Once Erevan had returned with a huge amount of silverweed, they quickly began a production and distribution chain. Well, Nalion was working on the production and Ilias was keeping the pot at the right temperature. The rest focused on the distribution part. Even Spiro was helping, herding the townsfolk to the inn together with the innkeeper himself. Once they were sure to have made enough for there to be at least a mouthful for every person in the town, they left the rest of the work to Claire, Robert, and the humans who’d already gotten their share.

Well, except for Carl. The self-proclaimed mayor had very vocally insisted he’d get his share first, as he “was the mayor and therefore a crucial, integral and invaluable part of the town”. As soon as he’d gotten his share, Carl had left as suddenly as he’d appeared in the first place.

A small part of Ilias wanted to remark something in the line of how Nalion had come upon the antidote in the nick of time, but he squashed that part down. People didn’t usually appreciate his bad jokes. Well, his father had once. But that was a long time ago. Regardless, what Nalion had done was beyond impressive. Ilias had known the elf was absolutely brilliant, but to reverse-engineer a cure out of scraps… He didn’t know what to think.

True, it seemed that the book had played a part too. He should stop being so creeped out by it as it had, so far, only been helpful. Yet he couldn’t rid himself of the eerie familiarity of the softly glowing eye. It didn’t make any sense since he couldn’t for the life of him remember ever laying eyes upon anything similar in his life.

The afternoon had crept upon them as they’d worked, so they agreed to take a small pause to eat and rest before heading to the towers once more. He shoved down the food, ignoring the slight nausea. It was a bit better now than what it had been in the morning. Being productive had always seemed to help before too. So long as he didn’t screw things up that is. That always made it worse.

As they began strolling towards the towers, Ilias glanced up. More dark clouds had gathered, promising rain later on. He hoped against hope that the rain would blow past while they were otherwise preoccupied. But then again with his luck? They’d probably be caught right in the middle of the worst of it.

The trio plus Spiro met with Yoric at the entrance. Together they made their way to the Tower of Magi and up to the room where they had found the wererats. Looking at the statues again made it feel like the answers had been obvious and he was immensely obtuse for not getting them earlier.

The platform creaked its way up and then they were back at the room where they’d been attacked. Ilias purposefully avoided looking at the corpses of the two wererats. It was making him queasy. It was also the unwelcome reminder of the first time he had hurt someone, actually hurt someone, instead of just weapons training.

There was a new statue there next to the platform, as there had been in the floors below. This one was carved into an old man. The man’s back was bent as he was heavily leaning on a staff. So in other words, more riddles.

Good thing they had Nalion, Ilias mused. He himself would probably still be stuck on the very first floor. Not that that would be surprising to anyone who knew him.

“I fly without wings, I can slay all things, I consume mighty empires. What am I?” the statue spoke, enunciating the words clearly.

“Hmm, could be greed, or power, or love,” Nalion thought out loud. “But what would their connection be to the statue?”

Ilias stared at the statue, trying to find something that differentiated it from the other ones they’d seen.

“Maybe it has something to do with age? The man is much older than the people the other statues depicted,” he suggested.

He wished he was better at something like this so he could help more. Instead here he was, being useless again. He shook his head slightly, trying to rid himself of the faint desolation lurking at the edges of his mind. He wondered briefly how it would have been to have such an astute mind as Nalion had. He couldn’t even imagine it.

“Oh, good idea!” exclaimed Nalion while inspecting the statue.

It made Ilias feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Maybe he wasn’t completely hopeless? Or maybe it was mere pity-praise. Yeah, now that he thought about it, it probably was the second one. He had only mentioned an obvious fact that anyone could have pointed out with ease. Nalion was just being kind because that was the type of person Nalion was.

“Time! That’s it, isn’t it?” said Nalion, humming happily. After he had uttered this, all of a sudden a small hole opened in the statue's staff. Ilias stifled a yelp, as he was caught unprepared. He then leaned in, getting a closer look. Within the hole lay three rings made of silver, each decorated with a red, blue and green stone. Ruby, sapphire and emerald? Those rings must have been really expensive. Just like the keys.

“Bony,” Erevan said warily. “Do you know what these rings mean?”

Yoric nodded.

“Are they dangerous?”

Yoric shook his head.

The ranger grunted appreciatively while pocketing the rings. Erevan was so smart as well, asking all the right questions. Ilias felt very out of his depth in the company of the other two.

“What do they mean though?” wondered Nalion. “Will they help us?”

Yoric nodded. Then the skeleton walked to Erevan, palm up, as if asking for a ring. Erevan looked at them and shrugged, placing one in the bony palm. Yoric began walking again, this time dramatically swaying from side to side as if nearly losing his balance. Then he put one of the rings on a bony finger and walked back to them without any problem. He took out the ring and gave it back to Erevan. Nalion was keenly watching the entire exchange.

“So it helps with balance,” Ilias said, impressed. At that, a pair of hazel eyes flicked towards him. The glance was executed in a way that seemed that Nalion tried his best to be very subtle, yet somehow managed to be the complete opposite as the elf asked: “Do they always help with balance?”

Wasn’t that embarrassing. Ilias could feel his cheeks heat faintly as he tried to shove down the shame. Of course they had noticed. How could they not notice the stumbling fool when he was right next to them? He briefly envied Erevan's natural grace while trying his hardest to blend in on his surroundings. Maybe the floor would do him a favour and just swallow him whole.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Yoric shook his head.

“Hmm, so in a specific situation then… Is it somehow connected to the towers?”

Yoric nodded empathetically.

“Oh!” Nalion cried out in excitement. “It helps in the bridges between the towers so that we won’t fall, doesn’t it!”

Yoric nodded again as Nalion wiggled his body in merriment, a wide grin on his face.

“Nice! Erevan, give me one!” Nalion gestured towards Erevan who rolled his eyes while offering a ring. He then tossed one in Ilias’ direction.

Oh crap. Ilias nearly caught it, as it had been an easy throw, yet it managed to bounce away from his fingertips. He fumbled like that for a while, almost clumsily catching it only to accidentally send it up in the air again. In the end it fell on the floor with a profound clang, rolling a bit away from his feet.

He bent down to take it, not wanting to see the looks on the others' faces. He just could not stop embarrassing himself could he? It was always such simple things he failed at as well. There never was a way he could rationalise it for himself, no “everyone struggles with this sort of thing”.

He smiled, trying to ignore the voice in his head as they all gathered on the platform again. For a few tense moments it lifted them, creaking up slowly as if to add to his misery. And of course they arrived in another pitch black room. Great.

Nalion let out a gasp. “Do you see these? They look like summoning circles. This must be where it all happened.”

“Yeah, there’s still dried blood on the walls,” Erevan rasped in a low voice somewhere in front of him. “Don’t think the key is here though. Let’s move on.”

Once more the platform creaked its way upwards to a few more empty rooms. It seemed that there were no more riddles at least. It felt like an eternity before the darkness began to abate. Ilias was relieved at the return of light above them - even as it stung in his tired eyes. He didn’t want to be in the way any more than he already was and the light would help. A little bit. He hoped.

Once they had gotten the staff he should probably leave so he wouldn’t keep holding Nalion and Erevan back. They were actual, real heroes and he felt like a child pretending to be something he was not. Which was actually a very apt description of the situation.

The room was dimly lit thanks to a window at the east-side, which was going all the way from the floor to the roof. Some of the late afternoon light spilled into the room, in spite of the clouds. Around the pristine walls there were embellished cabinets and bookshelves filled with different coloured potions, flasks and books as well as a globe of solid gold. Around the gilded globe a silver ball was spinning. The whole odd contraption was levitating a few inches off the dust-free shelf.

A luxurious and soft bed was located on the other side of the small platform and next to the bed, on a plush red velvet couch, there sat a skeleton.

Ilias noted with detached curiosity that the skeletons' skull faintly resembled an egg. It was fitting, considering the town was called Yolkshire. Though that was not the only oddity. Instead of empty eye sockets, the skeleton had shiny blue crystals embedded in his skull.

The skeleton sat still, watching them. Or staring towards them. It was hard to know if this one was aware of their existence as Yoric was, or if it was trapped in a time loop as the skeletons in the Guest Tower. Whatever the reason, it didn’t stop Erevan from distrustfully glaring at it. Or Nalion from sprinting to one of the large bookshelves to inspect the books within. Ilias subtly relaxed his shoulders. He should probably check if the skeleton was aware of them, just in case it would be offended by Nalion's perusing.

“Hello?” he said, keeping his demeanour open and easy-going.

“Hello,” answered the skeleton calmly. The voice echoed eerily, not natural in its cadence. The sound of it managed to effectively startle Nalion. The scrawny elf dropped the impressive stack of books he’d gathered in the short time they’d been there. The books landed on the floor noisily, and ended up strewn haphazardly in front of him.

Ilias felt startled as well, as he had not expected an actual answer. None of the skeletons from before had been able to verbally communicate. He quickly schooled his features into a pleasant smile.

“My name is Ilias of House Westley and these are Nalion, Erevan and Spiro,” he said politely, indicating to each person as he introduced them. He restrained the ingrained need to bow to a new acquaintance. It would just make things worse, considering how badly Erevan reacted each time.

Nalion gave a small, awkward wave. The elf appeared to be frozen in place in a slightly crouched position, as if his fingers itched to lift and sort the books from their dreadful disarray. Spiro was sitting on Nalion's shoulder, emitting a chittering sound of sorts whereas Erevan was glaring daggers at him. It made him want to shrink in himself as he realised he’d let the ranger down once more. Maybe he should have bowed after all? Well, it was too late already. He couldn’t just stop in the middle, could he?

“Perhaps you already know Yoric, the Chief of Staff?”

Yoric bowed towards the skeleton, who indicated for Yoric to stand up again- all the while remaining seated itself.

“A pleasure,” it replied in the same calm and collected manner. “Yes, I am familiar with Yoric.”

“Who are you?” Nalion blurted out, looking curious. Ilias repressed a wince. He really needed to get used to the others' bluntness.

The skeleton turned its blazing bejewelled eyes towards the older mage.

“I am Ryan LeBraow, the Head Mage in these towers.”

“Oh, cool!” said Nalion enthusiastically. “Do you know what happened in the towers? According to Yoric there were demons who attacked and we saw in the floor below a summoning circle so I would presume it happened in this tower, also why can you talk and the others can’t? Do you know what’s been going on otherwise? Who is Zion? OH! And we need to help the people in the town and find this staff that grows plants real fast so we need the key to the top floor of Zions tower because that’s where Yoric thinks it is, and also -”

Ryan lifted up a hand, the bones pearly white.

“I will tell thou my story and what I know. Perhaps, if Zion is still alive he could fix my mistake,” at this Nalion's eyes shone with a million more questions, “but I ask thou to please spare me thy questions and to leave me be once I am done.”

Nalion gave a sheepish smile and then glanced at the books on the ground forlornly before joining Ilias, Erevan and Yoric in front of the platform. The skeleton cleared his throat and began reminiscing.

“A long time ago, I was a young mage - sharp as a whip - who lived in this tower. Many students travelled from far and wide to learn magic from me and to meet Zion. I was well-respected among my peers despite my age, and completely full of myself. Then, I fell in love with a noble woman. This was my downfall. Thou see, human bodies are quite frail and humans live such short lives. It had not bothered me so much ere this, but as I was confronted by the imminent mortality of myself and my love… This made me envious of Zion. I too wanted to live and cherish my beloved, continue living our days to seemingly no end.”

Ryan sighed as he bent his head down ever so slightly. When he spoke again his voice was more sombre.

“I was a fool. I thought I found the spell I was looking for. With the help of a bound demon one could accomplish wonders. Me and my love would live, forever. I gathered the students and we drew the summoning circle. I was cocky, sure of my skill. I have never been more wrong. I do not know if it was the spell that went wrong, if I made a mistake or if the demon was too powerful but… Instead of summoning one, we summoned several. A magical blast shook the towers and as the demons attacked my students I… I ran. I came up here and did nothing but cower and hide. I can still hear their screams…”

Ryan paused, taking a few deep breaths as he looked away. Could skeletons take breaths? Ilias wasn’t sure. It looked like Ryan did at the very least. It was obvious to the teen that the skeleton was still troubled over the loss of his students. It did sound horrific. So much so that Ilias could feel his stomach begin to rebel again as he imagined being in Ryan's position. It felt like it could have easily been him, he had also been acting selfish and cowardly in the past. He still was. He was thankful that at least he hadn’t managed to mess up that bad.

“I am convinced that this,” Ryan lifted his head as he gestured to his skeletal form with a disgusted tone, “is the result of the spell gone wrong. I will live forever, trapped here in my own personal hell. I have not left this room since. I cannot face the consequences of my mistake.”

A silence fell. The trio exchanges glances.

“Thou inquired about the key to Zion's tower,” the skeleton continued after a while. “I do not possess it.”

Ilias’ stomach plummeted. All of this, for nothing? So many people would starve.

“I do, however, have the key to the Paladin Tower as I had previously stolen it from the Paladin chief Walter Howlter. That is also thy best bet in finding the key to the top of Zion’s tower if Yoric does not have it. Which I presume he does not, otherwise he would have led thy there. Thou can find the key within that book over there,” Ryan said while pointing towards one of the books on the floor that Nalion had dropped.

Not waiting for any further instructions, Erevan stalked over to the large pile of scattered books and picked up the book Ryan was pointing towards. The ranger opened the book with a wary look on his face, as if he was waiting for a menacing monster to jump out of there and attack them while madly cackling. Rather than finding a bloodthirsty demon, they discovered it to be hollow. Within it a small green key was glistening.

“Now please, leave me be,” Ryan said wearily, voice ringing with finality.

They took it as the dismissal it was.