Gilgamel stood under the dome's faint rune-light, eyes darting from bubble to bubble. Dozens of treasures drifted in the air like lazy stars — some humming with gentle power, others whispering secrets he couldn't quite grasp.
He rubbed his chin, mumbling to himself, "So many choices…"
But as tempting as it was to just pick the shiniest thing, Gilgamel hadn't forgotten the real reason he'd dragged himself all the way up Eversnow Mountain.
The Golden Apple!
That was the goal, and that was the bait that had lured dozens of wandering wizards like moths to frozen flame.
Gilgamel frowned, then muttered: "Float!"
A faint swirl of wind spun beneath his boots, lifting him off the stone floor like a drifting feather.
He rose steadily into the air, drifting closer to the treasures that hovered like captive stars near the high dome.
