I try to ignore the whisper, but it grows stronger as we climb. More personal.
He believes he protects you. Poor fool. Does he not see? You are the weapon I will use to destroy him.
"Shut up," I mutter under my breath.
Krath glances back from where he leads our ascent. "What?"
"Nothing. Just... thinking."
But the voice doesn’t relent. If anything, my resistance seems to amuse it.
Look at him, little witch. See how his shoulders bear the weight of centuries. See how each step toward the tower costs him. You could end his suffering. One small sacrifice. One moment of courage.
Images flash through my mind—Krath in chains, watching Lyralei die. The same chains that could hold me while he’s forced to watch history repeat itself.
Unless you choose differently.
We reach a landing where the stairs branch in multiple directions. Krath pauses, studying the passages with a warrior’s eye for traps and ambush. But I’m studying him—the rigid set of his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches when he thinks I’m not looking.
He’s afraid.
Not of the tower or the bell or whatever waits above. He’s afraid of failing me the way he failed Lyralei.
Poor broken beast. If only he knew how simple the solution could be.
"This way," Krath says, choosing the passage that curves upward. "The air moves here. We’re close to the tower."
As we climb, the walls grow stranger. Older. The stone bears marks that predate the abbey—spirals and symbols. The ancient presence grows stronger too, more confident.
Soon, little scholar. Soon you will understand.
We emerge into a circular chamber that might once have been a guard room. Arrow slits pierce the walls, and broken weapons litter the floor. But it’s the alcove in the far wall that draws my attention—a niche containing a single intact book.
"Wait," I call out as Krath moves toward the next staircase. "There’s something here."
The book is bound in black leather, unmarked by age or flame. When I touch it, the cover feels warm—not with external heat, but as if something lives within the pages.
"Ritual Compendium of the Void-Touched," I read aloud. "Severance, Binding, and the Art of Soul-Trading."
Perfect.
Krath’s expression darkens. "Leave it."
"But it might have answers?—"
"It has exactly the answers you want to hear," he cuts me off. "Which makes it dangerous beyond measure."
Listen to him, little witch. He knows the price of forbidden knowledge. He knows how easily the desperate can be led astray.
But even as the voice mocks, I feel its eagerness. It wants me to read this book. Wants me to find whatever’s written in its pages.
Why?
The question sits heavy in my mind as we continue climbing. What does the ancient presence gain from my knowledge? What does it want me to find?
Understanding, child. The truth your orc so desperately hides.
We reach another landing, this one opening onto a balcony that overlooks the abbey’s courtyard far below. Wind whips through the broken stones, carrying the scent of ash and old rain. But it’s the view that stops me cold.
