The Spire

I’ve…been here before.


I look up at the giant spire before me, a towering, crooked structure of some otherworldly brick and mortar. Fog wraps around it in a gentle embrace, shrouding any path that may lead to or from it.


I step hesitantly. The air is uncertain, the ground is sure to be the same. One wrong move and the fog takes you, leads you away with its gentle hands until all you have left is your wits, yet even those fade with time.


I take two more steps, a leap and a hop. I can feel the grip of my sword slick with sweat. I clench my fingers around it tighter, clutching the freshly-sharpened blade to my side.


Silence. If anything moves in a hundred yard radius, I can hear. Yet all is still. Each light-footed step I take clamors through the fog.


This twisted place, this jagged spire, was once my home. A cell at its lowest depth, no food, no water, is where I was kept. Then, one day, I was bound no longer.


Buried in an unmarked grave in the rocky wake of this ungodly place, I found myself.


Now, a knight of shadow and sin, I reap the vengeance others cannot seek. In this spire, my comrades, I will set you free.


I reach for the handle on the door, and yank it open.


Light floods into the fog like a spilled cup of sunlight. I ready my weapon and slip inside.


This spire, so crooked and tall, will fall by my sword.

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