Deep within the Human Mage Tower.
After trials upon trials and a thousand perils, Lilith's party finally stepped into the innermost heart of the ruins—safe, if only just. Even so, their nerves were rattled; every step had courted danger, and they'd survived largely thanks to the stream of treasures Lilith kept producing at critical moments.
Outside, the relic's outer barrier had faded, and adventurers of many races were pouring into the lost domain. What greeted them was an equal variety of hazards and ordeals. Wounds, cripplings, and even deaths came one after another. Soon, the chorus of complaints from those who entered the Mage Tower became a tide.
"Lilith, wait."
Elarielle lifted a hand, a thread of caution in her voice. Her emerald eyes swept the seemingly empty hall.
"Master Elarielle, did you sense something?"
Lilith tightened her grip on the Holy Sword, scanning the stillness. The only moving shadows were those cast by the stone pillars—strangely quiet, unnaturally so.
