Chapter 13: Secrets of the Shattered Tower
The morning after the battle was drenched in mist.
The fields once torn by violence now lay silent, the bodies of fallen enemies dissipated into smoke with the coming of dawn. Mubali stood at the edge of the forest, gazing toward the broken tower that loomed beyond a field of ancient ruins. It rose like a spear into the sky, its stones cracked and bleeding shadows, its peak lost in the mist.
A part of her trembled at the sight.
Another part — the part that had been forged in fire and sorrow — yearned to uncover what lay within.
The others gathered behind her — Wira, the surviving villagers, and a handful of spirits who had chosen to remain in mortal form.
"This is it, isn't it?" Wira said, stepping beside her.
Mubali nodded slowly.
"Where the truth waits."
And perhaps... something worse.
Their approach to the tower was cautious.
The very air grew colder with every step.
The ground beneath their feet was pocked with craters and strange, blackened roots that pulsed faintly as they walked.
No birds sang here.
No insects chirped.
Only the sound of their own breathing — and the distant, almost inaudible whispering that rose from the cracks in the earth.
Mubali kept her sword drawn, its blade humming faintly as if warning her.
The spirits whispered warnings, speaking of old wards, traps meant to keep out those unworthy.
Still, they pressed on.
The great archway of the tower loomed ahead, its massive stone doors broken wide open.
Inside: darkness so deep it seemed almost solid.
Mubali stepped forward.
As she crossed the threshold, a sudden pressure clamped down on her chest.
Visions assaulted her — memories not her own.
She stood in a grand hall, centuries ago, alive with banners and the laughter of spirits and mortals mingling.
A throne of living wood stood at the center, draped in vines and golden cloth.
A woman sat there — regal, fierce, yet kind.
Mubali gasped — for the woman had her eyes.
Mother?
Ancestor?
The vision shifted.
The hall burned.
Screams tore through the air.
Shadows swept through the tower, cutting down all in their path.
And standing amidst it all — the red-armored figure, sword in hand, face twisted in anguish as he fought against the tide... not leading it.
Mubali staggered back to the present, heart pounding.
Everything she thought she knew was unraveling.
The enemy had once been their protector.
The tower had once been a beacon, not a tomb.
Inside the tower, the group found a spiraling staircase that descended into the earth.
Each step downward seemed to peel away reality itself.
The stones shifted underfoot.
Walls whispered names none had spoken in ages.
Flickering torches, unlit for centuries, flared to life as they passed.
Deep below, the heart of the tower pulsed with a slow, rhythmic thrum — like the beating of a dying heart.
Mubali led the way.
At the base of the stairs, they entered a vast chamber.
Pillars carved with forgotten runes stretched upward into darkness.
In the center of the room stood a crystal — massive, cracked, and bleeding tendrils of black mist.
Within it floated a figure — a woman, her features obscured, but her aura unmistakable.
The Queen of Purwo.
Mubali dropped to one knee instinctively.
Wira and the others followed suit.
The Queen's eyes opened.
Her voice echoed without sound, filling their minds.
"Long have I slept, sealed by betrayal and sorrow."
"Who among you carries the flame of memory?"
Mubali rose slowly.
"I am Mubali," she said, voice steady despite the terror gnawing at her soul.
"Child of Purwo.
Bearer of lost hopes."
The Queen studied her.
"You have suffered.
You have bled.
You have remembered.
But do you understand?"
Before Mubali could answer, the Queen raised a hand.
A tendril of mist enveloped Mubali, lifting her gently off the ground.
Memories flooded her mind again — not visions, but truths.
The Red Armored Knight — once the Captain of the Queen's Guard — had turned against her not out of ambition, but out of desperation.
He had sought to save the kingdom from an even greater threat — a darkness that consumed worlds.
He had tried to warn them.
They had not listened.
And when the darkness came, he alone stood between annihilation and survival.
He had failed.
The tower had fallen.
The kingdom had shattered.
Tears streamed down Mubali's face.
Everything she had been taught was a lie.
The enemy was not evil.
The enemy was guilt.
Regret.
And something far worse still slumbered beneath the tower — something stirring now.
The Queen's voice softened.
"You must decide, Child of Purwo."
"Rebuild the past... or forge a new future."
"But beware — the darkness that broke us once still hungers."
The crystal pulsed violently.
Cracks spread across its surface.
The chamber shook.
The darkness below awakened fully.
The ground split apart with a thunderous crack.
From the abyss rose a creature born of nightmare — all shifting eyes, gnashing teeth, and tendrils of black flame.
The Queen screamed — not in fear, but in command.
The villagers formed a protective circle around the Queen's crystal.
Wira leapt to Mubali's side, blades ready.
Mubali raised her sword, its light brighter than ever.
The final battle had not come yet —
But this was the prelude.
They fought not for revenge.
Not for conquest.
But for memory.
For future.
For hope.