Lorian Vale, lead investigator of the Order of Inquest, stood at the base of the Tower of Goldmere, his gaze fixed on its towering presence. The ancient structure loomed over him, its gray stone walls veined with silver, reflecting the light in a way that seemed almost deliberate. The tower tapered as it rose, culminating in a gleaming spire that reached toward the sky, topped by a magical beacon visible for miles—a sentinel of the realm.

For a brief moment, Lorian allowed himself to be lost in the majesty of the tower, the weight of its centuries pressing down on him.

"Lead investigator, let's not waste time."

Captain Mira Deyne spoke, her jaw set. A pinched expression appeared as Lorian looked at the captain.

She does not trust me.

"Let us do that captain."

As Lorian and Captain Mira stepped through the heavy oak doors of the Tower of Goldmere, they were greeted by a vast, open space. The interior of the tower was bathed in the soft glow of sunlight filtering through tall, narrow windows high above, casting beams of light across the stone floor. The air was cool, tinged with the scent of ancient wood and the faint hum of magic that seemed to vibrate through the very walls.

The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the province’s history—grand battles, legendary Guardians, and mythical creatures—all rendered in rich, faded colors. The staircase ahead spiralled upward, its stone steps worn smooth by centuries of use. As they begun their ascent, the sheer scale of the tower became evident, with each level rising higher, the ceiling stretching toward a distant, vaulted arch that seems to disappear into the sky.

With every step they took, the light shifted, the tower’s magic growing more pronounced, as though the very air around them was charged with energy. The higher they climbed, the more the tower opened up—wide, arched doorways and soaring windows that look out over Goldmere, offering glimpses of the sprawling city below. The walls were etched with runes, their glow faint but steady, marking the ancient protections woven into the stone.

As they reached the upper levels, the atmosphere grew more serene, almost sacred. The soft hum of magic wass stronger there, as though it emanated from the stone itself, and the doors to the inner sanctum of the Guardians stand ahead—large, solid, and crowned with the sigil of Goldmere, a winged serpent coiled around a tower.

Lorian looked around him with bright eyes. He was from capital, so he was not used to the interior of a guardian tower. The amazement was short lived however as the sensitive nose of Lorian caught the scent of blood in the air.

They arrived at the door leading into the sanctum of Elysia Valance, the Guardian whose brutal murder had brought Lorian to this place. The scent of blood was unmistakable, mingling with the ancient smell of stone, more pronounced as they reached the door.

Lorian’s heart rate quickened, and he wiped his damp palms on his coat, the weight of the investigation sinking in. This was no ordinary case—it was the most significant of his career, and it had drawn him far from the familiar comfort of the capital. Here, in Goldmere, he was an outsider, surrounded by strangers who he could not trust.

And the case is far too complicated already.

Beside him, Captain Mira’s face had drained of color. Her hands shook as she fumbled with the lock. Lorian studied her with quiet attention, noting the beads of sweat dotting her forehead, the anxiety that radiated from her despite her attempt to remain composed.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

He had his own dread, but Mira’s was palpable, almost tangible. He let her work in silence, the sound of her trembling hands against the lock the only noise in the otherwise quiet tower.

When the door finally creaked open, Lorian’s pulse surged again. Beyond it lay the room where Elysia Valance had met her violent end, and the scent of blood filled the air more strongly now, a stark reminder of the tragedy that had unfolded here.

Lorian’s mind sharpened, the thrill of the case mixing with the weight of the unknown. He was far from home, far from the people he trusted, but he would see this through. His eyes flicked to Captain Mira once more, and he noted the tremor in her hands. There was more to her unease than the murder itself—this was personal for her. But Lorian would have to wait to uncover that.

For now, there was work to be done.

Lorian stepped into the room, the weight of the scene settling over him immediately. He’d seen countless crime scenes, but there was something raw, visceral about this one—a rage that seemed to reverberate from the walls themselves. 

Elysia Valance lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, her Guardian armor in ruins around her. The once-proud gold and silver plates—symbols of her duty and her strength—had been savagely torn, as if her assailant had taken satisfaction in breaking down the very symbol of her authority. Jagged rents in the metal exposed bruised and bloodied skin, evidence of brutal strikes delivered long after any life had left her body. The killer hadn’t just wanted her dead; they’d wanted to obliterate her.

Lorian’s gaze drifted over the walls and floor, stained with dark smears where Elysia had been dragged, thrown, or pushed. A table lay overturned, its legs splintered, and shards of glass sparkled across the floor, catching the light like jagged stars amid the shadows. Blood had pooled around her and smeared into symbols carved into the floor—Guardians’ marks defiled by the savage red stain, transforming the sacred into something almost mocking.

Her face was frozen in a look of horror, eyes wide and staring, as if she had known the rage she faced was personal. One gauntlet was missing, her hand stretched out in a last, desperate attempt at defense or perhaps reaching for a sword that was nowhere to be found. Her head was twisted at an unnatural angle, her once-proud posture shattered as violently as her body.

Captain Mira, pale and silent beside him, took in the scene with the kind of dread that only familiarity brings. Her jaw tightened, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of grief.

Lorian glanced her way. “You’ve seen this already.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes.” Her voice was low, steady, but the tremor in her fingers betrayed the truth.

Lorian moved closer, noting the controlled savagery of the scene. “A murder driven by passion… someone who wanted more than her life,” he murmured, as if speaking to himself. “They wanted her undone.” 

The most pressing question hung heavily in the air—how had anyone managed to kill a Guardian, especially within the sanctuary of their own tower? The Tower’s defenses, powerful enough to turn back armies, should have prevented this.

“What do we know of the tower’s magical defenses?” Lorian’s voice was tight, his jaw clenched as he forced himself to ask. He could taste the bitterness of dread as he bit down on the inside of his cheek.

Captain Mira’s face was pale, her gaze distant, haunted. “The magical defenses of the tower… they seem to have simply vanished,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Lorian felt a cold chill crawl up his spine. “The defenses… undone?” He could barely believe the words even as they left his mouth. How could it be? Everyone knew that the defenses of these towers were among the most potent feats of magic ever woven. History was filled with stories of these towers turning the tide of war, of Guardians who had withstood entire sieges thanks to the enchantments.

“T-this…” Lorian struggled to speak, his throat tightening. He could feel his pulse racing as the implications set in. He took several deep breaths, trying to ground himself in the face of this impossible truth.

Lorian took several steadying breaths, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he wrestled down the surge of dread. Get yourself together, Lorian.

Opening his eyes, he turned to Captain Mira. “What have you found so far? And has the capital been informed about the tower’s defenses… vanishing?”

Captain Mira's gaze was distant, her voice hollow. “We looked for any other possible entry points the killer could have used. There are only two: the staircase or climbing the tower itself—which should be nearly impossible. We’re confident the murderer came up the staircase. We’ve also compiled a list of people of interest for questioning, sir.”

Lorian’s gaze swept the room, absorbing the wreckage and blood stains. “It seems the killer disabled the defences, an act never achieved before and then commited a murder of passion.”

He knelt beside Elysia’s body, noting her twisted neck. His mind raced as he examined her. Or was this meant to look like a crime of passion?He scrutinized her body, his eyes narrowing at the undamaged fingernails, the absence of defensive wounds. “Elysia might have already been dead before the other damage was inflicted. Someone may want us to think this was a crime of rage.”

The pieces didn’t fit. The disappearance of the tower’s defense, a seemingly brutal murder—together, they didn’t add up. If the goal was to stage a crime of passion, then disabling the tower’s legendary magic was an enormous risk, one that would only invite more questions. Why go to such lengths?

Lorian’s eyes shifted to Captain Mira, who stood silent, her face drawn and pale.

“Let’s leave for now, Captain. We’ve got a lot of work ahead. Make sure a few guards stay posted here.”

Captain Mira glanced at Elysia’s body, her lips pressed tight. “Shall we clean the room, sir?”

Lorian gave her a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “No. Leave it as it is. This may be the only clue we have.”