Light of the Heavens

XVI. The Ashen Tower

Vassa felt the Ashen Tower like the pulling of a whirlpool. The grand edifice of the tower, constructed of perfectly fitted stone that was dark as if scorched at the base and slowly lightened in color the higher one went, boasted wards worthy of the great Pharos of the blood mages to the northeast, every bit equal in power and grandeur. Sarom's bastion of magic felt older, but only by a century or two if Vassa was to estimate. For the kingdoms of men, it was a jaw-dropping span of time, more than could even really be comprehended by people who would be fortunate indeed to reach sixty years of age before dying. Did they even have the capacity to appreciate magic that had endured an apocalypse and lasted nigh a thousand years?

Not for the first time, Vassa mused that the mages who made their home in such a place were ants calling a mountain their hill. The scope of such ambitious entitlement was a monument of its own.

Seben hadn't stopped smiling since they drew within the Charred Walls, the ring of black stone wall that barred the uninitiated access to even the grounds around the tower. "We did it," she breathed.

"You did it," Vassa said with amusement. "I was hardly in that arena with you."

"Maybe, but I wouldn't have survived to make it this far without your help. We haven't exactly had a shortage of people trying to do us harm," Seben said. Masaharta's guards had been forced to stay at the gate, but the apprentice fire-speaker's insistence that Vassa be permitted was not refused.

"Ah, and here you are," a man's voice greeted from the side.

Vassa turned, the fingertips of one hand touching Seben's back while the other hand ghosted over the hilt of her blade, barely touching it. "I recognize you," she said smoothly, allowing her hand to fall away from her obvious weapon. "The oracle from Lord Osei's party."

The elderly man smiled. He was again dressed in a simple white robe with a red sash embroidered with sunbursts worn diagonally across his chest, matching the blindfold over his eyes. His dark skin was surprisingly weathered for one who likely spent most of his time indoors. Leaning on his staff and so pleasant in his expression, the appearance was downright grandfatherly to Seben. "Indeed. My name is Seer Yuya. It is a pleasure to meet you in the proper place, Your Highness. And well met to you as well, Mistress Vassa. Masaharta speaks highly of you both." He bowed deeply with his hand over his heart, turning his face towards Seben. "The Ash-Touched await."

Seben nodded and glanced at the main doors to the tower before looking back at the older man. "Lord Osei said he spoke to an oracle when he was looking for an heir. Was that you?"

"It was indeed," Yuya said. "I am the eldest of the oracles and age grants clarity, I find. I saw your image before I saw you: a phoenix rising from the ashes to renew the covenant and burn away the impurities that have accrued over the long centuries."

Vassa's lips twitched into a small smile. "How auspicious a sign," she commented.

The seer sobered at that comment. "A vision of hope mired in darkness. I have seen images of the evil in Sarom in my dreams. It is enough to chill my body to the very bone, even in the heat of our summer. I believe that light will triumph in the end, but it is a fraught path at best."

Seben took a deep breath to steady herself. "We can stop the dark," she said with all the firmness she could muster. "We just need to know more about it."

"You need to know more about yourself," Vassa corrected. "You could know everything there is to know about your enemy, but such knowledge is useless if you cannot even fathom where your own roots of power lie."

"She is not wrong," Yuya said. There was an element of caution in his voice. "But be wary."

"I am," Seben promised. "Vassa reminds me. Excessively."