Lyle hadn’t actually been to the Rice Tower before. It stretched into the sky for a hundred floors, each floor nearly fifty feet tall. The walls were black metal, blazing a neon green that flared from the edges of the fortress-like structure. Carson had been here many times before becoming a Boundary Guard, but he’d never been inclined to bring guests when they came to this place despite being far more confident than he was. He and their father had both been powerful Embers, sought after by guilds and DOER alike for their prowess. Incredible strength had rested in the hands of the Margrave family—just not with Lyle.

Until now, that is. But Carson was dead, and Stephen—Lyle’s father—was imprisoned, which made it difficult to fully celebrate Lyle’s ascension to their ranks.

The second floor of a Tower wasn’t difficult, which was a relief since Lyle’s delve team didn’t seem particularly competent. Lyle met them just outside. There was George, one of the more confident Embers, who held an unstrung wooden bow that was nearly as tall as he was. The wood was thick, and Lyle wondered how heavy the draw was. A quiver of arrows hung from George’s hip where he could easily reach it. He was one of the two leaders of this group, according to Abe, who had tagged along for this leg of the journey. The other was a tall, broad man with no apparent weapon—or armor, for that matter. He was waiting for the rest to gather with a bored expression. Neither looked particularly enthusiastic about the group that collected before them, but Lyle could hardly blame them. They looked experienced, if their easy manners were anything to go by, and that meant they’d been higher up in the Tower. Returning to the lower floors had likely become a chore to them. Lyle wondered why they bothered, and quickly realized it was probably a financial decision.

The others were a mixed bag. Aside from Lyle and the two leaders, there were seventeen. He introduced himself to at least half of them, but only managed to retain a couple of names. Liv, the tall, brown-haired swordswoman of about thirty. Trent, the big, African American shieldbearer. There were Sean and Sophia, who were notable to Lyle only because they were twins. Both had neon yellow-blonde hair with blue eyes and nearly the same face, which meant Lyle had guessed as much before even talking to them. Sean hefted a big mace and Sophia had two daggers sheathed at her waist, and both were armored in leather. Alas, despite Lyle’s efforts to remember, everyone else’s name slipped into the void within minutes.

“Alright, listen up,” called George once everyone was gathered. “Time to get going. Your next of kin have your wills, right?”

He gave them a lopsided grin, but no one laughed. After a moment his shoulders drooped and the expression melted from his face.

“Right. Tough crowd. Anyway, I’m George, your boss for the day, which means that what I say goes. You’ve all signed the waivers, but that doesn’t mean we want you to get hurt. To that end, let’s make this easy. If you’re fighting with a melee weapon, you’re in front, of course, and anyone using magic or projectiles will stand back. Aim over our friends’ heads, and don’t shoot when they’ve engaged, or I’ll personally shoot you.” At this, Lyle thought he saw the burning power vibrate in George’s eyes for a moment as he turned suddenly serious, but it faded quickly and he relaxed again. “I’ll call draw and fire to get a volley in before the battle really begins, then the melee can engage. Uh… anything else? Oh, right, rewards. You’ll get your share and time to collect at the end, but if you get lucky enough to find a Token, you get to keep it. Now let’s get this party started.”

“Good luck!” Abe said to Lyle. “I’ll wait outside. See you soon.”

“Thanks, see you soon,” replied Lyle absently. His focus was on the Tower now. One by one, Embers in his group walked into the open building and vanished the instant they stepped over the threshold. Lyle followed, and found himself in… a desert? He shook his head to reorient himself, and found he was standing right next to a staircase that led both up and down.

“Oh, this must be…” Lyle murmured to himself. He’d entered on the first floor, so he had to climb to the second now, and climbing down would put him back outside the Tower in his own world. Each floor was like a pocket dimension, centered on the staircase. If you got too far, each step would become harder and harder until it was impossible to move forward—or so he’d heard. Now wasn’t really the time to test that, so he climbed after the Embers he recognized from his group. After a minute he blinked and found himself in another world completely.

The group of Embers was gathering in a clearing in the middle of a pine forest as they stepped off the staircase. The disorganized crowd milled about until George gathered them together once more, directing them down a worn path. Mere minutes later, they happened upon a campsite with a few fires spread around a clearing. The tents were haphazard, often just cloth draped over thin tree trunks that had been hacked from the ground. George hissed a halt as soon as he spotted the camp, and Lyle came to a stop immediately, putting him just barely in line of sight through the trees. Most of the others stopped within a few steps.

The inhabitants of the camp apparently hadn’t noticed them as of yet. Their site was downhill, which gave the humans an advantage for which Lyle was grateful. Because they most certainly were not human. They were bipedal, but only half the height of the average human. Their skin was a mottled gray-green that looked leathery and tough. They had sharpened teeth that tore angrily into the forest animals they must have caught for their meal, and gory tusks and claws completed the unpleasant picture of woodland cruelty

George lined the other Embers up quickly and quietly, directing them with hand gestures, before the creatures noticed. Lyle decided they were goblins, though, despite their stature, they were far scarier than the ones he’d faced in World of Warcraft years ago.

George motioned to draw by knocking an arrow and pulling back his bowstring. His muscular arms strained, and Lyle saw a wisp of blue power embrace his arrow at the same time as the Emberflame burned brightly in George’s eyes.

Draw weight must be insane, Lyle thought as he watched the man. For an experienced Ember, a normal human bow wouldn’t even test the lower bounds of their strength.

Six other archers among the Embers drew in tandem, and a single mage conjured a fireball that spluttered and coughed as he tried to hold it steady, eventually managing to grow it to nearly a foot across, and they all launched their missiles upon the campsite in a loose bunch. Three goblins fell without a cry, and two others were struck with arrows but not killed. George’s arrow in particular was absurdly destructive, spinning off ice particles as it blasted through a goblin and lodged deep in a tree after nearly taking a second goblin’s ear off. The fireball missed completely, but it set a tent aflame and screams of panic erupted from within. The rest of the goblins shouted out in a screeching cacophony and leapt into a frenzy, grabbing clubs and charging uphill into their attackers.

Lyle drew his sword—a relic of his father’s days fighting in the Tower near Chicago. It was a little under three feet long, its blade straight and colored the silver of steel. What it lost in beauty it made up for in effectiveness.

He stepped forward with the other melee Embers and swung the blade in a swift horizontal cut. Two of the creatures fell in a spray of blood, and Lyle flinched backwards. They gasped and choked on their lifeblood, and moments later, they were dead. Lyle felt a slight shock at how easy it was to take their lives, but his blade stayed up and ready even as his mind wandered. He deflected a vicious club strike that nearly caught him in the shin and mentally thanked Den, his martial arts teacher of the past several years, for drilling him with the jian so thoroughly. This sword was a bit different from the Chinese blade, but the forms remained reasonably effective. Another club forced him to let go of the extraneous thoughts and focus on the moment.

With another practiced slash, Lyle decapitated another goblin and sent a fourth reeling backwards. The living one screamed and fell to his knees as he looked in shock at his now-fingerless hand.

It was the perfect opportunity for Lyle to try his magic on a creature of the Tower.

Lyle pulled at a thread of his power, and he lobbed the spark from his palm towards the goblin. It felt more difficult than normal—his attention was being pulled in many directions—but after a few seconds of effort, the spark touched the center mass of the goblin. The creature continued to stare at its hand and scream, and Lyle ran through a series of experiments in the short time he had. He pushed at the power, then he pulled, then willed the waves of light to touch the goblin’s wound, then his heart and brain. He willed his magic to activate in every way he could think of, but nothing happened whatsoever.

Maybe Abe is right and it interacts somehow with other Embers’ powers, Lyle thought. I can try it on our mage—well, when we’re not fighting. Would that make me some kind of enchanter?

A strange sight caught Lyle’s eye as he studied the goblin closely, though, despite his magic having no effect. A faint mist drifted into the air from his wound. It wasn’t blood—the mist was black, with a hint of green, almost exactly like the coloring of the outer walls of the Tower. Like everything else, it didn’t interact with his magic, so he dismissed it as it dissipated and swung once more, putting his subject out of his misery.

Lyle glanced around for new opponents or any allies needing assistance. In the lull, Lyle heard a roar from over to his right. Another creature right out of myth was tearing through a clustered group of at least ten of the goblins. It was tall and broad, and covered with spotted fur. Its head was feline, with pointed fangs far more fearsome than anything the goblins could hope to match.

That must be the other experienced Ember, Lyle realized, as he watched the leopard-man tear their enemies limb from limb. The goblins had no time for such musings. They fell helplessly before the savage onslaught, and within moments, the entire battlefield had been cleared.

Lyle could only stare with his mouth agape at the shifter, who was now covered in blood and gore. It was done before the man had so much as gotten warmed up.

That stood to reason since they were only on the second floor, Lyle supposed. Still, he didn’t feel he was getting stronger fighting such weak enemies.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,” he said to Liv, who was breathing heavily beside him. She shrugged.

“Easy floor,” she said between breaths. “I have a feeling George and Liam could do the entire thing by themselves.”

“Liam,” Lyle said. “Is that the shifter?”

Liv nodded.

“Alright, catch your breaths for a minute,” George called out. “We’ll move on in five.”

Lyle sat down with Liv and Trent to wait for the break to end, taking a swig of Trent’s water when offered and resolving to bring his own next time. They reintroduced themselves to each other and watched their companions, occasionally exchanging snippets of conversation. The archers gathered their arrows and the melee wiped blood off blades and maces, then everyone sprawled out.

“This your first time in a Tower?” Trent asked both Lyle and Liv.

“Yeah, for me it is,” Lyle replied.

“Nah, I’ve done a few over the past couple years when I’ve got free time,” Liv said. “Gotta keep up the license, and it helps my guild a little bit.”

Trent chuckled. “Yeah. I’m not in a guild, but it’s nice to have the extra cash. Lyle, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Lyle said.

“It can be hard to jump right into it, so if you think you might… freak out or something, let us know, right? Like Liv said, easy floor, but people rarely see violence like this in their day-to-day lives, so… shit happens. It can be scary.”

Lyle gave him a reassuring smile. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be alright. Thanks, Trent.”

“Yep!” Trent said with a smile, giving Lyle a friendly slap on the shoulder reminiscent of Abe. It stung, and Lyle almost laughed aloud as he rubbed the muscle when Trent turned away. The man didn’t know his own strength. That was probably common among Embers.

The minutes passed quickly, and when their rest was almost over, Lyle realized that he’d lost an opportunity to discover how his power interacted with that of the mage. The man was sitting only a couple dozen feet away. But George called for them to move on, and Lyle decided there would be time once they were back in the outside world.