“This… this place.” Nevin’s voice, unused til now, rang out in the still air of the morgue. His tone was full of disbelief as he stared towards the pile of meat and bone that had been… had been a zombie at one point. He couldn’t even bring himself to think of what it had resembled. The redhead swallowed, forcing a thick lump of tension down.
“This place is.. Where Ezra was made. I… I can’t ignore that anymore.” Which meant that he had to figure out just what the COBALT had gone on in this hellhole. Running, fleeing, was no longer an option - no, he absolutely had to get to the bottom of this. Just how had - how had this madman gone from making zombies that were mindless abominations, to making a person - because Nevin was fairly certain that Ezra had her own soul at this point. And the alchemy - that was another reason he was here, he couldn’t forget that. No - clearly the master of this place had picked up alchemy part way through learning his necromancy - that was why it only showed up on the final zombie.
Slowly he straightened back up and turned his gaze back to the doorway that he had come into the morgue through. Moving as swiftly as he could - the injury to his leg did slow him down a fair amount as he limped along - he climbed back over the rubble, back into the main hallway. No - the master’s workshop was up above - he could not take the time to examine the other room on this floor. He had to find out just what on earth the master of this place had been doing. Grabbing a piece of wood from the ruined frame, Nevin made his way over to the stairwell, and paused to stare at it in trepidation.
The obstacle of climbing up these stairs for a moment seemed insurmountable. Nevin’s leg was throbbing in fresh pulses of pain with each beat of his heart - though he did note that the pain was diminishing slowly, and a glance downward showed that threads were slowly weaving themselves across the injury. They weren’t negating the fact that he had been hurt, his leg was still weak, but at least the burning pain was lessening. So, with a deep breath and a clench of his jaw, Nevin slowly made his way upward, practically hauling himself up with the piece of rotted lumber in his hands.
The top floor was clearly exposed to the elements, and Nevin felt a brief pang of despair as he realized that almost nothing was left on this floor. Whatever had been done that blasted open the tower - it had originated here, on this floor, and more than half of the roof and the walls were gone. He let out a scream of frustration as he began dragging himself around this floor, trying to find anything of value - a journal, scattered notes, a ritual circle - anything that might clue him in to what the master of this tower, Ezoreth, had been doing when he died rather spectacularly.
But there was nothing. Just rotted wood and the nests of various birds. Whatever knowledge might have been here at one point, it had been lost to the elements and the passage of time. Nevin came to a stop near what looked like the shattered remnants of a table and he had to bite back another cry of frustration - no, there was nothing here either. Wait. What was glowing beneath his feet? Nevin barely had time to think that he had fucked up when a blinding light engulfed him -
And the top of the tower was empty, save for a piece of wood that fell to the ground with a loud clatter.
