Cerise had nothing left.
Actually — that would be an overestimate. The orcs had destroyed her village, and killed everyone she’d known, and she literally owned nothing but the clothes on her back, but two weeks after escaping the ruin they were just dirty, soiled, oily masses of linen: If anything, she’d have to pay someone to take them from her.
In desperation, she’d wandered for days, scavenging, surviving on scraps and trash. It was such a change from her life before: She’d been one of the prettier girls in the village, with long waves of yellow hair, dark brown eyes, and an ample figure, and she’d used those to catch the eye of at least a few of the young men — but in a blink, all of that was gone. Luma and Jani had died only inches from her, and as she fled, she’d had to crawl over the dead corpse of Arrus. The silly game of who could woo the boys the best seemed a million miles away now.
But — the tower.
Cowering in a nearby town, living on scraps and handouts, she’d first heard of the tower. Gold! Silver! Riches! She didn’t really care about the rumored treasure, but there was a sorcerer there, or maybe a sorceress, and if Cerise begged nicely, maybe, just maybe, they would help her. They could go after the orcs, or take her on as an apprentice, or *something*. They had powerful magic, so the stories went, and as far gone as Cerise’s life was, magic was the only thing that could help.
So she’d walked. Mustering strength she didn’t have, she put one foot in front of the other in the dirt, leaving the town, and heading toward the tower. She could see it in the distance almost immediately: A tall, narrow, round cylinder of gray-blue stones, with a few dark windows, and crenellations at its summit. It peered out over the entire valley, a great stone giant watching the ants living their lives below. Somewhere behind its topmost window, there had to be someone who could help her.
It inched closer, and she made camp when the sun set after the first day of slow plodding, and then it inched closer again, and finally, at sunset on the second day, she reached its base. It was ringed by a wide, deep moat, filled with dark blue water, and on the near side of the moat lay piles of dark rubble, likely left from its construction however many centuries before.
The drawbridge was up.
Cerise stood outside, staring up at it, trying to decide how best to summon its opening, and, not having any good ideas, she sat down on some stones for a while, waiting to see if it would open of its own accord. The sun lowered further, until the sky was lit with brilliant pinks and oranges and reds, but no-one emerged, and the drawbridge hadn’t budged. The tower was dark, its windows black, and if anyone was inside, she hadn’t seen any evidence of it.
Finally, she stood up, stepped in front of the drawbridge, and called out.
“Hello?” she said.
Nothing happened.
“I need your help,” she said. “Please!”
Suddenly, with a great creak and a groan, the great wooden drawbridge began to slowly lower, its chains clanking against the great iron pulleys as it fell. It reached the dark earth at her feet and landed with a loud bang that shook her too her core.
She peered across the boards to the far side, but there was nothing to be seen beyond. The drawbridge seemed to lead straight inside the tower, and the shadowy entrance gate was simply black beyond. There could have been a hundred men with swords waiting in the darkness — or no-one.
“Hello?” she called again, but there was no response.
Cerise took a deep breath. She had nothing to lose except her life, and that had been destroyed weeks ago anyway: If anything, she felt like an undead creature, just waiting for someone to put her out of her misery. She stepped onto the drawbridge, expecting it to jolt, or someone to emerge, but nothing happened. The birds had stopped tweeting, and the insects were silent. There was simply nothing here, save for the girl and the bridge.
She walked across, timidly at first, and then with a little more confidence as nothing happened, and reached the blackness on the other side.
Suddenly with a loud *bang!* the great gears started to turn and the drawbridge began to clank upward behind her. She whirled around, but it was already a few feet in the air, her escape route cut off.
Cerise swallowed hard and turned back, the tiny hairs on her arms starting to prickle up. This was bad. Everything about this felt wrong. She was dead. She was doomed. With a great *boom!* the drawbridge clattered to a halt behind her, sealing her into the blackness of the tower.
All at once, a ring of torches along the walls inside the tower burst into flames, and Cerise gasped.