Luca stepped into the tower, and unease settled in. The air was unnaturally still. The stone floor felt distant beneath his feet, as if he walked in a place that wasn't quite real. He closed his eyes, trying to reach out with his senses, to feel the presence of Luminis that flowed through all things in the world.
Nothing.
No pulse, no warmth, no presence.
It was as if the tower was a void. Worse than emptiness.
He opened his eyes again. The walls loomed before him. Painted perfection. Symbols twisted across the stone, curling like living vines. Strange markings ran across the stone, curling and twisting into symbols he didn't recognize.
As Luca's footsteps echoed through the tower's emptiness, a different darkness swallowed the lean man, Tarin who had followed Luca with two others. The air was filled with silence. He stumbled forward, hands outstretched, desperate for a lifeline.
"Hello?" he shouted, "Can anyone hear me?"
His voice echoed, bouncing off unseen walls.
No reply.
Then, a flicker of light. A mansion, glowing faintly in the void. His breath caught.
He ran towards it.
Feet pounding the unseen floor, heart drumming in his chest, he sprinted toward the mansion.
Inside, it was like nothing he had ever known. Rich velvet curtains. Tall, polished halls. Light spilling through golden chandeliers. The scent of jasmine and old wood, warm and heavy.
He had grown up in the ash-baked gutters of the city's lower quarter. This? This was a dream spun from silk and gold.
Room after room, hallway after hallway, luxury welcomed him like an old friend. He laughed, spinning in the centre of a grand hall. Then, a treasure room.
Gold, silver, jewels. Silks. Things with names he'd never learned, glittering under soft light.
Tarin dropped to his knees. Tears welled in his eyes.
"Is this real?" he whispered. "Am I in heaven?"
The golden light dimmed, as if exhaling. The velvet curtains rustled, now threadbare. The furniture creaked, warped, twisted. A cold draft swept through the room.
Then, it all rotted.
Curtains tearing, chandeliers crashing, walls curling inward like burnt paper.
He stood frozen, his smile faltered, eyes widening as the golden light dimmed. A chill crept up his spine, and his breath caught in his throat.
And then, a laugh.
Dry, low, crawling.
It echoed through the broken halls.
Tarin ran, crashing through door after door, but each room was worse. Empty, mould-covered, drenched in shadows. It was like something was coming for him.
He ducked under the grand staircase, with his chest heaving, and eyes wide.
Then he saw it.
At the top of the stairs, framed in moonlight pouring through shattered glass, a figure.
Tall, silent, shrouded in black.
"No… no, please…" Tarin whispered.
He ran. It followed.
He begged. It didn't stop.
He cried. It came closer.
Cornered at last in a shattered parlour, he turned to face it. The figure stepped forward into the moonlight.
And he saw the face.
If it could be called that.
Melted, twisted, pitted with holes, like wax left too close to fire. Its eyes were empty. Its mouth was wrong.
Tarin's scream shattered the air, his body trembling with primal fear. The sound echoed through the mansion's husk, fading into an oppressive stillness. The moon hung low in the sky, casting an icy glow over the ruined mansion.