When they hit the ground, the Spire was gone. In its place stood a simple, jagged pillar of rock. No gold, no light—just a monument to a man who chose a humble life over a hollow heaven.
The interior was not stone, but light. Gravity felt thin, like a half-remembered dream. As Kaelen climbed the winding, floating staircases, the Spire tested him. It didn’t use monsters; it used . Spire of Glory
The sky over the Kingdom of Oryn was no longer blue; it was a bruised purple, choked by the shadow of the . When they hit the ground, the Spire was gone
With every strike, the "Glory" faded. The illusions of grandeur shattered. The white stone turned back into common granite, and the stolen children awoke from their trance. The interior was not stone, but light
"My daughter is not an attachment," Kaelen roared, his voice echoing against walls that bled starlight.
As the Spire groaned and began to crumble, Kaelen grabbed his daughter and leaped from the shattering heights. They fell, not into death, but into a sea of clouds that softened like wool under the Spire’s dying magic.
Kaelen, a disgraced knight who had traded his sword for a blacksmith’s hammer, stood at the base of the monument. He wasn't there for the treasure rumored to be at the top, nor for the divine favor the priests promised. He was there because his daughter had been "called"—drawn into the Spire’s glowing entrance like a moth to a flame, along with dozens of other children.