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The storm did not cease. The stormy sea threw itself against the rocks below, sending ever higher waves crashing against the lighthouse's foundation.
The lighthouse, dating back three centuries, bore the marks that time left on all neglected things. Its stone and wood had weathered, taking on a distinguished, mouldy grey hue. Inside, it was filled with broken machinerary and rotten, forgotten equipment. They were a remnant of those novelties and innovations that Tairan cultures once brought to the Northlands, before they had been subdued and extinguished by the sheer masses of primitive, warfaring humans who had roamed the lands back then. Humans had multiplied and spread like insects until the Humans Restrict Act initiated the strategic containment and control of the human race. The closest monitored human habitat was 140 km inland. No other peoples had settled the coastal region since then. The harsh land was saline and void of wildlife, the winds and winters cruel, and fishing impossible without provoking the wrath of the territorial sea beasts. World energies were extremely sparce.
On the desolate coast, wanderers and adventurers were an uncommon sight. Few journeyed to these remote shores, and even fewer still made their way to the abandoned lighthouses and ruins that dotted the coastline. There was no treasure here. Everything had been picked clean decades ago. There was no life. You came here to die, or you came here to disappear from the world, like Yves.
Despite the decades of neglect that had taken their toll, Yves had stored his most valuable artefacts and tomes within the lighthouse, safeguarded by layers of protective magical seals and potent illusions. At first glance, the aging structure appeared as nothing more than another weathered ruin, an easy illusion considering its true state of disrepair. This exterior façade was maintained by a glamour spell, obscuring the alterations Yves had made from within: Beneath the veneer of abandonment lay spells that held the structure together. The glamour spell hid all those protective spells that Yves had cast over the building to prevent it from truly falling apart.
Similarly, the ground floor held more than met the eye; it was a bastion of illusion and secrecy. A potent anti-detection spell veiled the entryway to an underground sanctuary. To access it, Yves had to enter a narrow gap between the inner and outer wall, originally constructed for a system of pulleys and mechanical workings he never fully comprehended.
Within the narrow passageway, he could reach a concealed trapdoor hiding a slender stone staircase that wound its way down to an underground level. Without prior knowledge, an intruder would walk right over it.
Even if someone had a genuine reason to search for treasures and actually found the veiled passage behind the inner wall, they would still need to consciously look for the trapdoor. Even a determined treasure-seeker would walk over it, for their attention would be drawn to a ladder conveniently placed beside the entrance. With this ladder, the curious trespasser could climb up between the lighthouse's inner and outer walls.
The original staircase leading to the upper levels had long since collapsed, rendering all but the ground and first floors inaccessible. Any intruders entering the lighthouse would typically explore these two accessible levels and then naturally wonder if there was more to find at the top. Before discovering the hidden entrance and ladder, they would have already concluded that if any treasure remained after centuries, it would be found on the uppermost floors. It was the most obvious and logical assumption, making the discovery of the secret ladder an equally enticing prospect.
Anyone attempting to ascend the narrow space between the walls needed to be of Tairan-like or slim humanoid build, effectively deterring most races and adventurers bulkier in physique. Others were left with no choice but to shed their armour or weaponry to avoid breaking the fragile ladder under their weight — unless they dared to climb the lighthouse from the outside to then force their way in from the beacon. This tactic was a deliberate strategy aimed at further challenging and impeding any potential intruders. Yves had intentionally sabotaged and weakened the ladder, having removed or tampered with several crossbars for precisely this purpose. These measures might appear insignificant and even rudimentary, given that intruders must already possess the skills to navigate to the coast and decipher the elaborate magical disguises. However, if there was one thing that Yves had taken from his own experiences as a treasure hunter, it was that things should never, suddenly, feel too easy.
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Those who proceeded without getting stuck or breaking their necks would reach an intermediate floor situated just beneath the lighthouse's beacon. They would not be able to ascend further, since too many ropes, pulleys and mechanical chains obstructed the climb to the top. They would also not be able to access the actual floor. Inaccessible by any other means than from below — not counting the obvious Berserker move of breaking through the wall —, this floor featured a narrow walkway between the inner and outer wall. You couldn't go completely around the tower in this secret passage, but you could take several steps to the left or right from the ladder before the walkway thinned out and the inner and outer walls merged. After all, it was not a deliberately designed hiding place, but just space for the mechanics.
Well, this walkway now served as an elaborate decoy hideout. Yves' intent was to both challenge and captivate, to exhaust and excite and eventually satisfy those determined enough to come all this way. Anyone who made it this far must possess determination and magical prowess. Yves made sure to cater to their expectations by actually hiding a modicum of genuine treasure, complete with an array of spells. His web of enchantments included an advanced perception filter that rendered these valuable items indistinguishable from mundane mechanical objects such as clockwork and chains that hung everywhere without discernable order or purpose. Yves had also replaced singular bricks with boxes that held fragile trinkets and coin. Set right into the wall at the most difficult places to reach and coated with the right glamour spell, they appeared and, upon touch, also felt indistinguishable from the other bricks. Worthless objects in turn appeared like moderately well hidden treasure. This layer of final misdirection was essential to make this treasure hunt appear coherent. Yves expected an intruder to exhaust himself unravelling these illusions, eventually finding excitement in figuring them out, rake in the decoy rewards and subsequently depart, never suspecting the existence of the real sanctuary lying far beneath.
While the deluded would leave content, only the genuinely skilled and sceptical, those who anticipated and successfully unveiled the hidden underground sanctuary, would prove a real threat. This hideout was Yves' stronghold, where he safeguarded his most potent and enigmatic artefacts, and where he would prepare for battle against such a foe.
In their underground hideout, Yves and Midnight found themselves surrounded by a gentle, dim radiance that emanated from the rock walls. The chamber had been carved from the natural rock formations, its stone surfaces adorned with intricate runes and symbols that glowed with sealed energy.
The heart of the room was a large crystal structure, which emitted a soft, soothing light. Ever so often, Yves approached the structure and rested his hand upon its surface. A deep tranquillity and renewed clarity would immediately wash over him. This was his meditation crystal, a well of magical energy he harnessed to center himself. Next to it, Yves had placed a cauldron that was imbued with an enchantment that rendered both the cauldron’s magical properties and its contents immune to detection. He got that one from a witch and was not proud of how that came to be.
He gathered an assortment of dried herbs and began brewing a potion. Yves followed a recipe he had learned from a witch during his youth, even before entering the academy. With care, he combined various herbs, including moonwort and sprite's blood, over a roaring silver fire. As he stirred the mixture, he incorporated powdered Sawaya horn and the sinew of a Fairy Butler’s wing, which gave the potion a luminous, iridescent quality.
This potion was to dissipate into the air, serving as an enchantment to ward off any scrying attempts and prevent any unwanted ears from overhearing his conversations with Midnight. Yves was well aware that this potion, while highly effective, was an unorthodox choice for a wizard. It was shameful for a wizard to use witches’ magic.
The complex animosity between wizards and witches was steeped in history and tensions. Wizards were the more refined and potent spellcasters, while most witches were primitive and superstitious. Despite their animosity, Yves recognised that witches possessed unique insights into natural resources and potion-making that even the most accomplished wizards lacked. Using witch magic was deemed taboo in all respected magical circles, but oh well, so was stealing arcane knowledge from the academy’s forbidden library or striking deals with witch mothers. Witch magic had its rare advantages, particularly when it came to the intricacies of detection and concealment spells. Yves knew that witches’ enchantments were difficult for wizards to detect and solve, since they rely on fundamentally different principles. He had learned this the hard way, after spending months unravelling a witch’s curse that had been placed on one of his artefacts and from there had moved onto him.
As Yves finished his Potion of Shame, he carefully poured it into several small vials and sealed all but one with a cork. Placing the latter on a stand on the table, he stored the others for later use. With the one remaining vial from his last brew, he now had nine vials in total, which would last for eleven hours each. If you asked the witch who had taught him, she would indignantly insist that the potion lasted for 11 hours, 11 minutes and 11 seconds, but Yves, being a wizard, simply had no patience for such number games.
Now that everything was well concealed, he needed to rest and to prepare for his upcoming departure. The next thing he did, though, was to use the witch cauldron to make mashed potatoes. He still had potatoes from his visit to the human habitat. Though Yves had restored his energy to great amounts with his energy crystal and was able to soothe his mind with the meditation crystal, something inside him compelled him to eat — if only to feel that his body was indeed physical again.
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