Jasper awoke to the crackle of meat over the fire, a savory scent invading his nostrils. With a yawn, he stretched his arms out, shaking the soreness out of his limbs. The hard temple floor was not the most comfortable of beds. Rubbing the bleariness from his eyes, he was surprised to see Aphora tending the fire. He sauntered over, his mouth watering in anticipation.

He dragged a still sizzling wing onto a tin plate and promptly took a bite. Fire resistance had its perks, after all. Ihra joined them at the fire, and while she waited on her food to cool, questioned Lady Aphora. “So what’s the plan for today?”

Aphora toyed with the food on her plate, before eventually replying. “My plan was to head straight to the Tower, but after our little adventure last night, it’s clear that I miscalculated a few things. I’ve been to the tower a few times before, but, in the past, I always traveled with other elves. Normally, the creatures largely ignored us when we traveled through the city, only attacking if we got too close. Occasionally, a few might be aggressive, but they never mobbed us like they did last night. Perhaps, on some level, they still sense that we were once kin. Your presence, however, seems to have changed the equation. We’ll need to proceed with more caution.”

“When we reach the Tower, we have to ascend it at night. And it’s clear now that, with you two here, the wraiths and wights are going to be a problem. I doubt you could survive a sustained attack from a large mob. So, the only solution I see is to spend the next few days culling their numbers during daylight. Today, we will head straight for the third ring and set up shop in a safe house there, the temple of our Lady. From there, we can slowly clear out as many of the wights as we can before attempting to enter the Tower.”

Jasper winced. They were supposed to help Aphora and, instead, it seemed that their presence was an albatross around her neck.

“Lady Aphora, if our presence is hindering your mission, we could make our way back to the guild expedition.”

She shook her head. “No, your presence has introduced some unfortunate complications, but it is also necessary.”

Necessary? You clearly don’t need us for protection, so why are we even here? She didn’t elaborate further. Jasper debated pushing her on it, but decided to let it drop. Truth be told, while he harbored suspicions about her intentions, he didn't feel confident that he and Ihra would be able to successfully navigate back through the city to find the guild expedition. And if night fell before they reached them? They’d be dead. For better or worse, their best bet at this point was to stick with Lady Aphora. There’s no way but forward.

Finishing his food, he stood up to pack their gear, but she gestured for him to sit down. “Meditate before we leave. The creatures here provide disappointingly little experience, but given your low levels, it might be sufficient anyways.

He was indeed a bit disappointed when he saw that he had only gained three levels, still fifteen levels short of acquiring his next reward, but he consoled himself with the thought that any progress, even if small, was still a step in the right direction. Satisfied for the time with his health, he decided to split the stat points between Inspiration and Willpower.

Jasper played with the idea of dumping all nine points into either Inspiration or Willpower. Reaching 50 would provide a boost to the amount of essence gained per point, so he’d come out temporarily ahead, but he wasn't sure how important it was to keep the stats fairly even with each other. He decided to play it safe and just split the points between them; he'd be able to get both stats over 50 in just two more levels anyway.

Jasper Welles (45)

Level up available: x0

Exp: 1400/1500

Health 1000

Stamina 1360

Essence 1700

Heritage(s)

Greater Djinn

Class(es)

Acolyte of the Secret Flame

Titles

The Blood Runs True

Betrothed of Kas̆dael

Survivor

Stats

Racial Traits

Class Abilities

Weapon Skills

Strength 30

Born of Flames

Sacred Star II

Improvised Weaponry I

Endurance 30

Uplifted

Purge

Sling V

Vision 20

Locked

Eternal Night II

Glaive IV→Glaive V

Inspiration 47

Locked

Fiery Shackles II

Willpower 48

Seraph Burst

Charisma 20

Once the two had finished meditating, the group set out into the city. Glimmers of sunlight broke through the storm clouds overhead, lighting up small patches on the pavilion. It was empty now; no sign of the gathered horde remained to be seen.

They passed through the second ring of the city much faster. It was smaller than the first, with a few palatial homes scattered beside grand temples and municipal buildings. The most frequent buildings here, though, were the strange towers that dominated the city’s skyline, the towers soaring so high that their tips disappeared into the low-hanging clouds.

A sense of unease permeated the city streets, inciting a touch of paranoia in Jasper. Whenever they passed one of the many temples, he could see the giant statues looming above the dark halls, still watching over their shattered homes. Their unseeing eyes stared at him with an oppressive weight, and the fear - no, the knowledge - that they were somehow alive sunk deep into his bones. Eventually, he refused to look in their direction, keeping his eyes glued to the path ahead.

It was only midday when the group arrived at the gate to the third ring of the city. The city had climbed high up the mountainside by now. The rain from yesterday had thankfully stopped, but the air was so cold that their breath billowed out in great plumes, before it was swiftly swept away by the harsh winds that howled through the narrow streets. The ground was covered in a crunchy blanket of snow, marred only by the tracks of their group, and the thorns on the great gate were coated in thick layers of ice. It took Jasper a bit more effort to clear the gate, and as the ice melted beneath the continuous river of fire, great clouds of steam and smoke poured up into the sky, announcing their presence to any and all who might be watching.

Yet, when they crossed the threshold of the gate into the inner city, the difference was immediately discernible. No snow covered the ground here, and no cold winds cut through their cloaks. Instead, the air hung heavy with an almost oppressive heat, the air still, without the faintest hint of a breeze.

The buildings had perhaps once been constructed from the same white stone as the city below, but most of their surface was covered in dark black streaks and swirls, far from the pristine conditions he had seen in the rest of the city. The paved stone street was buckled and cracked, as if an angry giant had pummeled it with his hammer. But perhaps the worst of it was the dense, hot fog, imbued with an acrid stench, that covered everything in sight, the fog so thick that it flowed almost like a river through the ruined city.

He gagged on the stench. “What happened here?”

“This is where the city died.” Aphora said no more, but as they picked their way through the broken streets, he could swear he saw the faint traces of tears running down her cheeks.

The final ring of the city was even smaller than the last, and they quickly arrived at their destination. The peak of the mountain had been shorn clean off, creating a large open forum at the top. Two great buildings dominated the forum, one on the north and the other on the south, staring each other down like snarling wolves.

The southern structure was the largest temple Jasper had seen in the city, or indeed, in Corsythia thus far. A pair of massive mastabas rose side by side, the space between them enclosed by a low stone wall. On each mastaba, an entrance sunk deep into the face of the building, the slanted sides opening up in giant arches whose pinnacles reached almost to the roof of the building. Every inch of the walls was covered in ornate metallic scrollwork, where all manner of strange creatures were depicted supplicating the moon. The Temple of Selene, I suppose.

But it was the building on the north side that drew his attention. Four great towers rose at each of its corners, each one more than a match in size for any they had seen elsewhere in the city. The towers arched upwards, curving inwards in the middle before flaring out at the top, capped with a transparent dome of carved crystal, from which an inexplicable light still shone.

But nestled in the middle of the four towers, a single tower rose, far greater in height and size than the rest. Its shape was the same as the others, but its sheer scale dwarfed the rest. There was something about the tower that felt old, inherently different from the rest, as if it had stood there since time began.

While the other towers were stained, their clean white facades marred by the same black smudges as the rest of the upper city, the central tower was untouched. Its stone still sparkled a pristine white that was utterly unaffected by whatever had ravaged the rest of the upper city. No obvious deity symbols or runes were etched into its walls, nor any sort of decoration. Indeed, there was nothing at all that hinted at the purpose of the grand edifice.

“What is that place? Surely no god would be allowed to have a temple larger than Selene’s in a city of Onkodan elves?” Jasper hadn’t meant to speak the words out loud, but they echoed through the scorched plaza, as he reined his horse in to get a better look at the towers.

“Indeed, no god would, but that is not a temple; it is the purpose of our trip, the Tower of Ysagil. The central tower is old beyond our ken; it was already here, waiting on the mountaintop, when the elves founded the city, and the whole city was built around it. You will see it soon enough, but it is not our destination today. For now, we must keep moving.”

Lady Aphora turned her mount towards the temple of Selene, heading for the mastaba on the left. Reluctantly Jasper followed, catching up to her and Ihra. As they neared the entrance, he could see that the walls were heavily damaged. Myriad cracks ran through the stained white walls of the temple, and in many places, large chunks of the engravings had fallen off, the once glossy silver turned to a dull grey.

“What happened to the city? The damage to this temple seems more extreme than what you’d expect from a normal siege, and the change in the weather seems clearly magical in nature. It shouldn’t be hot and windless on top of the mountain, while further down it is draped in snow."

"And the undead that swarm the city are what, normal?" Her eyes creased with a hint of amusement, but it was not enough to hide the pain that lurked behind.

Jasper flushed. "Well, yes...them too."

“When the Fey Wars broke out, Als̆arratu took no part in them. It remained neutral, trading with Corsyths and Fey alike. Its people believed they were safe. Why would the children of Tsiāhu attack their northern brethren? In secret, the government of Als̆arratu even provided occasional assistance to the Fey, hoping that while the Corsythians were distracted, they would be able to capitalize on a moment of weakness and integrate Gis̆-Izum into their own territory. But then, when the war seemed all but lost, Corsythians figured out how to create sanctums. Those great fortresses came at a terrible cost - a cost they still pay to this day - but with their population safely tucked away out of the reach of the Fey, the tide began to turn.”

“When the Fey armies reached Gis̆-Izum, they were enraged to find an empty city, the whole population safely sheltered in the Sanctum. Unable to vent their rage on the Corsyths, they turned their wrath towards us, to Als̆arratu. The guards in the passage, thinking the Fey had come to trade for food, were cut down before they could even give us warning. When the rampaging horde emerged from the passage, the city was barely able to close the gates in time. But they had made no preparation to face a Fey army - it was a hopeless battle.”

“Driven by desperation, the elven queen turned to a half-forgotten ritual her people once used. In the dead of night, high in the Tower of Ysagil, she performed a ritual to hide the entire city in a dimension of its own - much like the sanctums of the Corsyths, just on a larger scale. When she completed the ritual beneath the moonlight, the city disappeared into the void, vanishing before the eyes of the astonished Fey."

"It was a success. The city erupted in joy, feasting in the temple. And then, something went terribly wrong. Perhaps her knowledge of the ritual was incomplete in some way, or perhaps some element of the ritual was corrupted. A short time after the city slipped into a void, a fiery explosion ripped through its upper ring, leaving the scorched, ever-smoldering ruins we’re standing in. The force of the explosion tore through the city, smashing into the circle of protection surrounding it. Shattered, the city reemerged from the void. But the damage to the upper ring was nothing compared to the toll exacted on its populace. In an instant, they were killed, their lights blotted out as they were transformed into the mindless monstrosities that haunt its streets. Now their souls are trapped between two worlds, bound to both this plane and the other, unable to truly die unless they are slain in both.”

“But the fey received their just rewards in the end. When they entered the city, they found it bereft of inhabitants. They marched all the way up to the tower, where, feasting on their ill-gotten spoils, they spent the night in the temple of Selene, defiling it with their foul presence. But when the moon rose, the undead fell upon them. Not one of their soldiers escaped to tell the tale.”

Jasper listened to the story with rapt attention, but something about the narrative bothered him. “How do you know all of this? Didn’t everyone die?”

“There were a few within the city that, for some unknown reason, survived the change, and there were small populations of elves who lived outside the city - small hamlets, guard towers, merchants - who were not caught up in the calamity. Most of Als̆arratu was destroyed that day, but a remnant of survivors lived on.”

He opened his mouth to ask more questions, but the Lady cut him off. “We have discussed this enough for now. We need to secure our lodgings for the night, and plan for the hunt.”

As they rode through the great hall of the temple, Jasper was amazed by its size. Even mounted on a horse, he felt like an ant crawling across the floor. The entire interior of the mastaba was open, and the ceiling soared up to a height that no stone building on earth could achieve without crumbling beneath its own weight, utterly unsupported by any pillars or buttresses. At the pinnacle of the ceiling, a large section had been cut out, allowing the light from the sun to pour through, the rays reflecting in a large, shallow pool of water that occupied much of the floor. Around the pool, thousands of corpses, clad in rusting armor and weapons, littered the floor. The fey army?

The austerity of the temple surprised Jasper. Most of the architecture he had encountered thus far was extremely ornate, with exotic designs based on curving lines and arches rather than the straight lines that dominated modern American style. But the inside of the mastaba was clean and uncluttered, and lacking the curving lines that dominated so much of the elven city. Instead the straight white walls - marred as they were from the explosion - combined with the great skylight above and the large rectangular pool to give a distinctly modern, even sci-fi, look to the temple.

Jasper stared in unabashed wonder, as the fear that had gripped his heart earlier was wholly replaced with the thrill of adventure. And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move.