The cave was slick with water that trickled down the gently sloping tunnel. The air smelled earthy with a slight touch of damp. Thirty feet in, the tunnel reached a level slightly round chamber where the water collected in a shallow pool. There was a tunnel to the left that was a split in the stone barely wide enough for Frank to fit down.

“I guess we go that way?” Heather said as she looked down the narrow passage.

Frank sniffed the air and looked around. “This place smells like my tunnels.”

“You mean they smell bad?” Heather asked.

“My tunnels don’t smell bad,” he protested.

“They smell just like this,” Heather said. “Musty.”

She watched him glare at her and turn to the tunnel and walked in.

“So, is this natural?” Quinny asked.

“This looks like a player-generated tunnel,” Frank said. “You can tell because the floor is level.”

“So somebody must live here,” Heather added.

“Maybe,” he replied as he looked around. “But something feels wrong about it.”

The arrived at a wider tunnel that opened up into a square stone room.

“You were right. The cave led into the tower,” Quinny said as they looked around.

The floor was made of smooth stone with piles of hay along one wall. There were three barrels that once held something that had long since rotted away. The barrels themselves were splitting with age and covered in dust. In one corner was a collapsed wooden table, and in another was a pile of bones. The only exit from the room was an archway in the far wall.

“That's a skeleton,” Frank said as she hunched over it. He picked up the skull and looked at it closely. “There is no hair on it, so it isn't likely a player.”

“It's a summoned skeleton, then?” Quinny asked.

Frank nodded then blew a breath over it, causing the dust on its surface to float into the air. “But its been here a long time.”

“Why would it be here for a long time?” Heather asked. “I thought they poofed after awhile?”

Frank tossed the skull down with a shrug. “They are supposed to. Maybe this is a dungeon prop for a player above.”

“Let’s look in the next room,” Quinny said.

The next room was another square chamber with a stack of rotting boxes on one wall. There were four piles of bones here, one of which was widely scattered. On the far wall was as stairwell that climbed up to what they assumed was the tower.

Frank picked through the bones held a broken one up as he studied it.

“There were killed,” he said. “Lots of the bones are broken.”

“These are covered in dust as well,” Heather said. “I don’t understand why these are still here.”

“The wood in these rooms is so old it's rotting,” Quinny pointed out. “It's like this place has been here a hundred years.”

Heather agreed that this place had to be very old, but the visitors arrived just ten years ago. This prompted a question she needed to ask. “How old is New Eden now?”

Frank scratched his head. “Maybe eight years.”

“How long will it take Moon’s town to vanish?” Heather asked.

“Provided nothing haunts it, a year,” he said.

“So whoever made this tower must still be here,” she surmised. “Or it would have long since vanished.”

“But these boxes have been rotting for a lot more than eight years,” Quinny pointed out.

Frank looked at the boxes and scratched at his head again.

“They must have been added like that,” he said. “Whoever owns this place must have wanted the rooms to appear old.”

“I don’t have any options to add old stuff to my tower,” Heather remarked.

Frank shrugged and went to the stairs. “Let’s go up and see if we can find who owns this place.”

Heather and Quinny agreed and followed him and stayed close behind. They arrived at a round room with a polished marble floor of green stones. There was a great wooden double door in one wall, and a stairway that spiraled up the wall like Heather's did. This one, however, had a carpet runner of rotting blue cloth on it. In six points around the wall were slender pillars and suspended from metal arms on these were lanterns whose light had long since gone out. The floor here was covered in dust like the rooms below and hadn't been disturbed in years.

“None of this makes sense,” Frank said. “This must be the ground floor.”

“Whoever owns this place needs to get their skeletons to clean up,” Heather added as she kicked a cloud of dust up.

“Maybe they don’t use this floor?” Quinny asked.

“How would they get to the upper floors?” Frank questioned as he looked up.

“Well, it can't be abandoned. It would have vanished by now,” Heather interjected.

“Maybe somethings don’t vanish?” Quinny asked.

“Or maybe the random world structures can look ancient?” Heather suggested.

Frank looked around at the dust and had to agree.

“Maybe they can. It would certainly explain things,” Frank said. “But I seem to recall all the world spawns were ruins. This is an intact structure, just the things inside it are old.”

Other than the doors, the floor was empty, so Frank went to the stairs and peered up them.

“I like the stone this tower is made out of,” Heather said as she ran her hand on the wall. “It’s very smooth.”

“It’s polished marble,” Frank replied. “You should be able to upgrade to it eventually.”

“Then, this is a high-level player?” Heather asked as they started to ascend the stairs.

“It has to be,” Frank replied. “Nobody else gets these kinds of choices. This is why I can't believe this is a random world spawn.”

The next floor was cut into three rooms. The one they arrived in was a sort of sitting room. There was a pile of rot that was once a couch and table. Planters that held long-dead plants stood along the all. The floor had a large rug in the center, but it too was moth-eaten and decrepit. There was a fireplace on the outer ring as well as a stairwell up to the next level. This space was split by a wall that had two doors to two different rooms.

Searching the right door revealed a library of old books. Most were still in decent condition but had yellowed with age. A few were frail to the touch and pages tore when turned. The next room was what they could only assume was once a laboratory. It contained two badly burned tables, and the floor was littered with glass bottles and tubes. Most of them broken, and their horrid contents long since dried to stains on the floor.

Frank suggested they leave that room alone since he walked barefoot, and the other two wore soft shoes.

“Why would it all be broken?” Quinny asked.

“Somebody wanted to make sure it couldn’t be used,” Frank replied.

“Why would they do that?”

Frank shrugged and looked to Heather. She had no insight into the problem, so she shrugged back.

They went back to the main room and up the next flight of stairs.

They were greeted by a single large room with what appeared to be cages on one wall. These were large enough to hold a human, but somebody had long ago bent and twisted the bars. There was a small rack on one wall that looked as if it held weapons. Rusty swords and a few spears with rotted shafts lay on the floor beneath it. The most distinguishing feature of this room was a large crater burned into one wall. It looked as if something very hot had exploded on the wall and melted the stone. Black scorch marks radiated across the wall from the hole.

“What did that?” Heather asked.

Frank studied the damage and shook his head.

“This is spell damage,” he said. “A fire spell of some kind. Maybe burning bolt or Garins flaming gout.”

“It must have been high level,” Quinny said. “It melted part of the wall.”

“What was in the cages?” Heather asked. “And how did whatever it was bend the bars?”

They all regarded the cages with blank expressions, and Frank shrugged again.

“Let’s go to the next level.”

These stairs were smooth black stone that was caked in dust from years of neglect. The arrived as a doorway whose door was smashed from its hinges, allowing them to enter the room easily.

This room made them gaze in wonder. There were eight round pillars of white stone perfectly spaced around the room. Each one rose up forty feet and connected to an arch that stretched to the center of a domed ceiling. In the center of each arch was a red sigil of magic power that glowed with a dull light. The walls were smooth green marble, but the floor here was pure black. It was a smooth sheet of black stone as if it was carved from a single rock. It's only imperfection was an inlaid silver pattern like a star whose points each radiated out to a pillar. The star was enclosed by two silver rings inside of which were runes also of silver. These were etched into the floor and filled with metal to make them flush again. Above them floating I the air was a ghostly blue light that shimmered in the darkness.

“What is this place?” Heather asked as they carefully stepped out onto the floor.

“I have no idea,” Frank said as he looked a the light.

“It's a magic circle,” Quinny said.

“What do you need a magic circle for?” Heather asked.

Quinny shrugged. “I read about this in witchcraft books in the real world. It was just some fun reading, but this looks like some of what I saw.”

“So, a witch made this?” Heather pondered as she walked across the floor to look at the silver runes more closely.

“I wonder what this says,” she said more to herself than anybody else as she knelt and ran her hand over the runes in the ring.

“Heather,” Frank called. “Cancel your spectral sight.”

“But then I won't be able to see,” she replied.

“You can recast it. I need you to cancel it and tell me if you can still see the light.”

Heather stood up and pulled up her panel to look over the spell. There was a single word to end the spell, and with a word, it was gone.

“I can't see anything. This room doesn't even have windows.”

“Look up, can you see the runes on the ceiling?” Frank asked.

Heather squinted in the darkness and tried to make out anything. “No, it’s pitch black.”

“So the light and runes are dead,” Frank said.

“Dead?” Quinny asked.

“Go ahead and recast your spell,” Frank suggested, and a moment later, Heather blinked, grateful to see again.

“So, what do you mean the light is dead?” Heather asked.

“Undead can see spirits,” Frank said. “Ghosts that are normally invisible to the naked eye. The light in the room is only visible to undead and Heather’s undead sight spell.”

“So, its a ghost?” Quinny asked.

Frank shook his head. “I think it’s some form of magic meant to hide something from anybody who isn’t undead.”

“Or a necromancer,” Quinny added.

“What about the runes on the ceiling?” Heather asked. “Are those dead too?”

Frank looked up and scratched at his head. “They must be hidden the same way. The purpose they serve is meant to be hidden.”

“But who would go to all this trouble?” Quinny asked.

Frank could only shrug.

Heather shook her head. “What’s the point of lighting a room with a light only the undead can see, when the undead don’t need light to see?”

“It has to mean something,” he said he scratched his head.

“This whole room has to mean something,” Quinny said.

Heather looked around and noticed a small dark doorway on the other side of the room. She walked over to it and found a narrow stairwell up that seemed to climb the outside of the tower.

“There's another stairway here,” she said.

“I guess we go up then,” he replied, leading the way.

“This is spooky and all but we’re not getting any experience for this,” Quinny said.

“We can always go back and fight the nillacs,” Heather suggested as they climbed up.

They arrived in another high ceiling room. The floor here was rings of blue stone set in white. It was opulent with furnishing that had long since started to rot. This included a huge bed, a dresser, a standing mirror that had fallen and broken. Giant urns that once held plants. Tables, chairs, rugs, chest, and more bookcases. Laying on the floor near the center of the room was a skeleton in a rotting robe. He had the remains of a black beard glued to his chin by dead flesh. His arm was broken, and so too were several of his ribs.

“This was a wizard of some kind,” Frank said. “Something came in here and killed him.”

“What kind of wizard?” Quinny asked.

“And why didn’t he come back after he died?” Heather asked. “Why would he abandon his stuff?”

Frank tried to turn the body over, but the bones came apart, and the black robe disintegrated. He fished through the bones until he found a necklace that he carefully lifted and held in the air for all of them to see.

“Well, we know what kind of wizard he was now,” Quinny said as they beheld the amulet of a silver skull set in a ring of black.

“A necromancer,” Heather whispered.