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The chain he held in his bony hand rattled and brought him back to the moment. He gazed down at the magi that lay on the far end of it, feebly attempting to crawl away. 

“Your time has come, magi!” Oragoth’s voice reverberated low and thunderous, as though the sound came from the earth itself.

The magi turned to face him and flinched, eyes wide with fear, yet there was no recognition in them—only blind panic. He scrambled backwards, his hands grasping at the stone, not only to flee his demon, but the sound of his voice itself.“There is no escape, only death!” Oragoth stated. He yanked on the chain that hung around the magi’s neck and pulled the tortured body a few steps up the stairs of the broken tower’s base. The man cried in agony and pain; he coughed up blood and gasped for air once the grip on his chain loosened.

Oragoth focused on the tower above, and with a gesture of his hand, a portal opened before him. The portal hissed and burned. Its magic flame cast an orange glow on the fragments of rock that floated by. Sparks of energy that pulsed from the portal caught in the wind. He watched them fade as they spiraled around the tower. He stepped through the portal, dragging the broken magi behind him.

They emerged inside the orbiting tower. As he looked through the lancet windows, he watched the world shift by at unnatural angles, the landscape tilting and twisting as the tower drifted in its endless orbit. The wall where smooth with polished marble, the floor looked worn from years of use. The chains rattled as he pulled them in. With a swift lunge, he seized the magi by the wrist in a bone crunching grip. A screamed tore from the man’s throat as a dark red stain bloomed across the sleeve, it seeped downward from the shattered bones beneath his fingers. 

He stared into the polished walls and his reflection glimmered back at him—rigid pale skin stretched taut over a hairless skull, eyes retracted into deep cavernous sockets. Only the fluid grace of his movements betrayed his elvish origins. He raised his arm, lifting the magi to face him. “Witness real power,” he said. A bony finger traced the smooth surface of their reflection, the sharp nails biting into the smooth polished stone. Dust and fractures of stone flaked away under his menacing touch, distorting his image. Then, after a moment, the dust and marble flakes returned to their original position, seamlessly restoring the walls smooth surface.“Centuries and it still stands”. His voice echoed from the walls. “You are chosen to heal that what’s broken.” The words seemed lost to the magi that hung weakly in his firm grip, eyes squinted shut, face distorted in pain.

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Turning on his heel, he ascended the spiraling steps of the broken tower, dragging the magi behind. The stairs led to an open terrace at the tower's top. Seven ten-foot pillars supported the domed roof. The pillars, intricately carved with an array of flowery veins, had long faded and lost their colors. With their beauty eroded, all that remained was a tapestry of lifeless vines, stubbornly clinging to the weathered and crumbling stone.

The terrace had a protruding walkway that extended from the tower’s edge. No more than two feet wide, it jutted out into the sky. Traversing the precarious walkway, swirling hot winds pulled on their clothes and sought to drag them into the deep dark abyss below. Halting at its very edge, with nothing but open air around, Oragoth eyed his land below and beyond.