Darkness closed in around Harpyn. It felt as if his body was being ripped apart at the seams, cell by cell stretched across time and space, and then mashed back together again in a rush.

He stumbled out of the portal at the base of the Tower of Open Consciousness, his head still fuzzy. After all this time, he still didn't quite have the hang of using mage portals, and he wasn't terribly fond of the way his stomach felt all mixed up when he reached the other end. More than once he had traveled too far by portal and found himself checking to make sure that all of his appendages arrived in the correct location. Geor assured him that it wasn't such a big deal, but he still wasn't sure he trusted this particular type of magic.

As soon as he righted himself, and the portal disappeared behind him, a strangeness settled over him. He looked around curiously, wondering what had changed in his absence. Nothing looked out of place, at least not down here in the storage room.

Slowly, he began to climb the stairs, holding the parcel close to his chest and focusing on each step spiraling up the inside of the tower. The higher he climbed the stranger things felt.

"Geor?"

There was no answer. However, that wasn't altogether strange. Geor was known for falling asleep at inopportune times, or getting so caught up in his research that he didn't always answer when Harpyn was looking for him.

At first that had a given harp and quite a fright on account of the fact that Geor was several hundred years old, and nobody could be quite sure how he managed such longevity. All the same, Harpyn continued up the flight of stairs muttering to himself about how the old man must've nodded off again, leaving him to do all the hard work.

But when he rounded the third spiral of the staircase his heart leapt up into his throat and he dropped the package where he stood. Up ahead, a strange door had appeared in the wall of the tower.

“What have we here?"

Harper knew, after all, that on the other side of that wall was nothing but air. From the exterior of the tower there was certainly not a room jutting out just there.

As he approached, his eyes grew even wider with shock and he realized the lump of fabric on the ground actually belonged to Geor himself. Thoughtlessly, Harpyn rushed forward and shook the old man to try and rouse him. All around him, weapons racks and tables gleamed with magical weapons and strange devices, the likes of which Harpyn had never seen. It was like something out of the legends, only he was sure that those legends has been exactly that.

Still, he swore he recognized some of those weapons. Tayun’s sword, Sayara’s whip, Keldan’s trident. He knew them just like he knew the stories he had grown up with as a child.

Leaving Geor behind, he rose and made his way to the first table, his hand lingering just an inch above the pommel of the sword. He didn't know what to do. He felt like the sword itself was begging him to pick it up. He could be a hero. But no.

What would be the price if someone unworthy picked it up? He could die. Or perhaps something worse.

He was still muddling through these thoughts, his hand floating just above the hilt when a groan behind him caught his attention and he whipped around in a hurry, tucking his hands behind his back.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Harpyn? That you?"

Instinctively, and a little guiltily, Harpyn rushed back to Geor’s side and fell to his knees. He spared only a single glance back at the waiting sword, wondering if he could have been the one.

"It's me, Mage Consul. I’m here. Tell me what happened."

Geor groaned again and sat up a little before giving up the ploy and laying back down to stare at the ceiling. A deep frown formed on his face, his mouth working for a moment as he tried to speak. Harpyn lowered his ear to Geor’s mouth, hoping to catch the wisp of sounds that left his mouth.

“An accident," Geor mumbled. He shook his head again. "It was just an accident, nothing more. Now help me up, we need to get out of here."

Harpyn looked around and hesitated again even as his arms scooped under Geor’s shoulders and tried to support him.

“Where is here?"

Geor grumbled and shook his head. "Never mind. Just an old wizard’s vault. Full of odd trinkets I’ve collected over time. Foolish, really."

Harpyn arched an eyebrow despite himself but did not argue. He’d spent enough time with Geor to know that when he didn't want to tell you something, he just wouldn't.

After much effort, Harpyn managed to get Geor onto his feet and they stumbled side-by-side back out through the vault door. Navigating the stairs was an entirely different matter. By the time they reached the top of the mage tower, Geor was in quite a foul mood, reminding Harpyn with every other step that he was a fool and good for nothing.

Harpyn, on the other hand, was covered in sweat and thinking to himself that it was, in fact, Geor who was a fool and good for nothing.

Harpyn brought Geor over to a wooden stool and sat him down beside his work table. The old wizard still had not fully regained his whereabouts, and seemed quite content to just sit there a long while staring out the window over the forest. Harpyn, unsure of what he should do with himself, decided it best that he stay close lest the old man fall off the stool and hit his head. It had occurred to him by that point, that should anything happen to the mage consul, he was not entirely sure who to contact or what to do. He was still far from completing his studies, and had very little idea about how things worked among the upper echelons of the mage’s order.

When it became apparent that Geor was not going to fall over, and he was not going to tell Harpyn what to do next, Harpyn took it upon himself to return downstairs. First, there was the matter of the parcel, he reasoned. It wouldn’t do to leave it on the stairs where anyone might trip over it. And if he happened to take another peek inside the vault while he was down there, who would be the wiser?

He glanced back at Geor one last time, reassuring himself that the old mage was still upright before he hurried down the first few steps with a feeling of giddiness buzzing through him.

As expected, the parcel was still laying on the step where he’d first dropped it. He scooped it up and tucked it back under his arm, and then hurried over to the open door, pausing just long enough to steady his shaking hands before he pulled it open a little further and looked around the other side.

To his shock and amazement, the room was alive with activity. The weapons and instruments that had lain so quietly on the table before were not moving about the room of their own accord. And they weren’t alone. Gold shimmers flitted in and out of Harpyn’s vision, first in the shape of a horse and then a dragon. Once, he swore he saw a woman with a bird’s face. Everywhere he looked, it seemed that uncontrolled magic was pouring forth, bringing fantastical creatures to life before snuffing them out again in an instant.

It wasn’t until one of those creatures looked straight at him and made a shrill screeching sound that he realized he’d been staring. As soon as the first golden being sounded the alarm, all of the others seemed to take notice. A moment later and every weapon was pointed at him, and the shimmering gold creatures that flitted about their room turned their attention on him, too.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he managed. “I really must be going.”

Now he knew that Geor had not suffered a mere accident in that room, and he was certain he wanted to be as far away from those possessed things as he could. As he darted back up the stairs, he heard the distressed clang of the items throwing themselves at the vault door in his wake.