Roland weighed his wallet as the cab drove off. Things were getting a little light.
It’s been a while since I’ve pulled from my savings. Well, I suppose I should visit the bank when we’re done here.
They stood on the steps of the Tower, the monolithic cylinder that dominated the center of Ars Moran. Half a mile in diameter, the dark green surface of its walls was smooth, unbroken save by the unadorned double-doors that served as the Tower’s only entrance. There were no windows. The walls had no carvings, no engravings, no symbols to decipher, no ornamentation to proclaim its purpose.
Roland had always found it more odd than awe-inspiring. Because inside, the Tower wasn’t this imposing, this dark, this oppressive. Inside, the Tower was beautiful, bright, inviting, and wondrous. Why should such beauty be contained within such a foreboding cage?
“Amazing,” Enrique breathed, gazing in awe.
“Yeah,” Erika chimed in, equally transfixed.
“How’s this gonna work?” Tsubasa asked. “Will they just let us all in? And can we even get in so late at night?”
“It’ll be all right,” Roland said. “Tuning Assistants and others who aren’t regular line workers come in to work at any time. We make our own hours, for the most part. They’ll let me in. And guests are more than welcome. Coming here so late might be to our benefit — there shouldn’t be too many people working, so we should be able to find and investigate the lighthouse without too much scrutiny.”
“Lead the way,” Muirrach said.
Roland strode up the wide stairs to the double doors, and pushed them open, leading the group into the Tower’s reception area. It was a charming contrast from the imposing outdoor façade. Light blue tiled floors led to a polished wood reception desk. On either end of the desk, crystals were growing in vases like potted plants, shedding a soft blue glow.
Behind the desk stood a petite young woman in the dark blue uniform of the Tower, with a silver badge pinned to her jacket’s lapel, denoting a military rank: First Lieutenant. Her dark hair was done up in a functional twist, and her intelligent brown eyes lit up with recognition at the sight of Roland. She pushed up her silver-framed glasses and smiled.
“Roland!” she said. “It’s good to see you again. What brings you here at such a late hour?”
“Hello, Sharla,” Roland said. “I have some friends who talked me into giving them a tour. I know it’s late, but I always did enjoy the Tower most at night.”
“Likewise,” Sharla said. “And don’t worry — Maestro Potter isn’t here tonight. He’s been looking for you, you know. Those lesser fantasian reports are rather overdue.” She gave him a sympathetic look.
“Yes, well, I’m… working on it,” Roland said with a half-hearted chuckle. “Anyway…”
“He promised he’d take us on a tour!” Erika said, grasping Roland’s hand and fixing an earnest, pleading gaze on Sharla. “He can, can’t he?”
Sharla laughed. “Of course he can,” she said. “Just sign them in, Roland, and you’re free to proceed.”
“Oh, thank you ever so much!” Erika said, beaming. She nudged Enrique with her foot, and he smiled and gave his thanks, as well.
Roland signed them in — a simple matter of writing down their names and what time they arrived, which was 1:23 in the morning. Then they proceeded through the next set of doors into a long corridor.
“We can’t tell her what we’re looking for?” Erika asked in a whisper.
“We don’t know who we can trust,” Tsubasa said. “And asking about a lighthouse could raise a lot of questions. We don’t need any extra attention.”
“Right,” Roland said. “The coordinates indicated the bottom of the Tower, the centrifuge itself. That’s very strange — I’ve never heard of or seen a lighthouse down there, and I’ve been to the crystal core on three separate occasions.”
“So how do we find it?” Enrique asked.
“We’ll just have to look more closely than I ever did,” Roland said. They reached the end of the corridor, and Roland placed his hands on the door. “Now, are you ready for your special tour?”
“Yes!” Erika and Enrique said with matching enthusiasm.
Roland pushed open the doors, and they stepped out into a world of wonder. A vast, open circular floor, half a mile across, was broken up by spiraling pillars and organized into four different quadrants. One was clearly for storage, with neatly organized shelves and racks of technological equipment. Two were for different types of production, with tables and workstations set up, some of them with partially assembled devices of all kinds resting on them, awaiting workers to arrive to complete what they’d begun the day before. The final quadrant was full of computer stations and various apparatus to connect devices to computers for final testing and analysis. These four quadrants were spaced around the center of the room, which housed a large industrial lift, as well as a spiraling staircase descending to lower floors.
The real wonder of this place, though, was the glittering, crystalline ceiling and the many translucent forms of lesser fantasians fluttering about, their butterfly-like wings patterned in beautiful designs, each pair unique. There were no other people on this first floor, but the fantasians made the space feel as lively as if it were full of people — if quite a bit less noisy than it would be.
“Fantasians!” Erika cried. “What kind are these?”
“Wind,” Roland said, smiling as Vi sang excitedly in his heart, resonating with the fantasians that were connected to her domain. “Wind is a powerful conveyor of sound and resonance, so wind fantasians gravitate towards a place like this, where so many crystals are born, nurtured, and installed into machinery for use beyond these walls. Their help is greatly appreciated, especially their enthusiasm in singing to crystals still gestating, and helping nurture young crystals towards their purpose.”
“They’re just gemstones at a glance,” Erika said, “but crystals really are full of possibility and purpose, aren’t they? They’re part of all sorts of technology, and they can even resonate with people’s souls.” She touched her chest, where her soul crystal rested on its chain beneath her shirt.
“They are far more than they appear, that’s for sure,” Roland said, smiling. Oh, he did love being here. Especially when it was so vacant. The less of his colleagues around, the better he was able to enjoy this house of crystal birthing, nurturing, study, and development. There was a song in the air — so many songs, all in perfect harmony. Fantasians singing softly, crystals humming with their own internal songs… the Tower was full of sound, a resonance of life filling the space.
“What’s this floor for?” Erika asked.
“This is for final assembly, testing, and preparing of the technologies we develop in the Tower,” Roland said. “It’s here that a whole host of devices and appliances are finished and then sent out into the world. It’s especially quiet up here because this is the floor for the line workers — the ones who work reasonable, predictable hours.”
“So the real magic happens below us,” Enrique said, eyeing the industrial lift in the center of the room excitedly.
“I’ve never seen so many fantasians in one place,” Tsubasa said, laughing as a wind fantasian — about as tall as the length of her forearm — fluttered up to her, its wings creating a breeze that blew Tsubasa’s ponytail about. The fantasian seemed to giggle mischievously, and then flew off to dance with the others. “And there must be even more below, huh?”
“That’s right,” Roland said. “There are a total of seven floors in the Tower. This is the top floor, for assembly and final testing and shipping. Below this is the manufactory, the foundation of the production pipeline. Major and minor components are assembled there, and the overall workflow is organized before shipping the components and orders up to this floor. Below that are two floors dedicated to research and development, along with our extensive archives. Then you have the crystal nursery, where newly-born crystals are cared for. As they develop to their purpose, we help to nurture and attune them towards their greatest aptitudes. That floor also serves as a center for researching the life cycle of crystals and crystal development. Below that is the crystal hatchery, where new crystals are grown and born. And finally below that, we have the centrifuge, within which is the crystal core that powers the Tower.”
“Which floor do you work on?” Erika asked. “It’s gotta be one of the research floors, right?”
“Nope,” Tsubasa said. “It’s the nursery, isn’t it? You’re a Tuning Assistant. Your role is tuning and nurturing the crystals.”
“That’s right,” Roland said, and he felt the familiar pride in his work — and the reason why he didn’t take the tests for promotion. It was in the nursery, helping tune new songs and their instruments — the crystals — nurturing new life and guiding it towards its fullest potential, that he found his greatest joy.
“Then let’s go there as fast as we can!” Erika said.
“We should see everything,” Enrique said, still amazed by the sights around him on this first floor.
“We should find the lighthouse,” Muirrach said. “A tour is wonderful, and I’m fascinated by this place, too. But we shouldn’t forget our purpose.”
There was a slight wariness in his tone, and Roland cast a questioning glance Muirrach’s direction. He saw Muirrach looking around the first floor with a cautious eye, considering every detail with his guard up.
Does he think we might be in danger?
The thought hadn’t crossed Roland’s mind. Danger would have come from without — if they had pursuers, they would attack them before they had entered the Tower, or when they left. Reunion couldn’t infiltrate the Tower. Security here was far more potent than the single gentle-seeming woman at the reception desk made it seem. Sharla knew Roland and trusted him, but there was a reason she held a military rank, when those who worked inside the Tower proper did not. Even if it was Roland, if she had detected any danger or threat from his guests, they never would have made it past the reception area. Roland had sat in on some of the threat-assessment and counter-terrorism training that the Tower’s Security Corps went through as part of his education, and he had been astonished. Sharla’s gentle smile and kind laughter hid a blade of sharpest steel.
“We can continue down further,” Roland said, leading the way forward. “There are far more interesting sights than assembly workstations.” As he led, he cast a glance at Tsubasa. And he noticed, beneath her joyful, admiring air, there was a caution in her, too. Subtle, but he’d come to know her well enough to spot it.
He wanted to ask her and Muirrach what had them worried. But he didn’t want to worry the twins. They’d been through so much lately. If there was danger here in the Tower, they would have to face it. But if there wasn’t, there was no reason to add unnecessary tension into the twins’ lives. Let them enjoy this “tour,” for the moment at least.
Roland was going to take them down the stairs, but when Erika begged him to let them ride the industrial lift, he acquiesced. The lift was large enough for a pair of double-decker buses to park in it with room between them for a whole crowd of people, and sturdy enough for more than ten times the weight of that hypothetical load. Roland disengaged the locks and pulled the lever, which caused the crystals within the twin motors to hum to life, shedding a bright blue glow. A moment later, the lift started descending, its first lurch eliciting delighted gasps from the twins. It descended on smooth cables, not clunking or grinding or making awful noises. It was loud, but in a steady, strong hum that didn’t grate on the ears or give one a headache.
As they started descending, Tsubasa came up beside Roland and whispered in his ear, just loud enough for him to hear, “Do your Fantasians sense anything out of the ordinary?”
Roland consulted with the Fantasians within him.
“The lift’s loud,” Vi sang, giving what amounted to a shrug in Roland’s heart. “Everything seems like normal.”
“It’s like we never left,” Kirin concurred. He and Vi had been in the Tower numerous times before, after all — Roland had formed Pacts with them over six years ago, and during his break from the Path of the Eight, he’d spent much of his time losing himself in his work here.
“Viatos, your brethren are too noisy,” sang Jurall with imposing authority. “It’s hard for me to concentrate with them laughing and joking. Quiet them for a moment.”
“No,” Vi sang with characteristic obstinacy. “You’re the Lord of the First Quartet. Your senses shouldn’t be dulled by something as trivial as everyday conversation. Where’s all that power you boast about?”
“Is that any way to talk to your Lord?” Jurall asked.
“I belong to Roland, now,” Vi replied, “as are you. We’re equals in his heart. So I get to tell you what I really think about you, you big, brutish —”
All right, let’s try to be civil, please. Shureen? Do you notice any cause for alarm?
“This place feels like Wonderia,” Shureen sang thoughtfully. “But it is also not. A strange place. I do not think it is as it should be. But whatever happened here was done ages ago. For the here and now… the crystal core sings its song well and properly. And the fantasians are unconcerned. I should think they would notice something wrong in a place they are so familiar with.”
“True,” Vi sang proudly. “They’re a discerning bunch.”
Roland shook his head, returning his attention to Tsubasa. “They don’t notice anything,” he said softly. “What’s got you worried?”
“Dunno,” Tsubasa said. “Just a feeling. But Muirrach’s got it, too.”
“It’s something beyond what’s right,” Muirrach said, on Roland’s other side. “Beneath the joyful songs, beneath all the ordinary hum of crystal resonance, there’s a… quietude. Something is quiet, when it shouldn’t be. But I can’t place it.”
“Huh,” sang Vi. “Interesting. I don’t hear it. Well, I mean, I wouldn’t, because it’s quiet, but I don’t not hear it. You know what I mean. The fantasians don’t notice it, either. But Muirrach’s got a great voice. An even better ear. It’s the sensitive ones you’ve gotta trust most.”
Roland agreed with that sentiment. He listened closely, but even though he prided himself on his excellent ear, he didn’t notice anything untoward in the songs throughout the Tower. He didn’t notice the quiet.
“Does this lift go all the way down to the centrifuge?” Tsubasa asked.
“It can, but it requires an emergency override to go below the manufactory,” Roland said. “I don’t have clearance. There’s a personnel lift in the manufactory, though. That’ll get us there — and it’ll be less conspicuous than a giant freight lift.”
“Let’s do that, then,” Tsubasa said. “If all is well, we can have a proper tour when we’re coming up from the lighthouse. But we should do what we came for first. Just in case.”
Roland nodded. He hoped they’d get the chance for that tour — he did so love the Tower at night, and this late was perfect. No Maestro Potter chasing after Roland for his next overdue report. None of the usual suspects of bullies, ladder-climbers, and social gossips to bring him down. There would be some still here working on the research levels, in the nursery, and in the hatchery. But they’d be the quiet ones, the more independent, introspective, introverted ones.
Roland’s kind of people.
The lift came to a stop at the manufactory, which had an even higher, towering ceiling than the assembly floor above. Here were all sorts of grand, gigantic machinery in various states of production. Huge industrial vehicles, personal automobiles, and even a prototype for a personal flying craft, a small vessel with wings that a very rich patron hoped would be the future beyond the larger, slower airships currently in use for the limited aerial transport available in the world — all of these inventions dominated the floor, and their immense size and attention-grabbing presence drew the eye away from the veritable horde of personal appliances, personal computers, and various computational and technological devices for personal and professional use filling the manufactory.
Enrique was ready to run off and explore right away — he had a fascination with machinery, a mindset Roland could well relate with — but Roland went ahead and told the twins the plan. “We’ll head down the centrifuge first,” he said. “Let’s see if we can find our lighthouse. Prioritize our main objective — and then, when that’s done, we can do a bottom-up tour. Which really is the best way to do it! You get to see things in their proper flow, from the birth of a crystal to its application into real-world use.”
“Ooh, that sounds fantastic!” Erika said. “Don’t you think so, Enrique? And then, that way, you can check out all of these machines last.”
“Save the best for last” seemed to be a very compelling argument to Enrique’s mind. He hesitated a moment, but then, with a force of will, turned to Roland and nodded resolutely. “Let’s hurry up and find that lighthouse,” he said.
So Roland led them aside to the doors to the personnel lift, which unfortunately was completely enclosed. Unlike a lot of lifts in use today, with their slatted grate doors that one could see through, or even the modern glass-doored lifts being introduced into the luxurious museums throughout Gransoir, the Tower’s lift had a steel door that shut closed, blocking out any view of the world beyond during the duration of its descent.
Which meant they now had a somewhat lengthy ride in a metal box, unable to see anything outside, and without any decorations or music within to give the experience some cheer. Roland had always found the design rather baffling. There was so much beauty and life and joy in the Tower — why have the lift, which saw so much use day in and day out, be just some lifeless metal box?
Count on Tsubasa to provide the cheer they needed. As the lift began its downward journey, she started to tap out a rhythm on her legs. She eyed her companions encouragingly, invitingly, tapping out the rhythm over and over again, drilling it into their heads. Erika was the first to take up the invitation, joining her in the drumming. Roland joined next, then Enrique, and finally Muirrach. Tsubasa started to drum out variations, and Roland added some variations of his own, giving their impromptu percussion session more texture and depth.
Then Tsubasa started to sing. Not a song of words, just a melody, bright and bouncy, full of joy. She sang through a stanza, and when she repeated it, Roland and Muirrach joined in, Muirrach immediately finding beautiful, warm harmonies with his rich, lovely voice. The twins even eventually joined in, Erika with a light, airy, earnest voice, and Enrique with a thoughtful tone, determined not to make mistakes.
Everyone had smiles on their faces, and when the lift came to a stop, and the doors slid open, they continued through their current stanza until the end, letting the final notes ring out. Erika burst into applause, and then the rest joined in, and then they were all laughing.
“You guys are the best,” Tsubasa said, wiping laughter-induced tears from her eyes. “So. Shall we find our lighthouse?”
“We shall!” Erika proclaimed, pumping her fist in the air.
They stepped out of the lift into a small antechamber, which held a large circular metal door, inlaid with elegant Elysian script on musical staves. Beside the door was a computer console, and Roland approached it, entering his credentials and an access code. There was a musical chime, and the metal door slid open, revealing yet another circular door beyond it, and a new console next to that one.
“How many doors are there?” Erika asked as Roland entered his credentials and this door’s access code, opening that one to reveal a third door and console.
“Seven,” Roland said. “Seven doors into the centrifuge, guarding the Tower’s crystal core. The core is vital to sustaining the Tower’s life and function. It isn’t only to protect it from physical harm; there are all sorts of ways to corrupt a crystal of this magnitude, and such corruption would be devastating to the Tower and the crystals it grows within it. Normally, a Second Level Tuning Assistant wouldn’t be able to access the core on his own, but I’ve been granted special privileges.”
“Because you are a Summoner,” Muirrach said.
“Yes,” Roland said. He finished opening the fourth door, and turned to look at Muirrach. Something in the way he said that made him pause. He caught a look in Muirrach’s eyes, and a cold dread trickled through his veins.
I was accepted to the Academy because of my excellent grades and on the strength of my proposal essay, which Alystair helped coach me through. I know I earned my place there.
But working at the Tower… I wasn’t in the right frame of mind when I took my test. I scored far lower than I should have. And far lower than should have been acceptable. I didn’t find it strange at the time, and I started as an Understudy, but…
I advanced to Tuning Assistant in less than a year.
What was the common thread? What have I constantly been set to work on, what has been the reason for Maestro Potter’s fixation on me, when any other Second Level Tuning Assistant would never even warrant a glance from him?
I’m a Summoner. I’m on the Path of the Eight. I had Pacts with Kirin and Vi when I took the test to work at the Tower. They knew that. And they’ve asked of me tasks that require my unique abilities.
But… that’s fine, isn’t it? I’m uniquely qualified for certain specialized tasks. Summoners are not common, and many fail on the Path, give up, and relinquish their Pacts and powers. I’ve never used my status to my advantage to try and get special treatment here at the Tower. No one’s ever taken advantage of me, either, so to speak. There is more asked of me, but not outrageously so.
“Roland?” Tsubasa asked.
“Sorry,” Roland said, shaking his head. He started to enter in the code for the fifth door, but Tsubasa put her hand over his, stopping him.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I…” Roland started.
There have been moments. Maestro Potter has asked several times if I would ever “finish up the Path and gain the powers of the entire First Quartet.” But of course he would. Those powers would prove incredibly beneficial to our research. Fantasians, and the lesser fantasians, and the crystals, are all deeply interlinked.
But could there be more to the questions? Others have asked, too. It’s a common query — “When will you go back and form Pacts with Shureen and Jurall?”
“I’m not sure,” Roland said, shaking his head. He entered in his credentials and access code, and the fifth door rolled open. “And either way, we need to reach the lighthouse.”
“True,” Tsubasa said.
“What’s wrong?” Enrique asked.
“Maybe nothing,” Tsubasa said.
“But maybe something,” Enrique shot back.
“There are strange things going on here,” Roland said, opening the sixth door. “I don’t know why, but… we might be in danger.”
“Danger?” Erika asked.
“If there are coordinates your parents could locate from New Elysia pointing to the lighthouse down here,” Roland said, “then they can’t possibly be the only ones who know about it. I’ve never seen evidence of a lighthouse down here, but I don’t know as much as the higher-ups. Someone knows. And they’ve kept it a secret.”
“But why?” Erika asked. “Should we even be doing this, if it’s dangerous?”
“We have to reach Elysia,” Enrique said. “And our parents said that this was how to do it.”
“Right,” Roland said. He opened the sixth door, and they stood before the seventh and final door. “So we proceed, but proceed with caution.” He looked at all of them, especially Tsubasa, who already had her tonfas in hand. “Everyone ready?” Affirmations went around, and Roland opened the seventh door. As the heavy metal door rolled open, he softly hummed the openings to the hymns of each of his four Fantasians. It was a way of priming their power, preparing it for use, so if he needed their power soon, he could sing smaller portions of their hymns to let the power flow through him.
The door was opened. The way forward was clear. They stepped together out onto a high balcony, Roland in the lead, Muirrach in the center, close to the twins, and Tsubasa taking up a rear guard position. Roland rested his hands on the balcony’s railing, looking out over the wide, cylindrical chasm below. The base of the chasm was a floor of smooth crystal, like polished glass. And floating in the center, just above that glassy floor, was a massive, perfectly round crystal, a great orb that shone brightly, bathing the whole space in a cerulean blue.
“That’s the crystal core?” Enrique asked in a soft, awed voice.
“Yes,” Roland said. “And at its base is an interface. That will be where our investigations start. Wherever this lighthouse is, the core must know. Come on.”
He led the way down a staircase to the floor of the chamber. Their footsteps clinked softly on the glassy surface as they approached the great crystal, floating nearly ten feet off the floor of its own power. It was astonishing in size, as big as any of the greatest mansions in Ars Moran. Beneath it were no shadows, because its light reflected off of the glassy floor, creating a path of light. A path that tore all shadows asunder.
A pedestal stood below the crystal, and Roland approached that. The interface was a computer, but this computer was activated by resonance, not by tactile input. Thankfully, Roland had been trained to interface with the core, and while he’d only done it twice, for very short periods, he knew exactly what to do. He rested his hands on the surface of the interface, and then sang the complex, rhythmic melody that served as the passcode to activate the interface. It lit up, chiming a melody in response, and then the display showed a variety of options.
“Ah, here we go,” Roland said. “A topographical scan. That should reveal the lighthouse.”
“You’ve never done that before?” Enrique asked.
“I’ve never had a reason to,” Roland said. “Honestly, I thought the option seemed rather redundant. For all I knew then, I knew every corner of the Tower. What would a scan show me that I didn’t already know?” He shook his head. “There are always secrets. Secrets that need greater powers to illuminate than our own perceptions.” He sang the short melody to activate the topographical scan, and a moment later, the display showed the results. It was a map of the centrifuge and core chamber, as well as the rest of the Tower. Roland looked it over, pinpointing the coordinates he was meant to search.
“What is it?” Erika asked, seeing his confusion.
“I don’t understand,” Roland said, his brow furrowing. “There’s… nothing.”
“Nothing?” Tsubasa asked, looking over the diagram. “Wait, that’s… but that doesn’t make any sense. The coordinates said the lighthouse was here. There should at least be ruins, or remains, or… something. But there’s nothing. No sign at all.”
“Can you do a search?” Muirrach asked. “Look for any references to lighthouses or focusing stones.”
“Focusing stones?” Tsubasa asked.
“The true power within the lighthouses,” Muirrach said. Roland did as requested, singing out his query in Elysian.
The results came back. Or, rather, didn’t. Because there was nothing. No information on lighthouses. Nor on focusing stones.
“What’s going on here?” Tsubasa asked. “They had the coordinates. They lead here. How can there just be nothing?”
“Because the coordinates were a lie,” came the booming voice of Wilfred Molina Potter, Maestro of the Tower.
Roland turned stiffly, a horrifying realization twisting his heart in knots. He looked up, at the high balcony, where the Maestro himself stood, fat hands planted on the railing, looking down pompously upon them. Flanking him was a whole brigade of Security Corps officers, and right at his side…
“Sharla?” Roland asked, staring in shock. She’d always been kind to him, always welcoming. But that smile when she’d greeted him tonight… had she already known? Was that, too, a trap for him?
“I’m terribly sorry for the deception, Roland,” Sharla said. And she truly looked and sounded it. “But the Board identified you as a security risk after you were sighted with the twins.”
“A security risk?” Roland asked, his voice rising in shock and indignation. “You can’t be serious!” And then his eyes widened. “The twins…?” He looked at Maestro Potter, whose lips were curled in an arrogant sneer.
“Now you see,” he said. “The coordinates their parents received? A lie, devised by me. Meant to lead them here. They didn’t show up after their departure from New Elysia, and for years we wondered if they ever would. Perhaps our information about their intentions were wrong. But then I saw you with the twins, and I realized it was only a matter of time before they finally figured it out and came running here, in search of a lighthouse to Elysia.”
“There’s no lighthouse,” Roland said, the shock still overwhelming him. “But… why? I don’t understand. Why would you do this? And how could you know about them? About New Elysia?”
“Now, now, Assistant Roland,” Maestro Potter said, clucking his tongue. “I can’t go revealing all my secrets, can I? You’ve proven far too resourceful to let you have all the information. I’m going to make this very simple for you. Surrender yourself and the twins to me, and your other friends can go free. No harm will come to any of you, I promise. I need you alive and unspoiled, after all.”
Roland didn’t for a second consider his proposal. He stepped back into a combat stance, starting to hum his Fantasian’s hymns.
“Don’t be hasty, Assistant Roland!” Maestro Potter boomed. Security Corps officers raised crystal-tipped wands, charged with magical light. Others on the stairs drew crossbows engraved with Elysian script — specialized magic lending them various powerful abilities beyond their conventional purpose. Maestro Potter clucked his tongue. “Earth and wind will not avail you here. Surrender. We don’t want anyone harmed.”
Earth and wind?
And Roland realized his foes had made a grave error.
They don’t know that I continued the Path. They don’t know that I’ve formed Pacts with Shureen and Jurall.
They have no idea what I’m truly capable of.