The Key

The journey from Esmerand took twenty-three days. 

They avoided the silver road and stopped along small towns and villages on the way to the Spire of Knowledge, helping those they could while avoiding knights and officials who may have heard of Kyr’s escape. None did. Or rather, none cared more than their own affairs.

The apocalypse was a disease, and unlike Esmerand, these people have little of the sacred order’s salve to help them endure. But not for lack of trying. Vastille itself was simply spread thin; focused on both the hero's journey and their agitated neighbors.

But alas.

The Spire of Knowledge was made of onyx-infused stone, rising to about fifty-feet in height. It was circular and featureless, with a flat roof at the very top. Most people called it sleek and elegant. That it glistened black as night. Kyr thought it looked like a giant nail left unhammered.

The area around the tower was mostly deserted. Just a field of withered grass and dead trees. Far on the opposite side, however, were several tents of different sizes with a smattering of people milling about. Torches were lit, music played, and spice-infused smoke wafted in the air.

“They are remnants of the hero’s parade,” Nowe explained. “When Ilara started her quest to reconquer the towers, people flocked to her side in droves. My father forbade it first, calling it a distraction, but people still followed at a distance. It didn't take long for them to grow in number.”

“After the rites were performed, there were those who stayed behind as if to safeguard the tower," Leatrix added. "Though for some it is peace of mind. Beasts don't come here as often anymore.”

Kyr remembered the same thing after they cleared the Spire of Strength seven years ago. It was teeming with monsters at first, but afterwards something made the beasts less aggressive. The amount of mana in the land was the same, but it was less… agitated. Like a river that forked instead of gushing in one direction.

The group made their way to the makeshift town and spent three days in preparation. Cinza was quick to make friends, while Leatrix and Nowe gathered information. Roy mostly kept Kyr company in the caravan or the tents they rented.

Kyr didn’t hide himself so often, but after their first day, he felt like people were staring too much despite his efforts to hide his horn. At times he even felt like someone’s been following him, though he never caught them. Mana moved too much in the open world.

“Trust me, Roy, this is miles apart from what prison felt like,” Kyr said as he read his book inside their tent. “You don’t have to worry about me. And can you please, stop fussing over my horn!”

Ever since Nowe was electrocuted one month ago, the group had tried touching and prodding his horn like it was a toy. Especially Leatrix. So far, none had the same reaction as the princess. They speculated that it might have something to do with her royal blood.

But if so… why? If royal blood was required to perform the rites, did that mean Kyr wasn’t allowed into the spire? Or at least the inner chamber?

On the third night of their stay, they decided to find out.

They made their way into the spire while the hero’s parade slept comfortably in the distance.

“I had trouble finding where the entrance was six years ago,” Roy said placing his hand against the wall of the tower. “I was panicking back then, but even now it’s still hard to see.”

“Does being here jog your memory?” Leatrix asked. “Anything you recall seeing?”

Roy shook his head. “I’ve been going here the last three days,” he said. “But nothing. I just remember it looking exactly like this.”

“That’s a clue of its own,” Kyr said.

He walked towards the side of the spire that faced east and found a faint groove against its perfectly polished stone. It was rectangular, about the size of two doors, but there were no handles or design whatsoever.

“When the hero opens the spire, the door will stay that way for a period of time,” Kyr explained. “But if there is no activity, it will close on its own.”

“Meaning whoever killed Aven must’ve gone in with him,” Leatrix said, “Or followed close behind after the group entered.”

“They could also just have a key,” Cinza suggested.

Everyone turned to look at the princess.

Nowe blinked innocently at them. She held a block of stone in her hands, sculpted to resemble a book. Or as Roy so enthusiastically put it, a ‘codex’. She presented it as the key to opening any of the four spires of Vastille.

Cinza gasped theatrically. “Maybe she always had the key in her possession!”

“Nice try, butler boy,” Nowe said. “But there’s only three of these things, and all of them were under tight security six years ago. Until they used one to try and rescue Aven.”

From what Kyr heard, after Radon and the others escaped the burning of Lumis, they rode south to the city of Serami where one of the keys were stored. It took them four days to go there, get the key, come back and open the spire. 

Only to find Aven’s dead body along with Kyr’s unconscious self.

Of course, Kyr remembered none of that. The last thing he did six years ago was walk into one of the spire's corridors to cool his head after beating Radon. He probably lost consciousness, then woke up days later with the knights of Serami restraining him in every conceivable manner. He was confused, but all he could think of at the time was how dry his throat had been.

Nowe proceeded to hold the key against the door.

They waited several minutes.

But nothing happened.

“Is something supposed to open?” Roy asked.

“I—” Nowe started, then tried pushing the book into the stone wall. She tried knocking it, channeling mana, waving the book around, she even chanted silly things. Nothing happened. “This is supposed to work!”

“It took the knights several attempts,” Leatrix said, “before they got it working years ago.”

The others passed the book around and tried several attempts.

Nothing changed.

“Is this not the codex after all?” Roy asked.

“It never was,” Nowe replied, her face distraught. “I was told even the one Ilara has is a pale imitation. But that doesn’t matter, this should work! The codex is for the inner chamber, and this is just the door! Ilara has the other two books and they’ve been using them!”

They kept trying and trying, until Roy eventually passed Kyr the book. “Why don’t you try?” he said. “Use mana in a special way or something.”

“If I did, the book will break,” Kyr said. “You and I both know this thing doesn’t have a repository.”

In fact, it really looked just like a rock.

Kyr tapped the book on the door, but... nothing.

Roy scratched his head. “Well… how did Aven do it? I know he had the codex, but none of you even knew of it, right? So… how did he open the door?”

“He simply touched the tower,” Kyr said. He handed the book back to Roy, then placed an open palm against the door. “He put his hand here, and—”

Suddenly, a jolt of magic passed through Kyr’s body, and for a split second, his eyes could see inside the spire as it was made of glass. The outline along the wall glowed, and the door parted to the sides as if the black stone remolded itself.

Kyr took a step back in shock.

It was the same as when Aven did it.

“What the hell happened?” Cinza said as he stepped closer to peer inside the spire. “You just opened it.”

Kyr didn’t know. He—huh? What did he do? He saw the others touching the wall earlier too. That did nothing.

The inside of the spire glowed a faint bluish light. It showed a narrow hallway that led to a staircase. Just like six years ago.

Nobody had an answer to what happened, but Kyr could guess what was on everybody’s mind. When no one else could open it, he had access to the spire somehow. He, the one who everyone said was guilty of the crime.

"He chased the other guardians to Lumis and burnt it down!" 

"He then returned to the spire to face Aven one last time… and killed him!”

“Only he could’ve done it!”

No, no, no…

No!

Those were their lies.

The king, the other guardians, the magistrates… they tried really hard to convict him—to convince him of something he didn’t do.

Why couldn’t he remember it?

Why couldn’t he remember what happened here six years ago?

Why couldn’t—

A hand suddenly grabbed his arm.

“Kyr?” Leatrix said, as if nudging him awake. “We can worry about this later. Maybe it's Nowe's key. We should probably hurry before it closes.”

“…right.” Kyr nodded slowly. “We’re here to learn as much as we can about the apocalypse.”

Leatrix squeezed his arm. “And prove your innocence. Let’s go.”

The inquisitor walked past him and led the way into the spire. The others followed one by one, making jokes and stupid bets to what they’ll see first.

Kyr choked back a tear, then hurried after them.