The crowd erupted into cheers and claps—a collective release of tension that had knotted every chest—as each team reappeared in the territories they were sent to. Rez found himself shouting along, caught up in the raw emotion that spilled forth from thousands of throats. Rez's heart beat with a rhythm that seemed to echo off the pit walls with the cheers and cries of the crowd. But this was just the beginning, and everyone knew that while there was a chance for victory, however small, tragedy would surely be a part of it.
Sheaths number of teams was down to about 30. The Aeon Coalition had seen to that. With mostly 3 person teams, only over a hundred casters left. Aeons relentless assaults on Sheath's casters had left scars not just on families but on the very essence of their city. A glance towards the horst showed a few more casters still in Sheath, who had stood back from the ritual. Making sure there was enough for next time, a few to train and protect, just in case.
Rez's fingers twitched, mirroring a casters' final gesture before they crossed into the realm of immortals. He had watched as the cobalt-feathered leader and their team vanished into the tower's brilliance, their figures becoming part of the grand show played out above.
Lerrin tugged at his sleeve, her eyes reflecting the tower's glow. "Rez, look! They've begun!" she exclaimed, pointing toward one group's who were the first to face real peril. His eyes followed her gesture, watching as one team navigated a labyrinth that seemed to twist and turn upon itself. They moved well, with the Casters every spell leaving trails of incandescent light. Another team faced what appeared to be a gargantuan beast, but incredibly slow. The casters worked in unison, their spells weaving together to form a shield of shimmering energy. With every successful defense and counterattack, Rez felt a surge of pride—for them and for Sheath.
These were the first hours. Only testing the weakest, or unluckiest. The spectacle would last usually at least 2-3 days—at least for Sheath. He could only guess how long other towers climbed, but from what stories there were, it hardly ever lasted more than a week. Winning—what must that look like. Sheath hasn't been a strong nation in the Climb for a long long time. It must have been over a century since the city had an actual Winner.
The casters' images continued to flicker across the tower's surface—a dance of light and shadow where every movement was followed with trepidation. Even the tower added to the suspense as each success brightened the spire momentarily, and setbacks dimmed it like a heartbeat slowing down, as to emphasize was it meant to win or lose.
Rez clenched his jaw as he watched one group falter, their coordination crumbling under an onslaught of arcane obstacles. A caster fell—murmurs rippled through the crowd. They rose again, looking worse for the wear, but this was still the ground floor, with a long way to go.
His gaze swept over Sheath—forlorn towering homes clawing at scarce light, empty. He thought of the cramped quarters below, so bright this close to the tower, but always with a feeling that the dark is only a handful of earth away. He saw young people like himself who had only ever known a dying Sheath—and he couldn't help but look at the bright world in the tower, past the dangers, seeing a world in bloom. Blue skies, green forests. Open Plains. A land of wonder.
His eyes remained fixed on the images playing across the beacon in front of him—images of failure and hope. And so Rez and Lerrin stood together—brother and sister—watching a part of their own fate unfold upon an impossible canvas made real. Rez watched as the casters gathered resources, pages fluttering into their hands like butterflies, or fought off spectral opponents that emerged from the walls themselves. No human enemies had appeared yet, but it would only be a matter of time. They always found them.
Rez and Lerrin had made it back to their grandparents. As the time wore on even the teenagers had felt a tug to be with their families in these heavy hours. Rez's grandfather leaned heavily on his cane, squinting at the tower's display. "Look there," he pointed toward a caster weaving spells with finesse, "that's Kapa. She's got potential. She is going high." The girl dodged an enemy's strike, countering with a blast of energy that sent her assailant into oblivion. She was quick and decisive—good traits to stay alive.
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"It's not just about reaching high floors," Rez murmured to Lerrin who clung to his arm. "They need to secure Golem Hearts too."
A collective gasp rose from the crowd a little while later as Kapa's team ascended to a higher tier. "They must have completed one of the towers quests to ascend early" Lerrin added. "Told you." His grandfather intoned.
A few hours later, as Darkwatch approached and teams battled and climbed, hope and dread wove through the onlookers like twin serpents unable to untangle themselves.
Then it happened, a group in tier two, seemed to have found something. Rez watched with bated breath as one member approached an altar-like structure glowing with inner light. The caster extended trembling hands and lifted an actual Golem heart from its cradle hidden inside the altar, the light from it pulsing like a newborn star. A cheer erupted from those gathered around Rez; a cheer fraught with relief and victory. "It's been years since I saw one on the second floor", their grandfather injected over the roar over the crowd.
Yet triumph was fleeting. As Rez looked upon Kapa's image once more, he saw her falter—a yet unseen enemy striking her down for a moment. Wails and screams went up in the crowd, before she got the upper hand again. "She is the last child left in her family." his grandmother added heavily. As images shifted and blurred with motion and magic, Rez felt Lerrin squeeze his hand tighter and he squeezed back just as firmly.
Together they stood by their grandparents—by their city—and watched as Sheath's casters wove spells of all colors against monsters, lay and averted traps and fought the occasional enemy caster. Each one fighting not just for themselves or for glory but for all of Sheath clinging desperately to hope beneath an ever-shining tower that held both their salvation and demise within its eternal glow.
Rez hunched close to the cold ground, his eyes lost in the ghostly projections shimmering in the heart of Sheath. Around him, families nestled together. They lay draped in cloaks, whispering prayers and fears into the void above. Those with loved ones in the tower clung to each other with a fervor that betrayed their dread and hope.
Lerrin had moved close to Rez's side, her eyes mirroring the anxiety of those around. She peered through a makeshift looking glass, one of many scattered around to give viewers a better glimpse into the tower's happenings. The device amplified the light, casting a ghostly aura over her face.
"There," she murmured, pointing toward a section of light that pulsed like a slow heartbeat. "Kapa's team is signaling each other; she's still pushing forward." Rez nodded, he moved his eyes over the different windows clustered together that showed each of her 3 person team. Two combatants and her as ranger, attack focused.
As the sun in the towerworld descended, Kapa had entered a cavern and her team had slain two slimes through their magic and impact explosions from dislodged falling stalactites. She stood apart from her team in a deep cavern, bathed in a soft luminescence. Now a beacon herself amidst the dim cavern, she reached for pages suddenly swirling around her, each one a promise of power. As her fingers closed around a page, the crowds hoots echoed off the stone walls in Sheath. Another ray of hope for the city.
The moment was shattered by a sudden outcry from across the assembly. Not one but two groups had been ambushed in the twilight—one of them Merals.
Gasps and cries erupted as projections showed Meral and other figures locked in brutal combat. Spells flashed and roared through the battleground; desperation clawed at every movement as the team struggled to fend off their assailants. "Curse those Aeons," Rez's grandfather spat, his hands balling into fists. Beside them, Lerrin flinched as the other group faced peril from a pack of salamander-like creatures that had erupted from the mud beneath them without warning. They moved with grace and speed, ambushing casters with jaws agape and claws ready to rend and had already taken down one of the three.
Meral was only a good year older than Rez. It was her first time in the tower. She had been training this last year, the same way Rez would start his with the new season. As all worker kids would. She was still at level 4, the highest you could get without joining the Climb—for anything higher, you needed to reach the 5th tier in the tower.
And Meral would stay at her level, doomed to repeat the journey in the same position next time. Rez had to watch as another spell pierced the leather armor she had initiated in. At least her life wasn't on the line this time.
As Darkwatch ticked by, even the casters' families began to show signs of weariness. Eyes drooped; bodies slumped against one another. The events within the tower thankfully slowed to a somber pace as well as the sun inside sunk below the horizon. Through almost a hundred magical windows a rare phenomenon unfolded—the last rays of a setting sun from another world bathed a rift in Allei in a red light almost forgotten.
Rez lifted his face toward the ethereal glow, letting it wash over him. It felt like a distant memory stirring within his bones—a taste of something wondrous and intangible. The rings of the amphitheater suddenly a golden arena. For a moment, the gathered crowd fell silent, enraptured by this fleeting gift from beyond their darkened home.