Amelia approached the jagged rocks that were pointed at the sky like gargantuan spikes. They slanted away from a shallow crater in the mountain rock, as if a small meteor had blasted into the ground around which they congregated.

The air about them held a welcome warmth; Amelia had been traversing the cold forest for days with only a light coat to protect her from the wind, rain, and icy air. Sniffling and rubbing her hands together, she scanned the ground for debris that could catch on her feet and send her sprawling. Eerily, she found nothing in her path. No twigs or pebbles or fallen leaves. Not even a blade of grass. It seemed as if this area was the only welcoming part of this gloomy, grey forest sprawl.

Wrapping her coat tighter around her body, Amelia continued down the path until she espied the distant tower peeking through the jagged rocks. The path toward the looming structure weaved left and right, as if it had been constructed to delay its visitor’s arrival as much as possible.

Amelia walked up the gentle incline for another ten minutes before she reached the entrance to the tower. Tall and imposing, the wooden door was blacker than night, framed by chipped stones whose remains were being devoured by a thick, dark moss that looked sticky and poisonous.

“The mottlemoss attack is insidious,” she remembered her mother, Alba, telling her. “As soon as you touch it, no matter whether you can see or feel it, it starts to eat you from the inside out. You’ll only find out they’ve got you once they start rising to the surface under your skin and, by then, you’re already half gone. STAY AWAY.”

Even now, Alba’s gruesome description made Amelia shudder. Taking care not to touch the door frame, Amelia grasped the iron knocker and brought it down on the door three times, hearing its deep sound reverberate through the interior. If she had not been here before, she never would have noticed the knocker; it was as black as the door and hung a foot above her head.

As the loud echoes dissipated, Amelia stepped back to get a better view of the tower. The first time she came here had been over a year ago, and she had never made it inside. She had knocked and waited outisde the door for an hour before deciding that no one was home. It had looked even more decrepit and abandoned back then. Surely, she had reasoned, no one had lived here for years.

But, recently, the council that was in charge of finding her mother discovered new information about the Celestial Tower—including that it was called the Celestial Tower. They were able to confirm that Isabella Vause, the last woman who had seen Alba alive, still resided there. She had been spotted from overhead by another sorceress on a flying carpet.

Sorcerers held no allegiance to anyone so, as soon as she touched ground, the sorceress paid a visit to the council to exchange her information for a bucket of gelidous crabclaws the she intended to use in a spell to invoke the sea god Agwe.

Amelia did not believe in pandering to the gods but, that day, she couldn’t help mumbling a quick, “Thank you, Agwe.” Without the god’s narcissistic need to be served and presented with offerings and sacrifices, that sorceress probably never would have bothered to let the council know about Isabella Vause.

After waiting a full three minutes, Amelia reached up to knock again, but the door opened soundlessly onto the base of an ill-lit stairwell whose steps spiraled into the dark heavens.

Despite the lack of light, the air that greeted Amelia’s face was pleasantly warm, reminding her of evenings by the fire when she could bask in the warm glow of the flames and watch the cold flurries of snow through the window. The welcoming warmth encouraged her to step forward and begin her ascent into the unknown rooms above.

Tiny points of light floated close to the bottom of the stairwell wall, twinkling serenely as they emitted just enough light for her to see every third step along the way.

Amelia climbed higher and higher, without encountering any rooms or floors along the way. _Could it be it’s just the one room at the top? _she wondered, asking herself how many more steps she had to climb.

“Hello?” she called into the darkness. Her voice echoed back to her, making the stairwell seem more cavernous than it was.

Fortunately, before long, she reached the landing and was greeted by a simple wooden door. It had no ornamentation, unless one counted the two blazing torches flanking it on both sides.

Amelia inspected the door and the surrounding walls for mottlemoss before knocking on the door with three brisk raps. _All clear_.