The air was heavy with silence, a thick, suffocating stillness. In the distance, a lone tower loomed, its dark silhouette merging with the sky. Nothing surrounded it, only golden, withered plants swaying in the cold wind.
Val noticed it and stepped forward, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What is this?!"
The tower looked ancient, wrapped in creeping vines that pulsed with an eerie glow, as if infused with magic beyond comprehension. The stone itself seemed alive, breathing with arcane power. The door stood open, invites him inside.
...Inside, the air shimmered with unseen energy. Books floated in the dim light, suspended midair, their pages rustling as if whispering forgotten secrets. The scent of old parchment and something… unnatural filled his lungs.
Then, without warning....a sharp, sudden movement! A wizard's broom shot past him with a violent gust, twisting wildly before blasting through the open door into the night.
Shuuuuush...
Val crashed to the ground, heart hammering.
"Bloody hell! What was that?!"
He spun around, breath ragged, but nothing. The broom had vanished beyond the horizon, leaving only silence in its wake. Silence… and the unsettling feeling that something else was watching...
"Hey, traveler! What brings you to my humble tower?" the mysterious mage said, descending from the very top of the tower. His voice echoed with ancient power, as though it carried the weight of centuries.
The mage appeared to be an old man, his features sharp and worn with age, yet his eyes piercing and gleaming like shards of ice showed no sign of frailty. His long silver beard cascaded down to his waist, tangled in mysterious knots, as though the strands themselves carried hidden runes of forgotten power. His hair, equally silver, fell in wild, unkempt waves over his shoulders, seemingly touched by magic, never truly confined to one shape.
There was an unsettling aura about him, a presence that demanded attention. Though his frame was frail, almost skeletal, his very being seemed to radiate an immense, indescribable force. He wore a tattered black hat, the brim wide and ragged, a remnant of his once grand attire, now faded with time. Yet, the way he wore it seemed to say that it was his to keep, regardless of age or wear.
In his hand, he held a gnarled wooden staff, etched with symbols and runes that glowed faintly with a power far beyond mortal comprehension. It hummed with a soft, eerie energy, as though it were a living extension of the mage himself.
Val felt an overwhelming sense that this being was no mere human...he was something much older, much more ancient, and infinitely more powerful than anything he had ever encountered.
Val's hand instinctively went to his sword, fingers tightening on the hilt, but the mage raised a hand in a calming gesture.
"I have no intention of fighting," he said, his voice soft yet firm, as if the very air bent to his will.
Valen loosened his grip on his sword and let it fall back into its sheath. His eyes remained fixed on the mage as he spoke.
"What is this place?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with curiosity.
The mage arched a silver brow, studying Valen with an expression of mild surprise before answering.
"This is one of the Thirteen Towers of the World."
His words hung in the air like an unspoken riddle, charged with mystery and significance.
"This place... it's in the Abyss, isn't it?" Valen asked, his voice cautious, as if speaking the name aloud might awaken something lurking in the shadows.
The mage let out a quiet chuckle, his piercing eyes glinting with amusement.
"And where else would you expect to find a tower?" he replied, spreading his arms as if the answer was as obvious as the darkness surrounding them.
"Then what are you doing here?" Valen asked, narrowing his eyes at the mage.
The old man smirked, his silver beard shifting slightly as he tilted his head.
"Ah, a fair question," he murmured.
The mage's smirk widened as he adjusted his grip on his ancient staff.
"I'm seeking for magic items," he said, his voice calm yet filled with an unsettling curiosity.
Valen furrowed his brow. "You? A mage, searching for artifacts?"
The old man chuckled, the sound low and almost echoing through the dimly lit tower. "Even those who wield magic must seek more of it. Power is never truly complete, nor is knowledge..."
The mage's gaze bore into Valen as he raised three fingers.
"So answer me three questions, young one," he said, his voice carrying an ancient weight.
He lowered one finger. "How long do you plan to stay here?"
"Three days, perhaps… maybe five. Is that okay?" Valen asked, watching the mage carefully.
The old man slowly stroked his silver beard, eyes narrowing in thought.
"It's okay," he finally said, a sly smile forming on his lips. "But you're cooking."
"I can only cook coconut soup and pickled frog meat. Is that still okay?" Valen asked, raising an eyebrow.
The mage let out a deep chuckle, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
"That will do," he said. "As long as it doesn't kill me..."
"So where will I sleep?" Valen asked, crossing his arms as he waited for an answer.
The old mage let out a dry chuckle, tapping his staff against the stone floor.
"Outside, of course just like me," he said with a knowing smirk. "Otherwise, the books would suck you in."
Valen blinked. "Wait… what?"
The mage's smirk didn't fade as he nodded.
"Yes," he said matter-of-fact. "If you lose too much mana, the books will simply eat your flesh and bones."
Valen stiffened. "You're joking… right?"
The old man only chuckled, turning away. "Sleep inside if you dare, books are always hungry."
And so, Valen fell asleep outside, the cold stone beneath him and the vast sky above. The stars stretched out like distant, cold eyes, watching over him as he lay beneath their eternal gaze. The strange, old mage lingered inside, somewhere far in the shadows of the tower, his presence a haunting reminder of the mystery that enveloped this place.
Valen's thoughts drifted as the night deepened, his mind caught between curiosity and the lingering unease of the unknown. It was a night spent with an old, strange mage, but more than that, it was a night spent in a world where magic bled into the very fabric of existence....