As the first rays of morning light painted the horizon, the tribal chiefs finally made their way to the tower's ninth floor, led by Ni'nan. They halted at the entrance, their eyes drawn to the glowing constructs still surrounding a trapped Kru'an.
"Suren, you can release him now," In'ang said calmly.
Suren opened his eyes, his Mark fading as the light drained from his body. He slumped against the center pole, sweat glistening on his brow. With a soft pulse, the astral constructs vanished, freeing Kru'an.
Kru'an took a step forward, his voice sharp. "I hope you've finally seen the error of your ways, In'ang. Now, let us tear down this cursed tower. And while we're at it, deal with this one." He motioned toward Suren.
In'ang stepped between them, meeting Kru'an's gaze with steel in his eyes.
"It is no longer your place to give orders, Kru'an," he said. "And we will speak about your insubordination later."
Kru'an held his gaze.
"I will be calling a council for this," he said.
"Do what you must," In'ang said. "But remember—I bear the name of Grest. Not you."
He turned, stepping across the floor and studying the map etched into the stone beneath their feet.
Ka'shala watched quietly from the edge, tracing her fingers along the battlements of the room.
"I know this is your tribe's matter, In'ang," she said softly, "but I must agree with your fellow tribesman. My people have suffered too because of this tower. So why should we not tear it down?"
In'ang turned, his jaw tight. He didn't look at Kru'an, though the older warrior's smug grin was hard to ignore.
"You've seen its power with your own eyes, Ka'shala," In'ang replied. "This tower can work wonders—for both of our tribes. And I am willing to share it. But let us speak on that after we bury our dead and confirm that the tower does what Suren promised."
He approached Suren and extended an arm toward the stairwell.
"Well then, young man. My tribe has bled, and so has another. I hope your tower holds true to its promise."
Suren met his eyes, then gave a quiet nod.
"If the chiefs will follow me," he said.
In'ang motioned for Ka'shala to join him. As Kru'an moved to follow, In'ang stepped in his path, the shaft of his glaivepressing lightly against Kru'an's chest.
"Not you. I will deal with you later."
He turned to Ni'nan. "Tell Ou'ang to guard this floor."
Kru'an glared after them with narrowed eyes, but didn't move.
The group descended in silence. Along the way, they passed tribespeople resting in the open rooms or along the stairwell, some tending to wounds, others sitting in quiet reflection. At the ground floor, they continued down—into the substructure.
At its center was a shallow pool lined with smoothed stones. Threads of radiant light flowed through the waters, illuminating the chamber's walls with a gentle, celestial glow. The moment they stepped inside, a strange peace fell over them.
Their minds quieted.
Even the lingering stress of the Abyssal whispers was soothed.
Ka'shala approached the pool, staring into the strands of flowing light. She reached out slowly but stopped just short of touching them.
"Pure Ethos," she whispered.
In'ang stepped beside her, his tone measured but full of conviction.
"This is the reason I risked my tribe," he said. "This… can help both our tribes advance. If we work together."
"Very well, In'ang," Ka'shala said at last. "I will calm my tribe and speak with our elders."
She turned and exited the chamber, her cloak trailing across the stone. In'ang gave her a respectful nod, then stepped up beside the edge of the Ethos pool. Its glowing strands cast his face in shifting, tranquil light.
He looked toward Suren.
"Well, young man," In'ang said, voice low but sincere. "You've lived up to your promise and earned the friendship of the Grest Tribe."
With that, he too turned and left, his footsteps echoing into the silence. Suren was left alone with Rickon, Tinkwick, and Ti'chan.
"It's finally over," Tinkwick murmured, sliding down against the wall and slumping to the floor.
Rickon followed suit, exhaling deeply as he sat beside him.
"So… what now? Do we just live here?" he asked, looking around the chamber.
Tinkwick and Suren exchanged a glance.
"Uhmm… I didn't really think of that," Suren admitted. "I guess we do."
"Su," Rickon said, glancing up at him, "how did you even do that with the giant constructs?"
"I fully synchronized with the tower," Suren replied, stretching his arms. "Tapping into its Ethos reserve let me supercharge my abilities."
"And you stuck to simple arches?" Ti'chan said with raised brows.
"I said it boosted my power, not my complexity," Suren shot back, dusting himself off. "Anyway, I'm going to sleep."
"There are bedrooms in this thing?" Ti'chan asked, incredulous.
"Yes," Suren replied flatly, already heading for the stairs.
"I want a full tour sometime," Ti'chan muttered as they followed him up.
They climbed to the eighth floor, where Suren had carved out a single room for himself during the tower's early construction. The space was spartan, just smooth stone, walls etched with faint glowing lines. No furniture or comforts.
Ti'chan left and returned with rugs scavenged from the Grest supplies, laying them out across the cold floor. One by one, they collapsed, exhaustion overtaking them.
As Suren lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, he focused inward—on his Mark.
[Name: Suren]
Title: —
Rank: Initiate
Profession: Designer
Mark/Word: Design
Skills: Architectural Design, Design Synchronization
Design Skills: Astrum Storage, Radiant Construction
He then turned his thoughts to the tower.
[Tower of Astrum Ruin]
Ethos Pool: 300 / 1000 strands
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
Then, at last, sleep took him.
Suren awoke past noon. The room was silent, the others already gone. He rose groggily and made his way down the winding steps of the tower to the base.
Outside, the air was still. The sky hung low with haze, and the camp was draped in mourning.
Tribespeople wore black woolen garments. Those without such garments had tied black bands around their arms. Even the Lai tribe had changed their veils to darkened tones. Their silence was heavy, their eyes heavier.
Many of them glared at Suren as he passed. Hatred, not subtle, not hidden.
"Suren! Over here!" Ti'chan called from beside the stream, waving him over.
Grateful for an excuse to escape the weight of their gazes, Suren hurried toward him. Ti'chan waited, holding something in his hands.
"Don't take it to heart," Ti'chan said gently as Suren approached. "Many are still grieving."
He wrapped a black armband around Suren's arm.
"I never knew… that would happen," Suren murmured.
"I know," Ti'chan said, voice low. He motioned for Suren to follow. "While we were asleep, Kru'an and his men spread rumors. Said the tower drew the demons to us. That outlanders caused all this."
They walked in silence toward the shattered remains of the old campsite.
There, members of both tribes dug graves and raised wooden altars. Tinkwick and Rickon worked beside them, though most of the tribesmen kept their distance from the outsiders. Suren and Ti'chan joined them, working in silence.
By evening, the altars were lit. Mournful songs filled the air as the dead were laid to rest, each grave marked by a small flag planted into the ground. The flames crackled. Smoke curled into the darkening sky like the breath of the fallen.
Suren and his group sat alone during the ceremony unacknowledged. Even when food was brought out, only Mi'isa with the help of Ni'nan and Ti'chan came to bring them portions. No one else approached.
As night settled over the plains, a messenger came. The tribal chiefs had summoned Suren.
He returned to the ninth floor of the tower. The etched floor now held mats for seating. At the center sat Chiefs In'ang and Ka'shala, behind them their tribal elders. Around the floor's edges stood elite warriors. Among them, Kru'an.
If Suren had looked closely, he would've seen the whip marks that crisscrossed Kru'an's back.
Ka'shala was the first to speak.
"We have spoken with our elders," she said. "The Tower shall remain under the joint protection of both our tribes. However, you will serve as its Warden."
She paused.
"As for the Ethos pool, our tribes will be entitled to three-fifths of its reserves."
Suren considered the offer.
"Very well," he said, he thought about declining but when he remembered what he the lives that were lost because of him he decided otherwise. "I agree."
Ka'shala inclined her head. In'ang spoke up.
"To ease cooperation, both tribes will leave behind liaisons," he said. "For my tribe, you already know them: Mi'isa and Ti'chan."
Ka'shala gestured to one of the warriors beside her. A tall, veiled figure stepped forward. A female Igin, twin bone daggers at her hips. She knelt at Ka'shala's feet.
"This is my niece, Ny'la. One of our finest warriors," Ka'shala said, her voice firm but warm. "She has the heart of a nomad, but I entrust her to you. She will safeguard our tribe's interests here."
Ny'la stepped forward, then dropped to one knee before Suren.
"My blades are yours to command," she said. Her melodic voice soothing his ears, standing up she stood behind him.
Ka'shala's voice broke the silence.
"Do you have anything you would like to ask, Warden?"
Suren looked around the room the chiefs, the elders, the warriors.
"Yes," he said after a moment. "I don't yet know how to extract or transfer the Ethos from the pool. How will your tribes carry their share?"
Ka'shala nodded, as if expecting the question.
"That is fine. We too lack the means to draw it out directly," she said. "However, my tribesmen have scouted out the towers entirety on the fourth floor there are meditation rooms with siphoned basins were the ethos is refined for safe use."
"I understand," Suren replied with a nod.
"If there are no other questions," Ka'shala said, rising to her feet.
"There aren't," Suren said. He stood and gave a respectful bow toward the assembled leaders.
Ka'shala and In'ang returned the gesture with quiet nods.
"Then this meeting is over," she declared.
Suren turned and made his way out, his footsteps quiet against the stone as the tower's ninth floor returned to silence.