Slowly, as if time stood still, they fell. Uncaring as to what was happening in the realm they were in, they fell. The tiny, smoldering remnants of the world were falling. Just as burnt as the ones residing in this realm, the ashes fell down.
In the midst of this tenebrous realm, there stood a mighty tower. Built by the gods, and hated by the dead.
It stood still, marking the fate of those who were unfortunate enough to be in the same lands. Unmoving, unbreakable and unpassable, it robbed them their tiny sliver of hope because of its mere presence.
Amidst the falling ashes, a lone figure emerged from the boundary of these lands, stepping into the realm from nowhere. It was confused, the lone figure found itself inside of this new place, without any knowledge of what was before and without the slightest hunch of what may just be coming.
As it looked around, its gaze moved unconsciously towards the center of this place filled with the vast gray mass of the accumulated ashes. Then its gaze found the object it was searching for: a building that reached into the skies, its tip just barely touching the dimming, red sun.
This was what it was here for. There it could find the answers to all the things unknown. It knew that reaching the top of this tower would lead to its salvation, the freedom it sought after.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
The realm shook, halting the figures thoughts completely. Voices could be heard, announcing recurring doom anew for the unfortunate newcomer: "Another one has joined the Lost Kingdom. You, who is forsaken, shall be remaining here, going through challenge after challenge, for the sole purpose of reaching the top."
The voices sounded like the embodiment of all the suffering and lost hope the others inside of this realm possessed, sending shivers down the spine of the lone figure. “Only when all the trials have been completed and the favor of the gods has been gained, shall you leave this place.”
The figure fell down the moment when the voices ceased talking and the trembling of the realm was the strongest. As fast as these tremors came, they stopped as well. The figure now understood why it had the urge to get there. In order to break from the shackles that bound it to this realm, it needed to reach the top of this tower and touch the sun.
Suddenly, it felt a burning sensation coming from its right palm. Raising its hand it observed what was happening. A red circle was embedding itself on its charred, gray skin, seemingly pulsating as time went on while the figure observed the palm.
The mark on its palm was the key to freedom, the burning sensation telling him that it longed for the warmth of the sun. Closing the palm, the figure stood up and once again fixated its gaze on the Tower. Not watching longer than mere moments it started walking towards it, not minding anything in its surroundings. Barefoot it walked through these lands, not feeling any pain even though the surface was rough and uneven. With nothing more on than rags on its burnt skin, it took its first steps towards the Tower of Gods.