Nalion felt conflicted as they left Ryan to his own devices. On the one hand, he had so many questions. On the other hand, the skeleton had made it clear he wanted to be left alone. Nalion pitied him. It was a harsh fate, even if he had brought it on himself.

Maybe events such as these were the reason humans had so many rules regarding magic: to try to protect the masses in case one mage snapped and accidentally summoned a demon army. Was it more human to be fallible to such mistakes than it was in his culture? Or were the elven Masters more precarious with the knowledge they departed, and who they departed it to? Thanks to Maira's teachings the wood elves were focused on a less destructive, though not necessarily less dangerous, type of magic.

It didn’t seem he’d get any more answers at the moment. He trailed after the others as they went down, floor after floor, until they got back to the bridge between the towers. This time he didn’t need to worry about Ilias at least, as the rings protected them even from the gentlest of winds.

He sent a small smile in Spiros direction as the latter landed on his shoulder, the now familiar light weight upon him warm and comforting. He’d grown quite fond of the small pseudodragon. It seemed the sentiment was mutual as Spiro gently rubbed his wet snout against Nalion’s cheek while a low purr rumbled in his chest. Such a sweetie. Nalion could feel his resolve not to give Spiro extra snacks faltering as his heart melted.

He discreetly fed Spiro small bits of bread as they walked up the stairs. When they finally reached the next dragon head statue, Nalion was out of breath. Again. These damned stairs. His legs were killing him. He massaged them gently as he gazed at the statue. This time it had green jewels for eyes. He appreciated the color-coding. He used the same technique sometimes with his notes so as to not mix them together.

Erevan inserted the key within the statue's mouth and twisted with ease. Once more they were met with the sight of a narrow, white marble bridge without any railings. They marched onwards out onto the bridge, one by one. The wind blew and stormed yet they were untouched - not a single piece of clothing flapped, not a hair went out of place. Nalion smiled again. The rings were nifty.

Soon they found themselves inside the third tower. It felt, however, as if they had been there before as the room they entered had the very same statue as the one in the tower of the Magi: sans the muddy boots. Even the room itself was arranged in a familiar circular fashion with a platform in the middle. What was really interesting was the symbol carved onto the statue’s chest. He'd seen that symbol before. It was the emblem of the Order of the Stag.

He very subtly glanced at Erevan. The ranger was looking at the same symbol while pressing his lips together so tight that they almost turned white, before looking at Nalion. There was a knowing glint in Erevan's eyes, as the ranger too recognized the symbol. Which was to be expected, considering how he had the ring and everything.

“What do yo- '' Nalion began, only for Erevan to interrupt him.

“Not in front of the human,” the ranger spoke in Elvish, voice harsh.

Nalion set his gaze on Ilias, who looked a bit lost. Or constipated? Maybe sad? Nalion looked back at Erevan again.

“Why not?” he asked earnestly in Elvish as well.

Erevan frowned deeply. “I don’t trust him. Not enough to talk about the Order.”

“So you were a member!” deduced Nalion with glee. Erevan glanced at Ilias. The younger mage was still standing in the same place, the same expression on his face. Then the ranger relaxed slightly, apparently finding whatever it was he was looking for. He pinned Nalion in his stare before rolling his eyes.

“I am. Probably the last one. How do you know about the Order?” Erevan asked, his blue eyes sharp and piercing. But not in a hostile way. Well, Nalion guessed.

“My mentor told me about them a little. I don’t know that much, unfortunately,” Nalion said, apologetic.

Erevan lifted an eyebrow as he crossed his arms. “What were you doing at the ruins of the Order that day?”

Nalion chuckled, feeling awkward and guilty as he tried his hardest to appear nonchalant. “Oh, haha, that? Nothing special.” He widened his eyes for extra effect, the way he’d seen Spiro do when the pseudodragon wanted more treats.

Erevan kept staring at him with what Nalion presumed was disbelief until he wilted slightly. It would probably be good to tell someone about his quest, even though Master Tathallan had advised against it. If something happened to him, it was of great importance that someone could continue in his stead. And who would be more trustworthy than Erevan, a member of the Order of the Stag? Though this was probably not the best place for such discussions as they needed to get to the staff as soon as possible.

“I’ll tell you later, okay?” Nalion said in a low voice, averting his eyes.

The gruff ranger seemed to accept this as he nodded before turning towards the statue, even though the frown did not lessen. “What do you think it means, that they have the Order's symbol carved into the statue?”

Nalion pondered for a moment. “I would guess it means that in order to move up or down we’ll need to say something. The way we had to solve riddles in the previous tower. Though I don’t know if this one is a riddle as well, or if we’re supposed to say something only members of the Order would know. Is there something specific only the members would know?”

One of Erevan's eyes twitched. “Maybe.”

With that Erevan stalked over to the platform with long steps. Nalion followed suit, and soon after so did Yoric and Ilias.

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Nalion could hear Erevan let out a breath before speaking. The ranger's voice carried through the room, strong and clear as the air after a heavy rain: “Know the Light, Shelter the Light, Don't Let the Flame Dwindle.”

Now what did THAT mean?! He’d have to document it for later pondering.

The platform began its elevation, slowly but surely.

“You were right Erevan!” he said, in Common this time, feeling excited. Who knew what they’d find in this tower? Soon they would also, hopefully, get to meet this Zion-person that everyone was talking about.

“Do you think Walter will be at the top, as Ryan was?” Nalion added conversationally to everyone and no one.

Erevan shrugged as Yoric nodded. Ilias, looking at the other two, answered: “Probably.”

“Let’s get to the top then so we’ll get this over with,” Erevan muttered.

The platform came to a stop. The room they found themselves in was empty except for several beds, wardrobes and chests. There was even a table and a few chairs. Everything looked untouched, with a thick layer of dust covering them. Nalion barely had time to take in the room before the platform began moving again.

They kept going up, passing room after room. Most of them were sheathed in light pouring in from windows, such as a chapel with altars to Maira and Ravan. Here and there there were skeletons lying about, unmoving since their demise based on the dust gathered upon them.

One of the earlier floors had been covered by darkness, making the light fading and dim for Nalion’s elven eyes. He would have wanted to stay there longer to uncover any potential secrets hidden there, as he could spy bookshelves upon bookshelves with small vials of red liquid inside of them. The room had even felt colder than the others. He wondered why, and what purpose it could serve.

Unfortunately Erevan had not wanted to stay and do some detective work. The ranger seemed impatient, that much was clear even for Nalion. He didn’t want to dissuade his sort-of-ally-maybe-potential-friend-who-would-help-save-the-world so he went along with it, ignoring his twitching fingers.

Oddly, he kept smelling something salty and fishy within the dark room. The smells kind of reminded him of the sea. Maybe it was some sort of preserved fish? Though why wouldn’t it be in the kitchen they had passed previously? And shouldn’t it smell extremely awful, after 300 years of waiting?

In some weird way it brought his mind to the book. He smiled. He couldn’t wait to be able to immerse himself into unlocking its secrets again. The sensation was almost like an incessant itch in the back of his mind, and the only way to scratch it was to read. And read. And read. And read some more.

Nalion was brought out of his musings as the platform stopped once more. This time it did not lift again even as Erevan repeated the sentence. The room was different too, as the space was smaller and right in front of the platform there was a simple wooden door. The wood on it had seen better days as it was cracked in several places.

Nalion stepped off the platform, sharing a questioning look with Erevan. Erevan nodded and went to open the door. It swung open without resistance.

Nalion was met with a surprisingly homey sight. There was a fire crackling happily in the fireplace, a finely crafted wooden bed in the corner and an old bearskin working as a rug. His eyes spotted a bookshelf filled with similar looking vials of red liquid that he’d seen on the floor much earlier. Next to the bookshelf there was a decorated wardrobe and before it a ladder leading up. Though what was at the other end, Nalion could not tell.

Near the fireplace there was a comfortable looking chair and upon it sat a skeleton, clutching the hilt of its sword. Nalion was instantly reminded of Ryan. Well, sans the sword part. And this one didn’t have any glowing jewels for eyes. Perhaps this was the skeleton Ryan had stolen the key from?

As the door opened, the skeleton rose up stiffly yet with speed Nalion had not expected it to possess. Its grip on the hilt of its sword was tight and steady. It appeared the skeleton was ready to fight them if needed, but was unwilling to do so unprovoked.

Nalion cleared his throat before giving a small wave. “Um, hello?”

The skeleton didn’t move. Nalion looked at Erevan, Ilias and Yoric, hoping that they would see his plea for assistance. Erevan's gaze, however, was glued to the hilt of the skeleton's sword. Nalion followed it and that’s when he realized that upon it the Orders symbol was embedded. Before he managed to mention this tidbit to the skeleton, Ilias stepped to the front. The younger mage looked happy and relaxed.

“Hello, are you Walter Howlter?” Ilias asked with a friendly tone.

Walter nodded slowly, though he did not remove his bony hand from the hilt.

Erevan's sharp eyes flitted up to the skeleton's face.

“You’re a member of the Order,” the ranger stated, “aren’t you.”

The skeleton remained unmoved, though its fingers twitched around the hilt.

“You know I know the Oath, otherwise we wouldn’t have gotten up here. But that’s not enough, is it?” Erevan said, sounding as if he somehow appreciated the deep-seated mistrust that the skeleton seemed to harbor towards them. Nalion was probably misreading that. Maybe.

Erevan put his hand down his neckline, his movements slow and obvious. The ranger reverently pulled out the ring in its chain, showing the symbol to the skeleton. As Walter saw the ring, he seemed to relax. Well, as much as a skeleton could relax. At the very least he released his death grip from the hilt of the sword.

“Can you speak?” inquired Nalion instantly.

Walter shook his head, causing some of the dust that had gathered on top of his skull to slowly fall around him. A spike of disappointment pierced Nalion’s heart. Shame. Guess his questions would have to wait.

The skeleton then gestured for them to come closer. However, as Nalion eagerly took a step forward, Walter lifted his hand palm up in a sign for them to stop. Nalion did as instructed, skidding to a halt. Walter then pointed at Erevan and beckoned for him to follow as the skeleton began climbing the ladder up.

Ohh, so members of the Order only? Now wasn’t that intriguing. If Nalion had a weaker moral compass, he might have tried to fight his way in just to get a peek at what was stashed above.

As it was he simply lifted a questioning eyebrow as Erevan's steady gaze met his. Erevan shrugged in a “whatcha-gonna-do” -manner which reminded Nalion a little of Hama.

As Erevan and Walter disappeared on the floor above, silence landed upon the group that remained. Ilias was switching from one foot to another, almost appearing restless if it were not for the small smile on his face. On the side Yoric stood still, posture stiff. Next to him Spiro was doing the same thing, except the small pseudodragon was puffing out his chest and had lifted his chin high. Nalion was quite sure that this was done jokingly as Spiro chirped, the sound reminding him of the first night they’d met. Nalion smiled fondly. Silly Spiro.

“What do you think they’re doing up there?” Ilias asked, eyes fixed at the roof from where some distant mumbling could be heard. Though it was impossible to distinguish any words, let alone the language used.

“I don’t know, probably some Order-stuff,” said Nalion absentmindedly as he chuckled at Spiros antics.

“What’s the Order?”

Nalion's face blanched. Oops. Erevan would not appreciate Nalion spilling his secrets. Time for damage-control.

“Order? What Order?” he lied through his teeth, going for a look of innocence as his voice squeaked.

Ilias stared at him as if he’s just had a stroke. Then something flashed in the blonds eyes, too fast for Nalion to decipher, before his face morphed into a friendly smile. Was he offended?

“Sorry, it was a stupid question,” Ilias said amicably. Okay, so probably not offended. That was good as it never had been Nalion's meaning to offend. It just wasn’t his secret to tell.

Nalion let out a breath discreetly. That had actually been close. Maybe he could convince Erevan into sharing what they knew with Ilias so he didn’t need to watch his tongue with his other maybe-friend. After all, he had enough secrets of his own to keep. Though no, that wouldn’t work. Erevan needed to trust Ilias first and the ranger seemed reluctant to do so for some reason. And trust couldn’t be forced, it needed to be earned.

After some time of Nalion quietly brainstorming possible ideas for trust-building exercises, he saw one of Erevan's worn leather boots being put on the ladder. Then the other one followed. Soon both Erevan and Walter were down, with the ranger having an unreadable expression on his face.

Nalion had to bite his tongue so that he wouldn’t rapidly fire all the questions running through his mind. Erevan would tell him when he was ready. If he needed to know that is. A faintly coppery taste filled his mouth as he bit down a little too hard. Whoops. He released the pressure, not wanting to accidentally do more damage.

“Do you have the key to the top of Zion's tower?” asked Nalion the moment Walter's feet had touched the ground, the words rushing out. Okay, he couldn’t keep all the questions within.

Thankfully the skeleton nodded, making Nalion want to do a little happy dance. Which he did. During it Walter walked to the wardrobe and pulled out a small silver key. He gave it to Erevan, who accepted it somberly.

Nalion waved goodbye and then they were on their long way down again. Finally they were going to get the staff. And they would also meet Zion. If he was still alive that is. He’d probably be in a skeletal form as the others, but hopefully he could speak like Ryan could. That way, Nalion could get some answers. And also maybe even free the rest of the skeletons from whatever it was that kept them from moving on.