The border town smelled like piss and bad decisions.
Gareth's horse clip-clopped through mud-slicked streets while his eyes darted everywhere—scanning, measuring, scheming. Buildings leaned against each other like drunks after last call.
Wooden signs creaked in the wind, half of them so faded you couldn't read what they were selling.
But Gareth wasn't here to shop.
He was here to throw bait in the water and see what kind of fish bit.
The Tower had appeared three days ago. That massive, impossible thing jutting into the sky like some god's middle finger.
Purple and pink lights swirling around it, visible even from here—thirty kilometers away. The whole countryside was buzzing about it.
Perfect.
"—just a shadow! I'm telling you, Bern, it's nothing but mountain shadow playing tricks!"
"Mountain shadow? Are you fucking stupid? Mountains don't glow purple and make the ground shake!"
