious than the best of the past.”

“Or I can make them very steady and serious.”

Shylvanna tosses her hair back and her golden elven features shine like the sun. For a moment she is so glorious she almost looks solid. I reach out, just to be sure, but my hand passes through her.

The glow fades and Shylvanna sighs. “No, Ethan, I’m afraid that my bodily days in this world are done. At least until the end of all things. Then…we shall see.”

Her body starts to shimmer, like her form is starting to dissipate.

“Wait,” I say. “Are you leaving? I still have more questions.”

Shylvanna looks-up, like she is staring at something beyond the mountaintop. Something I cannot see.

“My time is waning I ‘m afraid, Ethan. As I told you, I come in and out of this world. It wouldn’t be fair for me to stay. Some things are better learnt on your own.”

“I disagree.”

Shylvanna crosses her arms in mock-seriousness. “Now you be good while I’m gone.”

“You make a poor goblin,” I realtor.

“Good. I don’t like the color green.”

“So will I see you again then?”

Sylvanna uncrosses her arms. “Of course. There are still two towers left. Assuming you survive of course.”

Oh gee. Thanks for that.

“How do I do more with my new light?”

She’s almost completely faded now. “Be good. And be a goblin.”

Then she’s gone. I’m alone. In the dark.

Sigh.

It’s a lot less exciting exiting the tower than it is entering it. TThe walk is lonely though it does give me a chance to practice my new power. I find I can use both parts of the light spectrum at the same time. So I can shine a bright light as well as cover my arm stone for example. I try to push the stone harder, make it expand, but it doesn't respond well. Elven light responds to my urgency, but to grown the stone my actions have to be calmed, and disciplined.

It’s a bit of a challenge holding both perspectives inside me simultaneously and it may take a while for everything to mesh together. Not to mention the darkness which still lingers among both brown and white light. The hostile neighbor.

And it turns out that darkness is not the only thing angry at me. As I exit the tower I encounter one very angry angel.