Dumdum tightened the reins around his pony's neck, every muscle in his body aching, every joint on the cusp of rebellion. His mount's breathing mirrored his own—ragged and weary. Both goblin and pony were battered from relentless days of pursuit.

"Easy, pony, easy," Dumdum whispered, patting the pony's mane. "We're near the end, I promise you that... I think."

It was true. For the first time in days, the walking tower had ceased its incomprehensible motion. Erect in its newfound stillness, it sat like an obelisk, reaching heavenward in the barren wastelands of Gravenwatch.

Dumdum squinted through his chapped, windburned eyelids. "What do you think? A riddle, isn't it?" he mumbled to his pony, but of course, the creature had no answer.

The term 'far' was an understatement for how far removed they were from their intended destination of Ravendrift. Dumdum felt a strange tug, almost a clawing sensation, at the back of his skull. It beckoned him to the tower. Was it destiny or just fatigue? The line was blurry, like the edge of a mirage wavering in the cold. Was he chasing his fate or simply a ghost—a wild goose in the guise of stone and mystery?

He sighed. "What's a tower doing wandering the earth anyhow? Towers should be silent. Quiet. Not—"

Dumdum was cut off by his own thoughts. Quiet? The tower was now precisely that. It stood still, betraying no secrets. Its enormity defied imagination, scraping the sky in a manner that made counting its floors an exercise in futility.

"Time to see if you're worth all this, eh?" He dug his heels lightly into the pony's flanks, urging the creature to summon what little strength remained. "Run, love. Let's catch this tower before it decides to sprout legs and tear off across the face of this cursed land."

The pony neighed softly, almost in agreement, and accelerated. Dirt and frozen gravel flew from their hooves as they made their way across the wasteland.

Dumdum felt the chill air fill his lungs as they closed the distance. A reckoning, or perhaps a revelation, awaited him. Regardless of what the tower held—answers or illusions—he knew that they had crossed the point of no return.

The pony huffed, its nostrils flaring as they picked up speed, hooves pounding the frozen earth. Dumdum's eyes remained fixed on the tower. It stood tall and motionless, almost mocking in its serenity.

"You better not sprout legs and run, you hunk of stones," he growled under his breath as they closed the distance, "We have undead to cast away!"

His eyes scanned its face, looking for an entrance, a sign, anything. The tower seemed as impenetrable as it was mysterious. But Dumdum couldn't shake the nagging feeling, the insidious itch in his mind, that told him this behemoth of a structure was more than just bricks and mortar. It was as if the tower itself were a knot in a sprawling web of nasty fate, and Dumdum had just pulled a thread.

As he drew nearer, the sense of finality grew stronger, almost palpable in the bitter air. Dumdum glanced down at his pony, its sides heaving with exertion.

"This is it," he said softly, as much to himself as to the animal beneath him.

Finally, they stood before it. Dumdum dismounted, his boots crunching on the frozen earth. He approached the looming structure, every step weighed down by exhaustion.

He reached out and placed a trembling hand on the cold stone of the tower's entrance. The itch in the back of his skull intensified, now a piercing tug.

"Alright," he whispered, steeling himself for what lay ahead. "Let's see what you're hiding, you stone-faced mystery."

Taking a deep breath, Dumdum pushed open the massive door, which creaked a reluctant welcome. He stepped inside, swallowed whole by the shadowy depths of the enigmatic tower. As the door closed behind him, the itch in his skull faded to a faint echo.

Dumdum's worn boots echoed on the stone floor as he ventured further into the tower. His experience in the grand halls of castles, ornate chambers of palaces, and magical sanctuaries of wizards had led him to expect opulence or perhaps arcane mystery. But nothing could have prepared him for what he found.

The interior of the tower was like the night sky turned inward, lined with an array of shelves holding thousands upon thousands of jars. Each jar emanated a soft, pulsing glow, their collective luminescence projecting an ethereal tapestry of light onto the tower's stone walls. It was as if he had stumbled into a cathedral of captured stars, each jar a sermon in celestial wonder.

"In all my days... dear Atua..." Dumdum muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the spectacle. "Ain't never seen nothing like this."

Stretching endlessly upward, the interior walls of the tower were lined with meticulously crafted shelves, each holding jars that glowed with an inner light. Countless jars—each one pulsating with a luminescence that was, inexplicably, stronger than the one beside it.

The illumination filled the tower with hues he'd never seen, and the air seemed to hum softly with the contained energy.

Cautiously, he approached one of the shelves and extended a trembling hand towards a jar glowing with a gentle blue light. The itch at the back of his skull, which had guided him this far, returned as a quiver of anticipation.

"Atua, what are…?" Dumdum whispered to himself, his eyes darting around the tower, half-expecting some guardian to leap out and scold him. But no voice answered besides whispers, and the tower stood as quiet and inscrutable as ever.

Emboldened, he finally touched the jar. It was cool to the touch but seemed to vibrate softly under his fingertips as though acknowledging him. The blue light flickered momentarily, like a star winking in the night sky, before resuming its steady glow.

Dumdum stepped back, his chest tightening with emotion. The little goblin was overwhelmed by pure, blissed happiness.

His gaze swept over the countless jars once more, a vista of contained brilliance that transcended any treasure or magic he'd ever seen. At that moment, Dumdum knew that whatever quest or errand had led him to this forsaken wasteland, to this wonderful tower, was intrinsically bound to these jars of light.

Elation swelled within Dumdum like a roaring tide, sweeping away years of servitude and hardship. For the first time in his life, he felt an unbridled joy that he couldn't contain. He wanted to shout it to the heavens, dance with the jars, and sing praises to the mysterious forces that had guided him here.

With laughter bubbling up from the depths of his soul, he began to race up the tower's spiral staircase, taking the steps two at a time. His eyes were alight with a fervour that mirrored the radiant jars around him. He moved higher and higher, propelled by an almost magnetic pull.

The jars whispered to him as he ascended, their luminescence painting the stairwell in a cascade of vibrant hues. At first, the sounds were like indistinct murmurs, mere echoes in a cavernous space. But as he ran, attuned to the symphony of light and sound around him, the whispers grew clearer.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Then, suddenly, he heard it—a distinct conversation, as if captured within one of the glowing jars.

"I made dinner!" said a male voice.

"Mmm... it's really good!" another voice responded, lighter.

"Is it not salty?"

"It's perfect, Baal. Thank you, I'm really hungry."

"So because I don't yet have a table, it will be a picnic in the kitchen with plastic dishes. What do you say?"

"I love you!"

Dumdum slowed his pace, stunned. The voices sounded so real, so vivid as if the people were right there with him. The intimacy of the conversation left him feeling like an intruder in a private moment. But more than that, it sparked an unquenchable curiosity. Were these memories? Echoes of a past life? Or something entirely different?

His hands trembled as he approached the jar from which the voices seemed to emanate. The light within it pulsed in a soothing rhythm, almost as if it were breathing. As he touched the jar, the voices faded, leaving behind a lingering sense of warmth and… happiness.

"What are you? What is this place?" Dumdum whispered to the jar, a quiver of awe in his voice.

As Dumdum resumed his climb, his thoughts clung to the whispers—Baal and Nord, two names etched into his consciousness as if they had always been there. It was odd, feeling like he knew these people like he had peered into the most intimate moments of their lives. Yet, he knew there was a gap, an incomplete narrative.

His feet continued to pound against the stairs, each step resonating in time with his quickening heartbeat. The jars alongside him seemed to react to his emotional state, their lights dancing more frantically, their whispers blending into an urgent cacophony.

Finally, he reached another jar that called to him, its light distinctive among the myriad of glowing containers. It pulsed like a slow heartbeat, beckoning him to touch it and unravel its secrets.

Dumdum hesitated, his fingers hovering over the glass. The last experience had been so vivid, so emotionally loaded, that he found himself bracing for whatever would come next. With a deep, steadying breath, he touched the jar.

A wash of emotion surged through him, so potent it was almost physical. He heard a voice, and he recognized it as Baal's—broken, unlike the previous, cheerful tone.

The keys turned in the lock, granting Nord's nose entry into a world of enticing aromas—sweet spices mingling with the savoury scent of roasted cheese. The flat was a sensory whirlwind, pulsating to the melancholic rhythm of Bossanova melodies that filled the air. With cautious steps, Nord crossed the threshold, greeted by a sight of cluttered packed cupboards with empty jars and bulging plastic bags, which had bore witness to a decade's worth of shared existence.

"Baby, I'm home!" Nord's voice carried a playful edge as she called out, a grin on her lips. "Are you cooking?"

Silence hung for a moment, only to be broken by his presence materializing around the stove. A tall young man with vivid red hair tied in a half-messy ponytail. He stood there, absorbed in the alchemy of flavours as he stirred the bubbling bolognese, a taste of spaghetti on his lips. But as he caught sight of her, his face broke into a warm smile, a glass of wine extended in the offering. "Here! How was your day?"

A playful query arose, an eyebrow arched in curiosity. "Did you unpack all our pots for this?"

His response was delivered with an air of conviction. "Well, how else would I cook?"

"Babe, seriously? I told you to order in! This will be double work!"

A sheepish grin tugged at his lips, black demon eyes sparkling with pride and a confident shrug. "And I wanted tonight to be special." His lips met hers, a fleeting kiss that tasted of shared histories and provincial herbs. A subtle sway, two steps of an impromptu dance, followed. "After all, it's not every day you get dumped."

She chuckled a melodic sound that danced through the room. "You're such a drama queen."

"Let's make every moment count till the very last, please," he countered, his gaze locked on the simmering sauce before him.

"Wait, so tonight, am I dining with Gordon Ramsay?"

A mock gasp followed by a playful correction. "Fabio Viviani!"

A brow quirked in mild confusion. "Who?"

An exaggerated expression of disbelief crossed his face. "You've got to be kidding me! How dare you! You don't know Fabio Viviani? Haven't I taught you anything, warlock?" He brought a spoonful of bolognese to her lips, inviting her into the experience of flavours.

Her response was marked by an appreciative hum, her lips wiped clean before reclaiming her wineglass. Taking her seat at the meticulously arranged table, she posed a question that hung in the air like a plague. "So, when are we doing it?"

His attention shifted from his culinary creation to her, a moment of shared intimacy that transcended mere words. "After dinner?"

"Babe?"

A chuckle laced with tenderness. "You know, it's really hard to be resolute about breaking up when you keep calling me 'babe'." His words were punctuated by the echo of a lid clattering onto the pan, the metallic sound reverberating as a comma at the end of a sentence.

A knowing smile graced her lips. "But we made a pact, a contract."

He sighed, "I know."

"Today is the last day. The Initiation is tomorrow."

"I'm aware."

The name that slipped from her lips held weight and history, a shared secret between them. "Baal..."

His shoulders slumped, a surrender to the gravity of their circumstances. Nord stepped closer, hands resting lightly upon his back, a tender gesture belonging only to them. "These ten years... they've been everything. The best patron, the dearest friend, the most incredible boyfriend. The short notice husband. You've taught me everything and brought true happiness into my life. And I would give anything to not do this."

Her voice softened, carrying the resonance of a decision made. "But she's my sister. She is my soulmate. Today, our pact comes to an end. You'll have to do it. For you and for me, I need to return your magic."

“You’ll forget me, you’ll forget everything…”

“I know.”

“Why can’t I be your Soulmate?

A pause heavy with emotions that transcended time. Baal turned, his gaze locking onto hers—a connection unbroken by uncertainty reflected by his black eyes kindle at the centre with a flaming orange iris. "Can't we at least have dinner first?"

A question met with a soft smile, her eyes holding his with unwavering conviction. "You know the answer."

With a heavy sigh, he leaned against the sink, head bowed as he wrestled with the inevitability of their end.

She closed the distance between them, her touch a balm to his troubled heart. "These years have been perfect. But it's time. I'm scared if we keep postponing it, I lose the willpower to do it. Because … I don’t want to lose you, Baal…"

He looked up, his eyes burning with an unspoken regret but also gratitude. "I know, me too."

Positioned before her, a bristle of determination in his stance, he swept aside the tendrils of her untamed, short hair, revealing the canvas of her face—diamond-shaped and framed by wide, deep brown eyes. To the world, she might have resembled any ordinary girl next door, one who could melt into the tapestry of a crowd, slipping by unnoticed. But to him, she was more than that. She was his Northern Star, the beacon that illuminated his days. Her name, Nord Morningstar, was fitting.

"Nord Morningstar, my minion, my warlock, my best friend, my wife," his voice resonated with reverence and command as he held her hands within his own. His gaze, holding a savage crackling flame, locked onto her face.

"Tomorrow, you shall journey to the Initiation of South Morningstar. There, you shall claim the Hallow as your own, accepting the penitence that comes with it—to be cast away. I have bestowed upon you knowledge, tools, and weapons etched into the very fabric of your skin. You shall stand as my right hand and rule in my name over any world you shall step. And so it shall come to pass, so it is decreed, for my words are carved into my being—Baal Berith!"

A silence hung between them, a pregnant pause as Nord's gaze flickered, uncertainty dancing within her eyes. "I can still remember..."

"Tomorrow morning, those memories shall vanish," he interjected with a small smirk. "But before that, let us share a last dinner together, let me kiss you until none of us can feel their lips and let me make love to my wife for the last time. At the first light, it shall be as if none of this ever happened."

A hint of gratitude infused her response. "Thank you."

"Now, let us eat. I'm starving."

"Baal?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"Don't be silly; I love you more."

Dumdum's body slumped onto the cold, stone step, his back against the stairwell's wall. The mixed emotions that swelled within him were too overpowering, too complex to easily untangle. His heart ached with the sorrow of Baal and Nord, their love so palpable yet so cruelly truncated. It was as if he had ingested their happiness and their agony, their love and their loss, and now he was filled to the brim, overflowing with feelings he couldn't fully grasp.

"Why?" he murmured, a single tear escaping his eye and making its journey down his cheek. "Why do stories like these have to end as such?"

Just as he was on the brink of losing himself in this emotional tempest, a voice—deep, authoritative, and tinged with a mystique that commanded attention—echoed through the stone chamber.

"Who are you? And what are you doing in the Tower of Memories?"