>>5937093Wasting no further time, you and the others begin running up the seemingly never-ending spiral staircase, ascending towards the upper levels of the tower. Along the way, you find several more examples of the mess you saw down below. Amongst the potsherds and debris, you see the same black ink dotting every corner of the tower unevenly. Your first thought was that it must have been some sort of paint, used to blot out the images that had been painted on the walls you pass by. But when you begin to see it more frequently, and on every floor at that, you suspect that this was not paint, but blood.
“…I don’t understand.” Leopold says breathlessly as he ascends the stairs. “Zanado is supposed to be a holy place, is it not? And yet…this choking feeling. It’s as if every step we take is oppressive.”
“This is no holy place.” Uriel adds in. “One need not be magically attuned to see that the darkness here is thick and ever-present inside these walls. I do not believe this to be a recent change, either. This tower must have been fouled and corrupt for thousands of years.”
“How can that be?” Leopold exclaims in shock. “Is Zanado not the home of the Goddess? Is that not the entire reason we Knights of Seiros prohibit entry here?”
“If this was the Goddess’ home, she’s since moved out long ago.” Clay exclaims, wincing as he exerts effort to continue climbing. “The old man is right. Something haunts these grounds.”
As you and the others continue climbing, the exhaustion you all feel grows worse. This was not just an issue of physical exertion though. You’d all been through far worse. It was as if the very air itself was growing harder to breathe with each step. All were feeling the effects of the tower’s oppressive aura. All save Anemone, who raced ahead of all of you several steps in front. Having assumed her Agarthan form, she seemed totally unimpeded here. Perhaps her kind were unaffected by whatever magic was at work here?
As you step on a landing, you nearly lose your balance. Only Ashe’s support keeps you standing straight. Bending over to catch your breath, you look up to thank your lover, only to see that he’s no longer there. None of your allies were. Instead, you were surrounded by three unfamiliar figures.
The first was a cloaked man. Though his face was obscured, you could see pale thin strands of white hair peeking out through his hood.
The second was a green-haired little girl. She reminded you of Flayn in a strange way, though far younger.
The third was a hulking, grey-haired man with scars running across his chest. Perhaps most surprising of all, the Sword of the Creator rested in his hands.
>A): Approach the cloaked man.>B): Approach the green-haired girl.>C): Approach the wielder of the Sword of the Creator. 