[Closed to Ashla]

Cold drops of rain sizzled and popped as they fell onto my burning skin. They were heavy and thick, the tears of giants raining down in a baptismal font which washed the miles of road away and welcomed me back to the Citadel. I tightened my grip on my warscythe and stalked along my entry path. Moss and wet earth cushioned each of my heavy steps, the ground beneath me resisting being churned sodden by my weight. I didn’t question it, didn’t have to. The Ai’Brone monks, the Citadel’s keepers, had access to magic both powerful and mysterious. I’d seen firsthand the incredible realities which they could craft within the Citadel’s ancient walls. To them, a heavy rain and solid ground must be child’s play.

How long has it been since the last time I was here? I wondered. So much had happened. So much time and distance that that this once familiar place almost seemed foreign to me. But the Ai’Brone had not forgotten. They had remembered the truth of this place, and my truth as well. No sooner had I stepped within the Citadel’s hallowed walls than had I found one of the Ai’Brone ushering me quickly to a prepared arena. The Finger of God they had called it. I could see why.

A crooked tower rose from the darkness at the end of my path, stretching so far into the sky that it seemed to scratch at the very clouds themselves. I stopped for a moment as the immensity of the structure came full into view, allowing the sense of the thing to wash over me. And then I grinned, feeling my charred lips twist and crack away from sharpened teeth. This would make a good place to fight.

While injuries sustained in the Citadel weren’t real, just another display of Ai’Brone magic, the feeling of hunting another warrior was just as natural as it was out in the real world. I closed my eyes to the Finger of God and let the memories come back to me. I could feel the delicate resistance of my blade cutting into my prey, the sweet release that the parting flesh made and how the warmth of their life poured out. A shudder of anticipation oozed up my spine and I savored it for one brief moment before choking it back into place. It wouldn’t do to allow my opponent to get the drop on me because I was dallying about in the rain.

Enough time had passed that my opponent had to already be within the arena as well. Knowing that there was little room for error I whipped my warscythe behind me with a snap and ran the rest of the way down the path. In the driving rain my inhuman speed would make me little more than a blur as I ran, which would hopefully be enough to disorient anyone who’d happened to catch sight of me during my moment reverie. Though as I got closer the Finger of God and took stock of its sheer immensity I wondered if it mightn’t be better to just wait out in the open to be found. But I had never been one to take the easy way out.

While the tower’s outer shell was a solid, if a little crooked, the inside was another story. Dim lights glowed from several of the hundreds of windows stamped into the walls. Given its size, the Finger of God must have been cross-crossed with miles of pathways and tunnels. It might take hours, or maybe days, to find a lone opponent within. But I’d never find them if I didn’t start somewhere. Picking a lighted window at random, one that was at least six or seven meters off the ground, I leaped up into it.

I quickly looked around for the light source that had brightened this window only to find myself frowning and issuing a muttered curse. Instead of finding a torch or lamp that I could bring with me into the heart of the tower I found a glowing orb set deep into the room’s cobbled back wall. There was little else of note in the small chamber save for bits of crumbling stone and deep cracks which lined every surface. The Finger of God might be mighty and impressive from the outside, but the inside was rotten and decrepit.

And then, as I was taking stock of the place, the room’s light orb winked out. One moment the room was filled with a soft golden light and the next it was filled with thick shadows and suffocating darkness. At the exact same moment, I noted, a golden light winked into existence in another far down the hallway that lay attached to the chamber’s sole door. It looked like I’d have to leapfrog my way from room to room until I found my opponent, following the trail of lights throughout the Finger.

“Here we go,” I whispered to the dark room, my voice so low that it was drowned in the deluge of the downpour still raging outside the window. Nodding to myself, I tightened my grip on my warscythe and plunged headlong into the waiting darkness.