Kier’s ears rang with a violently high pitched drone. As his eyelids fought to part, allowing in what little light could be perceived, he could feel his body shifting ever so lightly. His senses slowly returning, he realized he was laying flat on his back. Golden plantlife crept around his body, small blades of gilded grass rising barely above him. His hands grasped the bright yellow needles softly, feeling some turn to good dust in his grip. Next to his head, he spotted a familiar flower. Golden pedals. Blue center. Red pistils. The flower was very fragrant, like a strong, expensive perfume. As he drew in a breath, he felt his leg being raised, knee bent up towards his chest, and then being set back down. Then the other leg, the same way.

His head raised to inspect the movement, eye still blurry from his unconscious state. At first, the sight in front of him sent chills down his spine. The woman. She was right there. She was holding his leg. She was touching him. She was real, and very much alive. The fleeting moment of terror quickly resided as his vision cleared.

It was a different woman. Her dirty blonde hair was short and fluffy, a few shades darker than his but much more well kept. She had a mature face, Kier figured a bit older than him, in her mid 30’s or so. Her deep green eyes were piercing and had dark rings under them, as if she hadn't slept well in ages. Her attire was reminiscent of a Green Cleric’s robes, though they had been heavily modified and worn. The top section was cut to expose her toned, pale midriff. The dress had been torn at the center and re-hemmed to resemble martial arts pants, form fitting around the hip but loose at the thigh and calf. She was barefoot and wore no gloves; which struck Kier as odd. Green Cleric's typically work in close proximity with the sick and dying, and take care to cover themselves - especially their extremities.

As Kier looked the woman over, her eyes moved up from his legs, locking with him for a silent moment. She opened her mouth to speak, but cut herself short, a puzzled look growing on her face.

“...what are you doing?” When Kier finally broke the silence his voice was hoarse. It felt like he was talking with sand in his lungs.

“Moving your legs, building up blood flow so the antidote works through you faster.” Her voice was sultry and smooth, she spoke with an authority that demanded the attention of something inside Kier (a feeling that made him uncomfortable).

She moved her hand back to the other leg and grabbed his ankle, raising it up and pushing his knee to his chest. His head moved to the side. They were close to a wall and his belongings - his sword and buckler as well as his torch and bag - rested against the stone, seemingly undisturbed. He looked to his left hand. It was bandaged rather expertly, only a small red blotch stained the white cloth over his wrist. Despite the stinging pain, it felt far less serious a wound than he had anticipated in his last fleeting moments of consciousness.

“You got bit, pretty good too.” She said as she set his leg down, slowly moving her way across the garden plot, closer to his line of sight. “Keep your head back for a few more minutes. I wanna make sure the antidote has a good distribution. Don't know how much time the poison had to creep before I found you. Looks like it never made it to your brain though, on accounts of you moving your head like that.” She leaned in closer and put a finger on his right cheekbone, pulling down slightly to inspect his blurry eye. “This is from a previous injury?”

“...yes.” Kier responded, moisture finally returning to his arid throat.

“Hm. Whatever got your eye did it clean, no scarring on the skin around it.” She quipped, moving her hand from his face.

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because…you…needed help?” She looked down at him with a cocked head, strands of hair falling in her face slightly. She adjusted them out of the way as she continued. “Odd question. Also, a weird way to say ‘thanks for saving my life’, but I'll take it. You're welcome, kid.”

“I'm not a kid.” He snipped, planting an arm down and propping himself upright. She leaned back, eyes slightly wider.

“Apparently so. Antidote works quick, but you shouldn't be able to move that well. Not right now, anyways. If it feels like your blood is boiling or your eyes are going to pop out, please lay back down.”

“I'm fine.” He took a deep breath, holding it for a moment to center himself, before exhaling. “Thank you for your help, but you should've left me.”

“Left you to what? Die there? Get eaten by the sirens? Turned into some sort of monster? No thanks, too many abominations make it out of this tower.”

“That's a fairytale made to keep people away.” Kier spat at the ground, trying to rid himself of the bitter taste lingering, likely from whatever “antidote” she gave him.

“Right,” she rolled her eyes. “If you don't believe in fairytales, why are you here to change your past?”

There was a tangible silence between them. Kier stared, with his good eye, into the jade orbs of the woman. He tried to read her casual body language, hoping to gain any insight into her intentions before speaking. Yet he could sense no malice, no anger, none of the feelings he was used to confronting in these tense situations. The woman seemed earnest…concerned, even. Her disapproving glare, her lips slightly tugged down at the corners, it all confused Kier.

“Everyone comes for the same thing.” The woman’s tone was exasperated. She threw her hands up to accentuate as she spoke. “You made a mistake, or you missed an opportunity, or someone hurt you, and you're here to ‘make it right’ or whatever. It isn't worth it. It isn't worth your life, it isn't worth the lives you endanger coming here, it isn't worth anything. There's nothing in here but death and decay. This is a monument to nothing but man’s never-faltering need to prove themselves fucking fools.”

“You don't know why I'm here.” Kier slowly rose to his feet, moving curly blonde locks from his face. “You don't know what I'm here to change. Or what I'm willing to do to change it.”

“No, but I have a damn good idea.” She stood off the wall, stepping closer to him. Though she stood half a head shorter than him Kier noticed her build was more solid compared to his stringy physique. Where he was lanky with functional, lean muscle, it was clear standing closer to her that this woman was slightly more defined in musculature, still retaining femininity while toting an intimidating silhouette.

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“You're probably willing to sacrifice a lot.” She continued, now less than a forearm’s length from his face. The compassion and concern in her face was replaced with a sourness, as if Kier had scorned her deeply. “You're probably not only willing to die, you're willing to sacrifice others too. You may even be willing to endure endless amounts of torment and anguish and pain. I don't care. Everything you’ll do here is for fucking. Nothing. You would sacrifice yourself, things you love, people you care about, for nothing. Anything you would be willing to give this place, it will take from you. And you'll get fuck all in return.

“Go home kid. Stop wasting your time. Whatever you did, however bad you fucked up your life, live with it. Live with your mistakes and accept whatever consequences come. If you just go back and change things, you didn't learn anything.”

“There's nothing to learn.” He responded. Her words danced in his head, but he had made up his mind before he began his journey. He made it here now, and he wasn't turning back. “There's nowhere for me to go. I'm not going to sacrifice anything but myself. If I die here then so be it; I tried. But I can't give up. I have to try.”

“Then just kill yourself.” She said, her expression unchanging. The words struck Kier and before he could respond, her voice raised. “Just. Kill. Yourself. Because that's what you'll be doing here. If dying is enough satisfaction for you, if that fixes your mistake, then fall on that sword of yours and die. Right here.”

“Coward’s way out.” He spat, leaning in. He was not going to be intimidated by her. “That proves nothing but guilt and regret. It fixes nothing. If I can change my past, I can save a life worth saving. And if I die trying, I die better than I lived. You're not taking that from me. No one is taking that from me.”

The silence was palpable once again. His last words hung in the air between them. The woman's breathing had picked up a bit. He watched the rise and fall of her chest hasten. Something he said struck her. Upset her more than before. But her expression confused him. A small smile crept the corners of her mouth. Was she…challenging him? Was she deriving a thrill from their debate? Or was it something deeper? Did he answer her “question” correctly, said what she was anticipating he'd say?

She answered before he could draw his own conclusion. “You remind me of an old friend…someone else determined to climb this shameful spire, no matter what.” The woman’s eyes betrayed her, wandering away from their intense battle with Kier’s gaze. She was traveling through memories, briefly lost in thought, before her eyes snapped to lock with him once more, as if reality had grounded her forcibly. “She was a good person. Are you?”

“No.” He responded immediately. “No such thing as good people.”

“Well, aren't you an optimist.”

“Optimists are idiots.” He rolled his eyes. “People can do good things. But deep down, we’re all the same. Looking to get an edge over everyone else, satisfying our own desires before thinking about another person.”

“...yeah, that's something she would say.” The woman chuckled. “Right before she helped a rabbit with a broken foot, or gave food to a beggar.” Again, a drastic shift in the woman’s posturing. She seemed to relax, her breathing steady again, the same soft smile she greeted him with returning to her face, full of curiosity. “So tell me; what are you here to change?”

“That's my business.” He said coldly. “Thank you for helping me. I'm going to continue now.” He stepped past her and began to grab his equipment.

“...let me help, then.” She said, stepping closer to him.

“I don't need-” he cut himself short. “I don't want help.”

“Mm…” she hummed, pondering for a moment. “Look. I've seen all sorts come through here. Groups, couples, individuals. Some prepped like they're going to war, some with a death wish. But you're different.”

The last statement stopped Kier. He felt a warm sensation in his chest that spread down to his stomach. An uncomfortable, sinking feeling from her praise that dropped below his gut and rested above his loins. He ignored the feeling but turned his attention to her. “What do you mean?”

“If you can't tell, I was once a Cleric.” She gestured to her faded viridian cloak and altered robes. “I can sense the magic deep within people. That's how we heal, drawing on natural remedies and the innate magic in every being to-”

“Skip to the part about why you changed your mind so suddenly.”

“...Rude.” she chuckled, feigning offense with a hand on her chest. “Alright. I can tell a lot about people by examining their aura, their innate magic. You don't look like a mage, but your presence has slowly become dominating as you recover. Even when you were unconscious, looking at your aura reminded me of a monster.”

“...is that supposed to be a compliment?” He raised an eyebrow.

“It could be. It's an observation. I had to check you for additional bites, and you look decently well trained. You're deceptively strong, for a stringbean. That's a compliment.” She winked. That same feeling stirred inside Kier, he felt his cheeks flush with frustration.

“And I'm not talking about physical power, per se.” She continued. “Haven't seen you fight but I can tell your confidence isn't unearned. You seem sharp. But,” she poked his chest. “all the scarring tells me you're reckless. And a little under-prepared. I've made it to the 6th floor myself, I'm sure together we’d make it farther.”

“I thought you said there isn't anything at the top? What business do you have up there?” He slipped his sword belt on, securing the hilt by his hip.

“That friend you remind me of? She died somewhere above the 10th floor. No one's ever made it that far and come back. I wanna find her necklace.”

“...and once you find it?” Kier crossed his arms.

“Well…I'd take it back home…and bury it.” Her voice now solemn, nearly a whisper. “Even if it's just the necklace. Just...She deserves rest.”

“...and if she's turned into one of those monsters you mentioned?”

The look the woman gave him was full of sorrow, remorse…guilt. It wordlessly answered his question. She had already killed the monstrosity that was once her friend. The necklace must not have been on her person. This woman was holding out for the hope to find the last scrap of humanity belonging to her friend.

“She just wants to use you!” The Crow called from behind him. His eye shot back for a moment, but he steeled himself against the jeering bird, staying focused ahead. “She’s going to leave you for dead! Rob you in your sleep! Slit your throat from behind! Kier the fool! Kier the gullible!”

“...Fine.” Kier said, looking away from the woman. “Come with me. Until you find what you're looking for. Then we part ways.”

“Deal.” She said, offering a hand out. “But if you're serious about this, we are committing. I'm not turning around without her necklace. And I expect, at minimum, the same from you.”

“I'm going to the top.” He said, taking her hand.

Her skin was soft and warm, contrasting his calloused grip. Her grasp caused that same stir inside him. However, it felt less uncomfortable as he held her hand for the moment. They shook and as the hands parted, the feeling rose for a brief moment. Kier felt as if he didn't want to let go, even if for just a moment longer. Something about her touch felt comforting, almost familiar and nostalgic. Kier nearly laughed at the thought. He had no warm touch to be nostalgic for, no sympathetic figure to reminisce over…so what was this feeling?

“I'm Orwyn, by the way.” She broke his distraction.

“Kier.” He responded.

“Would've mentioned it earlier, but I wanted to be sure.”

“Be sure of…?” his head slightly tilted.

“You. Sure that you'd actually commit.”

“...you wanted me to stand up to you. To make sure I was committed enough to go?” he asked, trying to confirm his earlier suspicions.

“No, I still think you should leave. But if you're going, I'm coming along. You have a chance to make it farther. And if nothing else, I’d like to see it. Lots of people say they come here with nothing to lose, but I don't buy it. You, though…you aren't bluffing, are you? You really have nothing to lose, or you feel that way anyways.”

Her analysis, however astute, somewhat disturbed him (though he would do his best to seem indifferent). He was usually the one picking apart a mark. Being on the receiving end induced mild anxiety within him. He quickly diverted his thoughts to a more pertinent question; “How far away are the stairs?”

“About a 10 minute walk.” She responded, nodding towards the darkness ahead of them. “But first, let's talk about the second floor.”