Last Night,
The night was colder than it should've been.
Gareth's hands gripped the reins so tight his knuckles had gone white an hour ago. His horse—a stubborn gray mare who'd outlived two of his cousins—clip-clopped down the dirt road with all the enthusiasm of a man walking to his own execution.
Which, frankly, wasn't far from the truth.
"Come on, you mangy bitch," Gareth muttered, giving the reins a sharp tug. The mare snorted, unimpressed. "Just a bit faster. Please. For the love of—"
Then he saw it.
The Tower.
It rose from the horizon like some godless finger pointing at the sky, massive and impossible, glowing with swirling colors that had no business existing in nature. Purple. Pink. Violet light that pulsed like a heartbeat, casting long shadows across the barren landscape.
Gareth's jaw went slack. His horse reared slightly, whinnying in terror.
"What in the—"
