The surrounding woods were eerie with the absence of light and strange transition from the side of the village to a darker forest. It was as though they stepped into a new place altogether, not the woods set next to a village that seemed normal. These woods had a creepy feel to them, danger falling from the trees or wherever else the tower decided.

It was exactly that, though. A new, magical place that the tower presented to the group of Climbers, a challenge to overcome and push through. Wyn was still mystified and impressed all at once.

He stopped to feel the leaves and trees, and they felt so real. He had wondered if this was going to feel fake or something would be off, as though the tower had created a fake image or copy of the real world to populate its residence, but it didn’t feel that way at all. It was alive.

“Strange, I know.”

Wyn jerked his hand from the tree in surprise and whipped his head around. Cedric was standing behind him smiling, his staff in his right hand.

“This whole place is nothing like you thought, is it?” He had a sly smile on his face, and was failing to suppress it.

“Not at all,” Wyn replied. “It’s so real.”

“It’s because it is. It's as real as it gets.”

Wyn thought about that for a second. “I guess I didn’t think much about what was in the tower, only what I could gain from it. I knew it was dangerous, but still.”

“Some people believe the tower actually holds this environment, that it changes for a new season every month into something different so people can’t exploit it for too long. That you climb the tower literally after each floor, hence the height.”

“And others believe different,” Lionel said.

Cedric turned his head sharply, eyes wide. He quickly settled down. Lionel was standing behind him, listening quietly.

“What do they believe?” John asked. Everyone was listening at this point, eager to learn more about the tower. Marcy was the only one not interested, holding a small splinter of wood and absentmindedly picking her teeth.

“They believe the opposite,” Lionel continued, “about the environment here. That the tower actually transports people to another place. An entire plane of existence, actually.”

“Woah,” John said. “That’s… hard to imagine.”

“I’ll say,” Tasha chimed in. “How can one magical reason be crazier than the other?”

John scrunched his face. “Huh. I’m not sure. That’s a fair question, to be honest. But why would the tower be so tall, then?”

“Because of what it represents,” Lionel said. He was inspecting a tree, the same one Wyn was standing beside. He ran his hands up and down the bark as though he was familiar with it. “It’s a monument. A marker of a challenge for those deemed strong enough to find true meaning and prove themselves worthy.”

Cedric narrowed his eyes. He glanced over at Marcy. She was standing against a tree but tossed her toothpick to the ground. Her arms were crossed and she nodded. He nodded back.

“I know, I know,” Tasha said. “That’s the goal of all Climbers - climb the tower, survive, claim your rewards.”

Lionel jerked his hand from the tree and cleared his throat. “Exactly. Which surviving isn’t easy with all the monsters and traps here.”

“Oh, those spiders weren’t that bad,” John said. He waved his sword in the air. “We handled them just fine!”

“That sword of yours is something else,” Lionel said. “It’s no fair that you’re a decent Climber, too.”

“If you’re not careful, Lionel, I’d say you’re starting to like me.”

Wyn suddenly heard a low growl from the darkness further down the path. It wasn’t loud but it was obvious, specific in its nature. He looked into the dark woods but couldn’t see too far past Tasha’s magical light. The shadows and darkness were oddly heavy, and based on his experiences it shouldn’t be this dark at this time.

Just as Cedric and Lionel both said, though, the tower was different. Even the environment was not normal. Wyn knew he needed to be more on guard here than ever.

Another growl echoed the first.

“There are other things out here besides spiders, John,” Wyn said. He grabbed his spear and readied himself. “I heard growls in the thicket. Get ready!”

Lionel raised his axe. “I’ve been ready. Stay behind me and you won’t get hurt.”

Wyn stared at him. Then, uncontrollably, he stared through him. His mind wandered, and he lost his focus.

“…stay behind me, sir, and you won’t get hurt! We can’t afford to lose you!” A hollowed voice came from a far away time. A blurry man dressed in armor and holding a sword and shield stepped in front of Wyn. The scene was like looking through still water, murky and unclear, sounds muffled and dull, but he could still make out what was said.

“No!” Wyn yelled back, trying to stand up from a kneeling position. He failed, falling back to his knees. He looked down and saw a bloodied, dirty arrow shaft sticking out from his stomach, the white feathers clean and pristine. The arrow was as clear as the morning sun, a point of clarity in the haze of memories.

The soldier guarded Wyn with his shield, standing tall and towering over him. The sky was orange with the setting sun, the land around them muddy and littered with bodies, both humans and horses either lying still or frantically writhing about.

It didn’t make sense. They were supposed to surprise them, not the other way around. It was a setup? How? The enemy knew they were coming, and they were ruthless.

The orange sky turned dark. Wyn looked up as a large flock of birds silently flew over them, the messenger of death signaling he was coming.

“Stay down, sir! Please!” The face of the man was clearer. Only it wasn’t a man. He was no more older than a boy, barely seventeen, his first engagement in war. Wyn looked past him at the sky, at the fast moving birds.

No, they weren’t birds. They were arrows.

Their silence quickly faded as dull thumps hit like a barrage around them, screams and cries responding everywhere. The loudest was in front of Wyn, as the boy blocked most with his shield but not all.

Wyn finally gathered the strength to stand in the mud. The boy then lost his strength and fell on his shield. Wyn looked down, arrows littering the muddy field like flowers of death, their white feathered fletchings like morbid daisy petals. Several were sticking out of the boy, who was now silent, quiet and still. He used his shield to block Wyn, and where he couldn’t block him, he used his body to shield the rest.

The scene faded into a cloud as quickly as it came. Wyn was knocked on his back, shouldered from a tackle by a large wolf. He looked up from the ground, aching and pained, and saw a canopy of dark leaves and limbs from trees, not an orange sky. He shook his head. Immediately in front of him was a wolf growling and snarling, its teeth bared as bloody saliva dripped from its mouth.

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Wyn could feel the hot air it breathed on him, the smell of a canine’s breath - pungent and real. He snapped back into reality instantly, the gravity of the situation cloaking over him in warm, dangerous air. He saw a flash of sharp teeth and knew it was over.

Wyn closed his eyes softly, accepting his fate. The fate stolen from him not long ago in a muddy field of death and daisies, a time borrowed and short lived.

A loud thunk hit flesh. He shot his eyes back open in surprise. He thought of the field, the many arrows that penetrated man, beast, and earth, and recognized that gruesome sound.

Only he was here in the tower, about to be eaten by a wolf. Suddenly, though, the wolf fell hard to its side, blood seeping from its neck.

A bloodied, dirty arrow shaft stuck out from its neck, the colored feathers clean and pristine. Both arrow and beast lay still.

“Get it together, Wyn!” A far off voice yelled.

Wyn looked around. Marcy was standing about thirty feet away, her back to a tree. She had an arrow nocked and drawn, though stared hard at Wyn.

“Get off your ass, I said!” She repeated, and loosed an arrow at another wolf.

Wyn saw the arrow fly into a gaping mouth scarily close to Tasha's arm, the very arm that supported her staff - the group's sole source of light. She whimpered and closed her eyes, scared, though the wolf fell midair with an arrow protruding from its skull.

Wyn took a deep breath and audibly blew out hard. He was dead weight, almost literally. He didn't want to fail another group, and needed to focus. His eyes darted around the area, scanning the situation.

Tasha was standing in the middle of an open area of the magic forest, her staff glowing and giving off light. It was bright but not overly bright like the sun - it offered as much brightness as a torch but it reached further than a torch ever could, its magic working to light up their area. The wolf Marcy slayed with her arrow laid beside her, and she was shaking, her staff vibrating with her nerves and sobs.

She was terrified, and Wyn didn’t blame her. The setting was chaos, and outside their circle of light was darkness and more unknown dangers.

Cedric stood at the edge of their light peering deeper into the forest. It was as if he saw further despite the darkness, looking for other threats. He very well could see past there, his skills unknown to the rookie Climbers. Marcy was standing on the opposite side on the edge of their light, the two veterans sandwiching the rookies in a protective manner. She had already fired two arrows, felling a wolf with each one, and had a third ready.

John was waving his flaming sword around, using it like a torch to ward off the wolves. It was working, thankfully, as three wolves had him surrounded but weren’t openly attacking him. They were crouched low and snarling at him, ready to attack, though hesitant from his deadly, magically flaming sword.

Wyn heard a sound he knew all too well - the slurping, wet sound of metal meeting flesh. Only it was exiting instead, and he turned his head to see Lionel pull his axe out of a Wolf’s back. There was another dead wolf that laid beside him.

“You useless Mage,” Lionel said. He took a quick, heavy breath and steadied himself. “Do something already - don’t just stand there!” He trotted over beside John and began to swing at one the wolves surrounding him, yelling as he moved.

Wyn clenched his jaw, angry at Lionel, though mostly for him being right - he was not only useless right now, but by not acting he was causing the situation to be even worse. His knuckles went white as he gripped his spear in anger, and a sudden jolt of pain erupted from his left arm when he tried to lift his spear. His robe was ripped and shoulder bloody. The wolf didn’t just tackle him - it took a small chunk out of his shoulder.

Ignoring the wound, he ran over to Tasha to support her.

“Are you alright?” He asked her. She looked over at him, her eyes large and frantic. She was blinking fast and turning her head in seemingly all directions to check for danger.

She didn’t answer him.

“Okay,” Wyn said, “listen. We’ll be fine. We need you, though. Just in case.”

Silence.

“Tasha.”

Her breathing slowed when she heard her name. She looked at Wyn, staring, and allowed her gaze to soften. She seemed to relax a bit. Her staff stopped shaking so heavily. Then, she gasped.

“Wyn, your shoulder!” Without a response, she pointed her bright staff at him. “Cure!”

A wave of refreshing energy washed over Wyn’s left shoulder, followed by a tingling where the tissue and flesh magically regrew and reformed. He saw the same effect on Tasha’s back from his own spell, but this effect was instant.

“Thank you,” Wyn said. He moved his arm around and it thankfully felt perfectly normal.

“You’re welcome. I can at least do that.”

“Yes, you can. And watch for people getting injured so you can heal them, too.”

She nodded, and looked over at the two Fighters who were standing their ground. Or, more accurately, where Lionel was wildly swinging his axe and John was matching his chaos with a flaming sword.

Wyn chuckled to himself. It was absurd, but effective. At least for now.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a wolf circling them. It was eyeing John, waiting for the opportunity to attack. John didn’t see it as he was preoccupied with the wolves in front of him, having struck one down with his sword already.

Wyn patted Tasha’s shoulder in reassurance and began to work his way left, slow but steady. He knew that if he’d be able to circle it himself, he could catch it off guard. He’d have to be quick, though, and quiet.

The ground was soft under his feet, as the grass was tall enough to soften his steps but not impede his advance. He crouched low and moved with purpose. He didn’t want to move too slow in case the wolf decided to attack, but didn’t want to alert it, either.

Luckily the tactic paid off.

Wyn was able to get right behind it before it closed in on John. He lunged quickly, launching off his rear foot, and jabbed his spear out with force.

He pierced through the wolf’s haunches at an angle, feeling less resistance than he anticipated. The spear tip protruded through the wolf’s left front shoulder, as Wyn staked it from its right side. He pulled the spear back and the wolf fell in its place, dying immediately.

John sliced through another wolf, the magical fire searing the wound as he cut it. It whined and limped for only a second before John sliced down at another angle, following up his first strike.

The area of the woods went suddenly quiet, save for the sound of leaves and branches swaying in trees they couldn’t see. Wyn breathed deep, settling his heart rate.

Both John and Lionel didn’t look tired at all. Tasha was sweating more than all of them, though mostly from fear.

“I didn’t know what was going to happen,” Marcy said. She walked over to the group and still had an arrow nocked though not drawn. “Especially from you. I wasn’t expecting you to freeze, Wyn.”

Wyn’s cheeks flushed. He looked at the ground and squeezed his spear hard. Truth be told, he didn’t expect to freeze, either.

John flicked his sword and the flames subsided. He sheathed it to rest. “What happened?”

“I…” Wyn started, and paused. “I had a memory overtake me. From the war. When you said to stay behind you, Lionel, it drew it out of me. I’m sorry.”

“You’re a liability,” Lionel said. “A weak Red Mage in class and a weak person in experience.”

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Tasha said. “Just because he’s not a popular class doesn’t mean you can put him down!”

“He’s a shit class and he could get us killed, too,” Lionel said. “Being in the war is not a good thing. Not if you clam up like that when we need help.”

Wyn pursed his lips. He kept quiet, because he knew Lionel was right, unfortunately. Again.

“Well, he seemed to snap out of it,” John said. “We’ll be fine. Just try not to let it happen again, Wyn, okay?”

“I know,” Wyn said. “I’m sorry. Truly. I lost my focus and realize now how dangerous it is here. Of course I won’t let it happen again.”

“Then it’s settled!” Tasha said. “I mean, I froze, too. Let’s just move on. If anyone got hurt I’d heal them.”

“You’re a White Mage,” Lionel said. “You aren’t supposed to fight. No offense. He’s a Red Mage, and a veteran. He has both experience and a class that encourages fighting. It’s inexcusable.”

“I’ve seen things I’d rather forget, Lionel,” Wyn said. “And I’m sure people have seen and experienced things in this tower, too, but it was war. Fought by soldiers that could barely be called adults. And no magic to heal them when they got hurt. At least not the grunts, anyway.”

The group was silent for a moment.

“Still,” Lionel said. “I’ll take care of myself. I won’t rely on you or anyone else. I don’t trust anyone.”

“Then you’re time here will be difficult and unpleasant,” Cedric said. “Climbing the tower means working together. If you don’t do that you don’t succeed - period.”

“We’ll see about that,” Lionel replied. “No obstacle here will stop me. Just wait.”

“At least we took care of the wolves,” John said. “So that’s encouraging!”

“There’s more out there,” Marcy said.

“Wait, what?” John asked. How do you know?”

“I’m a Ranger! That’s part of my class. I can hear and see them. Is that scary to you?” She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow playfully.

Cedric laughed. “I’ve always been jealous of that.”

Wyn looked at Marcy. She might’ve been joking around, but there was more to her than she lets on. Cedric, too. So maybe he wasn’t the one looking into the dark - she was.

John groaned. “Then maybe we should keep going? Let’s stick to finishing the floor. There’s an objective, after all. And it’s not killing everything in here.”

“Agreed,” Wyn said. “We stick to the same formation. Keep going down the path deeper in.”

Lionel immediately set out ahead of the group without another word. The rest followed, falling in line.

Wyn’s gut still felt unsettled. Lionel wasn’t team minded, and though he didn’t have much room to talk, Wyn felt he’d a liability in the long run. The Fighter said he didn’t trust anyone, and Wyn certainly didn’t trust him.

The quicker they could finish the climb, the quicker he could move on from the guy.

“Come on,” Marcy said, poking at Wyn. “We’ll be fine. You, too.“

Wyn smiled. As much as he wanted to get away from Lionel, he wanted to partner up with Marcy that much more.