The last thing Talasin saw before the tower door slammed in his face was fear etched on Garnet's face as a pack of shadow hounds burst through the monastery gates.

“Open up!” he yelled, pounding on the door and throwing his weight against it. “Let me out!”

The door remained magically sealed no matter how he tried, the handle wouldn't budge.

“Garnet! Garnet!” His words trailed away as his anger gave way to despair, and his self-control slipped away from him.

No, not like this, please goddess help me.

He kicked the door and began shouting curses at the tower door and begging it to open, but no response came, save for the sound of shadow hounds howling and men fighting for their lives a hands' breath away from him. He was so close to them, yet worlds apart.

The door will only open when I reach the summit and retrieve the familiar, or die trying.

He could only hope that Garnet would be alive when he returned. He turned around, he didn't have time to waste. He drew his silver sword, ready to face whatever challenges the tower had in stall for him.

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At first glance, the first floor seemed empty. The room was dark and there were no windows. But as he drew nearer he saw a small table, two chairs, and an old brazier that filled most of the space. A single polished wooden staircase led up to the next floor.

As he took a step forward, the tower shook. The table screeched across the floor and a chair crashed into the wall.

What the hell is going on out there?

Talasin wasted no time moving to the stairs. He took the steps three at a time, ignoring his unhealed wounds and bruised ribs.

He continued climbing one staircase after another. It seemed like the tower went on forever. Each floor was similar, but with subtle differences. Some had furniture, some had beds, and there was even an old kitchen on one floor. It looked like the tower had once been the residence for people of the Order.

He didn't waste time thinking about it. His only goal was to get to the top as quickly as possible.

He arrived on the next floor and was greeted by the putrid smell of rotten flesh.

A decaying corpse was prostrated on the ground. It was a woman. Her skin was pale and stretched tight over her bones. Her hair was tangled and matted, her eyes wide open and staring past Talasin without seeing him.

Her body looked like she’d died a handful of days earlier, even though it had been seven years since another person had climbed the tower.

There's something strange going on in this tower.

As he drew nearer, he saw the wounds in her side, deep cuts where a sword had sliced her open, leaving her to slowly bleed to death.

She’s been murdered.

He'd expected the tower to throw challenges and riddles at him, but he had not expected this.

Had the tower preserved her body as a warning. Maybe to tell him that he was not alone. Or maybe her body was left there to taunt him. To remind him that he could just as easily die here.

He moved towards the corpse, knelt beside her, and placed his hand on her cold forehead. "May your soul find rest in light, sister," he whispered.

“I wish I could do more,” he muttered. “But I have someone I need to save.”

He stood up and as he did the tower shook again. He reached out and leaned against the wall to brace himself.

“What's going on out there!”

Finally, the shaking stopped and silence fell on the tower, the only sound the wind whistling around the tower walls.

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On the next floor, he found a pile of corpses. It looked like men and women had fought to the death. Their bodies were sprawled across each other, weapons still clutched in their hands.

They were all frozen in the act of dying. But Talasin noticed a few things. All the corpses wore the same clothes as the woman on the previous floor. On one woman's collar he saw the sigil of the Talamasca.

They were all in here at the same time. But why?

He left the scene behind and kept moving. As he walked, he saw things in the corner of his eye, and at times he swore he heard people whispering.

He looked towards the next floor and saw a figure on the far side of the room moving about, obviously searching for something.

"Hello!" he shouted, running over to the person.

He arrived at the spot and pushed aside a broken table, the person was gone with no trace left behind.

This is not good.

He rounded the next corner and saw a woman running down the stairs, carrying something in her arms. As she descended the staircase, a man appeared, blocking the way, a blade held before him.

She tried to run around the man, but he spun around and blocked her path, something about the man seemed so familiar to Talasin.

It was in the way the man stood, the way he moved. Talasin had spent years studying this person’s every move. The man turned around, and as he did so, Talasin found himself staring at a younger version of his master.

"Master Garrick!" he shouted

Garrick vanished and then immediately appeared again in front of Talasin. He brought his weapon down across Talasin's throat, cutting through his neck bone and sending blood gushing onto the stone floor.

Talasin fell back, gasping for breath, stunned and confused. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. His trembling hands rose up, and he looked down and saw that the blood was gone.

He felt his neck, but there was no wound and there was no pain.

He fell to his knees and something crunched beneath him. He shifted over and saw that he had landed on the dried bones of a woman, her head was separated from her body and a stain of dried blood surrounded her.

“Ghosts,” he muttered under his breath.

No, not ghosts, fragments of memories trapped in their final moments of death.

He stood up, and stepping back from the skeleton.

“But if these are memories,” he began to say, then stopped. He shook his head. “No, Master Garrick wouldn't kill a defenceless woman. There has to be something else going on.”

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He continued to see visions or memories as she climbed the stairs. Horrific scenes of betrayal and bloodshed, repeating over and over in an endless loop.

He tried his best to ignore them and press on to his goal. But no matter which way he thought about it, his mind kept coming up with the same conclusion. Something tragic had happened here, and his master had been involved.

An hour later, he reached the top of the tower. He was breathless and sweat soaked but relieved that his goal was finally insight. The tower had challenged him, but not as badly as he had expected.

He looked around the top floor, looking for the ethereal armament. There was a large window on one side of the room, and through it the golden morning light shone brightly.

A single statue of a young woman stood in the center, her hands were held high as she stared down at him with an expression of silent judgement.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Belladeon," he said. "Goddess, I come to claim my familiar."

He was sure what he had expected. The goddess had never spoken to him. But a part of him thought that once he took this final step, there would be a word from her, a sign of her divine approval.

But there was nothing, no sign that his words had even been heard.

“Goddess,” he repeated. “I come to claim a weapon to defend our people.”

The statue merely stared down at him, and then in the corner of his eye he saw movement. At first, it was just a flicker and then a tiny ball of black swirling energy appeared in the palms of the statue's hand. I grew to about the size of a fist and it pulsed in the air like a black beating heart.

He reached out to touch it, then froze.

What's wrong with it? Should it look and feel like this?

The dark flashed brightly in response to his indecision. Electricity sparked across the room, smashing into the walls and floor with violent force.

The walls trembled, and then the tiles in the floor began to crack.

Oh, shit!

The floor gave way and for a second, Talasin felt weightless. His hand shot out, grabbing hold of the ledge.

He held on as his legs dangled helplessly. His ribs ached, but he held on tight. He looked down, but he saw no floor beneath him, just a black abyss waiting to swallow him whole.

If I let go, what will happen? Will I become another ghost haunting this place?

He tightened his grip and felt his stitches popping and unhealed wounds tearing open.

The squirming mass of energy continued to expand, and the sound of a mighty wind rushed through the tower. Ghosts shrieked as the black familiar drew them in, pulling them into a vortex of darkness and chaos.

A dark mist began to rise, gathering around the familiar. It changed form as the spirits were absorbed into it. It started as a giant black cloud, and then it sprouted arms.

It swirled and pulsated, taking on the shape of a great horned beast with multiple animalistic heads. The horns curved in towards each other until they met, and the creature grew even larger.

“Is that you, my familiar?” he shouted. “Your form has been corrupted by the souls that fed you.”

In response, the creature opened its jaws and roared, sending a blast of black energy directly at Talasin.

Talasin screamed as his adrenaline kicked in. He pulled himself up, ignoring the blood running out of his unhealed wounds.

The blast of energy smashed into the wall, inches from where his head had just been. He rolled onto his back and breathed heavily.

"Is this all you've got?” he shouted.

He slowly got to his feet, “You are my familiar, my weapon, I expect more from you.”

The corrupted familiar swung its mighty arms, it hit him in the chest, flinging him through the air. He smashed into the wall and felt his unhealed ribs crack.

"I'll show you who's the master," Talasin snarled as he rolled over and shoved himself to his feet.

He ran forward, avoiding the giant holes in the floor. He drew his silver sword and ducked under another attack.

He rolled and rammed the blade into the corrupted familiar’s leg. The creature was still young, newly born. It had never felt pain before. It recoiled at the pain inflicted by the silver blade, transforming back into a swirling vapor.

Talasin didn't give it time to recover. He thrust his hand into the smoky creature’s chest, wrapping his fingers around the familiar's core.

Searing pain shot through his hand, but he didn't let go. He could smell his flesh burning, see his fingers turning black and his finger nails curling back in the most excruciatingly painful way possible.

He saw visions of the spirits of the dead that had fueled the cores creation, he saw their dreams taken from them in the prime of their youth, they'd wanted to change the world to be part of the good. But they'd been killed too soon. They'd never had the chance to do anything, to live, to experience life.

He saw them in his mind. They were apprentices once like him. They had come to the tower to receive the blessing of the goddess, but instead they had been forced to kill each other for it.

Only one student could reach the top and claim the reborn familiar, the last time it had been his master.

Talasin knew that the souls of the damned would be here for generations, igniting the flame that rebirthed the familiar. They were trapped in a lifeless husk, unable to rest until their souls were spent.

Talasin closed his eyes, focused on his connection to the familiar.

“Goddess, shine your light into the dark,” he prayed. “Set free the captives, purify the corruption.”

With a powerful tug, he yanked the core out of the host body. There was a shriek of pain followed by a stillness.

The silence filled the room until Talasin couldn't stand it and then as if a coil had been released the dark electrical energy exploded out of the beast as the ghosts tore free of their prison.

Bricks fell from the tower’s walls and the stained-glass window shattered and shards of glass fell to the floor.

Talasin lay on the floor, exhausted, his skin pale, and his breath short. His head was spinning, and he felt like he was going to be sick.

“Master,” a voice whispered in his mind.

He reached out to the voice and in response, warmth spread up his arm and through his body. The pulsating core transformed into a gold amulet and clinked to the floor.

[Undetermined Ethereal Armament Obtained]

He sighed in relief as he picked it up and pressed it to his chest.

The aspect of the goddess flooded his vision.

[Fifth Order Apprentice ⇾ Evolved To⇾ Crimson Hunter]

[Two-handed Sword Mastery Tier 1 ⇾ Evolved To⇾ Tier 2]

“Light be damned,” he groaned. “I’m finally a Crimson Hunter.”

And then he heard a sound, like pieces of wood being rubbed together. Something was moving.

Talasin got to his feet, his silver sword poised and ready.

He heard a soft tapping sound coming from the shattered window. He stood still, listening intently, trying to make sense of the sound.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice sounding loud in the empty tower.

The tapping stopped.

As he stepped closer to the window, the surrounding tower wall exploded inwards and dark hands, fingers nightmarishly long, shot through the hole.

Talasin dodged them, jumping backwards, but three more hands appeared, clawing at his face, gripping his hair. He swung his blade wildly, cutting off fingers that squirmed on the ground.

Another set of hands emerged through the window, grabbing at his legs. He cut through another finger, but the second hand grabbed his arm and squeezed. The sword dropped limply from his hands and fell out of the window.

The demonic arms wrapped around him, crushing the breath out of his lungs.

He struggled to reach for his dagger, but his arms were pinned to his side.

He flailed against the arms, but they were too strong. The demon’s arms tensed, and Talasin was yanked out through the hole in the wall and tossed into the air.

As he fell, he saw a spider-like demon perched on the side of the tower, its many hands reaching out to him.

“Familiar, help me?” he yelled.

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Master Garrick had once said that the form an undetermined familiar takes is decided by the greatest need of its user.

Talasin’s need was simple. He was falling and at any moment he’d hit the ground.

He felt his link with his familiar. It was calling to him urgently, asking him to name it, to give it an identity.

The name came to Talasin in an instant. “Arkose!” he yelled. “I need you.”

Time crawled to a halt as light and shadow erupted out of the amulet. A two-handed sword appeared floating in front of him. One side of the sword was black as night, the other the gold of the rising sun.

[Ethereal Armament: Void Blade]

He felt Arkose telling him to surrender to the power, to let it take control.

"Screw that!" he yelled. He’d fought to become the master. "You surrender to me!"

He looked down and saw the ground below and demons gathered waiting for him. The spider demon sprinted down the side of the tower, venom dripping from its fangs.

Talasin raised his sword and felt the ebb and flow, the prod and pull of the familiar’s power. He seized the magic, drawing it out of the sword, and commanded it to do his will.

[Crush: Activated]

Power radiated from the sword like an invisible hand pressing down. Talasin swung his sword down, bringing the full power of gravity crushing down on the shadow hounds below.

The power snatched the spider demon out of the air, forcing it into the ground. The earth split in a deafening roar and the gathered demon’s legs buckled and splintered, their bodies splattering blood across the floor and rocks crumbled into dust.

They were dead, but if he didn't act soon, he would meet the same grizzly fate.

He felt Arkose shaping the power to his need. Talasin flipped the sword and harnessed the second side of the armaments magic.

[Float: Activated]

Golden light swirled around his legs and his body became weightless. He descended like a feather, drifting down and landing lightly on the tip of his toes.

His sword swirled around him, the ethereal blade glowing and crackling with black and gold power.

A lone hound that had been guarding the entrance to the monastery turned to face him. It snarled, showing rows of sharp teeth and yellow eyes.

It moved slowly toward him, jaws open wide, ready to bite.

Talasin raised his sword and as the shadow hound leapt at him, he spun and brought the blade down on the creature. His sword passed through the beast, splitting it in two and sinking deep into the ground.

He heard a door open and frantic footsteps running towards him. He grabbed the pommel of the sword with two hands, trying to draw it out of the ground.

Something slammed into him and arms wrapped around his body.

A moment of panic threatened to overwhelm him, and then a sweet scent filled his nostrils and red hair wiped around his face.

Garnet held him close, her breath warm against his neck.

Talasin turned to face her. He saw the joy he felt at seeing her reflected in her own eyes. He took her into his arms and kissed her.

She gasped in surprise, and he pulled back, unsure if he had gone too far.

“I shouldn’t have,” he said.

Garnet pushed a stray stand of hair over her ear and smiled up at him.

“What took you so long,” she breathed.

He wasn't sure if she meant the tower or the kiss.

She pressed her lips against his and her hands roamed over his back, pulling him close.

Finally, she pulled back and smiled up at his beaming face,

“Is that a new sword? She asked, glancing over his shoulder. "Or are you just happy to see me?"

He laughed, and she lifted herself up and kissed him again.

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