"Don't tell me you didn't notice it?" The dark-skinned woman asked her lifelong friend with a tone of disdain. "It might be just the particular way in which my mind associates these things, but I thought you'd have caught on."
Indeed, something seemed off at the palace. As if the daily operation of the people there was enacted, rather than lived out. Freya wasn't blind to it, but she elected not to pay it any considerable amount of thought. Yes, the word 'thrall' in conjunction with these particular conditions seemed to resonate loudly in her mind, and a sudden chill ran down her spine.
Our protagonist looked back at the palace, briefly catching a glimpse of what seemed like an unfathomably immense presence standing behind it, hiding in the corner of her eye. It made every hair in her body stand up at attention, but as her eyes viewed the building in its entirety, no such presence was anywhere to be seen. Still, her eyes grew wide, and she could feel her body quiver as a response to the primal fear such a gargantuan figure imposed on her.
Her friend looked at her, expecting some response. When she noticed a frightened expression, she took a step closer and touched her shoulder. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a spectre."
Freya shook her head sideways, blinking rapidly as to try to get a grip of her own mind. "N-no. I'm fine. I must be tired or something of the sort." She turned around again towards the spire, shaken but still resolute. "I can probe deeper. It feels as if it beckons me."
"Maybe later, then? If you're tired, you could get some rest at my place and try la-" Orchidea was instantly interrupted by her friend: "No. I don't have time to spare. I'm fine." Her tone was brief and rude, and Orchidea winced, taking a step back in response.
"Fine. Do as you please. I'm going home. I'll be back later." She turned on her heels and left in a hurry, leaving no room for Freya's regretful response. 'I'm sorry' was just a set of hollow words.
A loud sigh. This wasn't who Freya wanted to be, but at the moment her resolve to push on seemed appropriate. An issue for later, she told herself. She sat down once more, as close to the spire as she could, legs crossed. Closing her eyes again, she let her astral body free itself from its shell and follow what seemed like a thread - a trail of magic that reached down into the swamp and to the bottom of the tower. For every meter traversed downwards, she felt a crushing feeling surround her. It wasn't real - or so she told herself. While at first she could see the glimmering outside of the tower as she descended head-first into the depths, soon deep darkness took over, and the princess could only see a faint light that she assumed would be the entrance. She guided herself by it and didn't dare turn back.
Upon reaching said faint light, it suddenly disappeared. Her feet were drawn downwards, and her body stood upright, the growing pressure from her descent subsiding almost in an instant. She took a step forward, reaching for something to touch in the darkness. Maybe the entrance would reveal something.
What she touched, however, was different from the crystalline exterior that she expected to find. It felt almost like skin. A thick membrane. Very much alive. She observed it recoil slightly from her touch.
For indeed, I felt it. The circumstances of how the girl managed to reach out to me, I don't fully understand. Mayhaps the spire's power created a temporary bridge between us, or maybe it'd been the nepenthe's work. It mattered little to me at the time.
What the girl witnessed next was the opening of an impossibly large, stupendous eyelid. Two layers of said eyelids wound themselves back to reveal a colour the woman had yet to ever witness before. There was no word capable of describing it. Beautiful beyond words, and even more terrifying than that. It took her a few seconds to realize what she beheld. It was all the time she had to witness such grandeur. As soon as my gaze focused on her, this vision faded from both her sight and mine.
All that was left before her now was a doorway. Very familiar in shape, its facets glimmering faintly with the reflection of her astral body's brilliance. She was utterly stunned, her mind unable to process what she had just witnessed. In the seconds that preceded this, the doorway opened slowly before her. Even her astral body shook erratically as she stood there. As if by instinct and mechanical impulse alone, she stepped forward into the spire. The waters of the swamp were held back by a barrier that kept it from flooding the inside. As the door closed itself behind her, she looked around at the illuminated main hall and set her jaded gaze upon an intricate crystalline staff that stood upright at the centre of it.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Trying to shake off the overwhelming dread that had consumed her just moments before, the woman made her way forward and reached for the staff. Upon touching its tip, it began emanating a powerful glow, projecting images around it that were realistic enough to fool her for a moment, thinking she was indeed in the company of someone else. As her eyes focused on the figure before her, however, the translucency it carried gave away it's true nature.
A tall, dark-skinned man, stereotypically ancient in his hunchback stance, leaning into his staff for support - the same that activated such an image - stood before her and stared at her with kind eyes. Or rather, his eyes stared past her and downwards, as she came to realize. He addressed someone behind her. "I've been expecting you." The man said with a deep voice that soothed her soul. As Freya turned around to see the subject of the man's speech, she saw no-one. It confused her and left her somewhat curious.
A few silent seconds later, the man reacted to what was undoubtedly the interlocutor of this dialogue with another kind set of words: "Ah. Yes. You see, dear friend, I never believed any of it. Only the words imparted unto me by god. I held mine peace as the damage was already done, but I for one always wished it had never happened."
Again, the prolonged silence. The man smiled, nodding in affirmation. "Indeed. I've been preparing myself for it. The chaos is unavoidable, but in the very least I shall depart knowing there is hope." Freya tried to divine the other half of the conversation as best as she could, but it was a futile attempt at best.
The young soon-to-be regent resolved to inspect the contents of the spire while the half-conversation continued. If anything called her attention, she’d be listening more intently. “I hath little stake in what happens to this world, Lu. I’m sure it hath not escaped thy notice. Still, as it stands, your soul is barest to me now that mine condition is such. I shan’t be fooled by hearsay.” Freya’s ears perked up with the pet-name, ‘Lu’. She had a very solid idea of who the mysterious interlocutor was, now, but it still made no sense. She couldn’t say his name or even a portion of it - so why could the old man?
This next pause was much briefer. “She’s a part of it, isn’t she?” This was followed by a much, much longer silence.
“All her ladyship will need is to touch her weapon to mine. I’m leaving all the preparations in place. She’ll listen in on this conversation, as well. At least mine half of it.” Freya’s ears went warm as if her body realized she was the subject of this conversation, which she assumed to take part in the past. She slowly made her way to the middle of the room where the old man stood, while still listening in intently. Her suspicions were on the rise.
The old man gave a hearty, ethereal laugh. “Indeed, earn it I hath. Good luck, morning-star.” The image of the man faded rapidly into a cloud of stars that condensed into the staff that still lay carved into the middle of the room as if a permanent fixture of it. His last words, along with his weird mannerisms, embedded themselves into the young lady’s mind.
Somewhat suspicious of a man who would ally himself with the devil or wish it good luck, she thought a great many times before deciding she had nothing to do but to follow whatever wicked plans lay in store for her. From experience with her mother, she knew the staff to be the sole means by which one could interact with the powers granted by the tower. And so, she unsheathed her spear - which even in her spiritual form, followed her as more than just an illusion.
Carefully approaching the crystalline tip of her spear to the focus that lay at the core of the staff, she could feel her hands trembling in anticipation. When the two crystalline foci finally came in contact, the rod rooted to the tower began to crumble away from bottom to top, but while also folding into itself in an eerie manner. Freya did her best not to move while this process developed, more scared of what stepping away could mean at this juncture than what finishing the process would.
Within a few seconds, the staff finished the meticulous process of folding into its crystalline source and then melded itself into the focus at the tip of Freya’s spear. That same focus began glowing with a pale yellow light, and she could feel her astral self being inundated with the mastery of the aspect of Force. An outcome not entirely unexpected, but surprising nevertheless.
Before she could get used to the feeling of this newfound power, the tower began rumbling intensely. She could sense that it was rising, as she felt pressured downward. She looked back at the entrance and witnessed as the waters of the Baile rushed downward, confirming her theory. Not a minute later, the tower had risen to its proper place. Already, people gathered outside in awe. Freya’s body still sat at the bridge that led to the entrance, eyes closed, in trance. An awkward feeling, to be sure.
The young lady quickly made her way back to her body and took back possession of it by assuming the same position as her flesh. She was back in control and that powerful feeling had not faded.
She stumbled to her feet, slightly disorientated by her spiritual journey. When she finally came to her senses, she looked back to find the Morn’s men gathered in a semicircle around the tower’s entrance, blocking her path in an offensive stance. She was rather taken aback by this. Taking a few steps backwards, she raised her palms up to her chest to indicate no harm was meant.
A few seconds later, one of the Morn’s highest-ranked elites, and a man she saw sitting at his majesty’s table not long before, came before her as the guards opened the way. He spoke in a loud, accusing tone, with a potent Fomorian accent besides. “What did you do, little girl?”