The next few days were quite mundane: moving supplies from the ship, expanding their camp, and of course, little bits of exploring into the forest. Tamarkrh had proudly named the island “Atrurh”, a mix of the words “eight” and “land” in his native language of Staegondian. Deilsa regularly went out to fish, often returning with a modest load of small fishes, enough to feed the entire party for a hearty meal. Steadily, they were making progress, and the preparations for a full-scale exploration were in its advanced stages. Each had their role, and each contributed greatly to the overall progress.

All except Istha. Without her magic, she had become somewhat of a liability to the party. Despite the initial inconveniences without the presence of a mage, it was simply adapted and overcome with Nal’s intellect and experience. She wasn’t physically strong, so she could only sit by the campfire, munching on seaweed and fish while the others worked.

Her eyes wandered to the tower, so majestic, so tempting. A pillar of mystery and seeming eternity. Who once inhabited this island? Why was the tower built? How did they live? She felt all the answers could just be answered if they made an expedition there, but alas, she would have to wait for the entire party to be ready.

The Elyfesta still shone brightly on the island, showering it with its blessings, but she had begun to detest the Lifegiver, giving the island so much energy yet not providing the means for her to harness it. Was it merely mocking her?

Wait… She doesn’t need the permission of the other members, nor does she need to wait for them. Despite having weaker survival skills, she believed she was still able to survive on her own for at least a day or two.

It was decided quite quickly. She would explore there. Alone. All that she needed was an opening to slip away.

“I managed to get a rough sketch of our area,” Kaius announced, interrupting Istha’s thoughts as he reappeared at the campsite. He had left early this morning for more mapping, and already in his hands was a relatively detailed picture of their surroundings, the coast marked out clearly with various markings and annotations indicating different landmarks. “It isn’t complete as I’d like it, but I think it gives a good picture of what this island is made of.”

Curious, Tamarkrh approached him, wiping his hands on his trousers before receiving the incomplete map, placing it on a felled log. Silently, Rhu followed along, poking his head just behind Tamarkrh’s shoulder.

“Interesting,” he muttered as he took note of each annotation. “The rock formations just a short walk to the east can be a good vantage point. And this… piece of land here you wrote can be set up as a temporary campsite?”

“It’s roughly a third to halfway between us and the tower, assumed to be at the center of the island,” Kaius explained. “I also found traces of a path that seems to lead to the tower, with slightly thinner shrubbery, so we can utilize it as a road of some sort, making the journey easier.”

“We should probably get everyone available here,” Tamarkrh said before shouting towards several of them. “Hey! Gather round!”

“Deilsa is still fishing,” Ulin said as she arrived, her ax left behind near a pile of logs.

“Nal is busy making a curtain of sorts to block the wind at night,” Luri reported. “He sure does seem more like an engineer than an alchemist.”

“It’s not as if there are potions for him to mix in this environment,” Kaius joked.

“He’s making those as well,” Luri responded before dropping to a whisper. “Just don’t call them ‘potions’ within his earshot. It’s not exactly what he sees them as.”

With five out of eight of them gathered in one place, analyzing Kaius’ findings, and another two focused on their respective tasks, it was far too easy for Istha to escape. Her light feet skipped across the soft sand, feeling the little grinded down rocks tickle her as she made her way to Ulin’s ax. Carefully, she reached her hands toward the tool, and removed it from its place.

It was surprisingly light for her, the tool obviously made with much skill. The ax head, although slightly battered from all the logging, was in great shape. Along with her food that she kept in a pouch, it was all she believed she needed.

And thus, while the others were still discussing further plans, she had already snuck into the forest. A lone, young, and inexperienced adventurer, heading into the thick woods, making her trek towards a tower untouched for centuries. A tower, although silent, screamed for her to approach it. Although made of heavy stone bricks, seemed to move towards her, begging for her to embrace it.

It was a peculiar experience. She had seen Ulin chop up the logs into smaller pieces of wood, sweating pouring from her forehead, her toned muscles making a strong effort with each hack. Yet as Istha herself ventured further, clearing the small bushes and trees away, she managed to do so with little difficulty. Eventually, she could even just use one hand to wield the ax, the other pushing away leaves and branches.

She was not experienced in any way, but even she knew… this felt too easy.

However, despite the smooth journey she has had so far, the incline, the fatigue, does not deceive her. The soft winds blew, but she was still sweating profusely. The ax was now more of a crutch, the head often lodged in strong trees to support her. Her legs were beginning to shake a little. Her stomach grumbled.

She realized, back at home, she would usually eat around this time.

She sat down, opening her pouch filled with dried berries along with some leftover crackers from the ship. Adventuring was not the thrilling journey she had expected. The preparations were tedious, the journey itself was tiring, and even once they had discovered this island, it felt honestly… boring, empty. There was nothing for her to do, nothing for her to give with her magic skills strangely confiscated, disappearing into nothingness. She felt the release of energy from her body every now and then, but instead of some sign, some sort of light indicating the presence of concentrated energy, there was nothing.

She began thinking of her home, her mother probably serving a hot meal of vegetable soup with some sort of meat, depending on whatever was cheap on the market. Her father was probably staying up late to prepare lessons for his students. Her younger brothers were probably mock sparring, pretending to be a great knight of old, firing mock crossbows that shot arrows faster than a diving falcon, slashing each other with swords burning with fire. Or at least that was what they would say as they eventually devolved into a rough wrestling match.

The Elyfesta finally dipped below the horizon. Night had come. The cool lights of luminescent flowers decorated the ground. Looking at the trees around her, Istha eventually fell asleep, leaning on a blackened trunk.

She was awoken by the reflection of the Elyfesta’s light, shining in her eyes through a leaf drenched in dew. How annoying. The source for all life, the source of all energy and magic, now waking her up from her comfortable slumber. It was not a pleasing sensation.

She groggily stood up, continuing on her journey. She felt the presence of the tower growing ever stronger. Others said it was merely a part of one’s instincts or gut feelings, but she knew they wouldn’t understand. It was the result of awareness with the energy around her. Although she had lost the means to do magic, it did not mean she failed to continue her other, more subtle practices. She was near. Quite near. Perhaps within a thousand steps.

She trudged on. The trees had become more sparse, the bushes now bending away from her body as she touched them. They still retained their rich vitality and color as were their brethren by the sea, but the Elyfesta was able to shine more frequently and intensely now, which she rather disliked. On a more positive note, neat blades of grass were beginning to appear, and after several hundred steps, they had completely covered the ground, becoming a beautiful field of natural beauty. The trees were gone. The bushes too.

Before her, finally, was the tower, stretching to the skies, decorated and embellished by withered vines at its base. There was no window or slit of the sort, and the top were only merlons built in regular intervals. There was no particular beauty to it other than the seemingly handcrafted stones that made the tower itself. It was more like a pillar, an obelisk, erected to remember some forgotten person or group of people. She had arrived.

As she circled around the base, she found an entranceway, guarded by two pillars and entered by rising up a flight of stairs. There were traces of a door once existing here, but all that remained were some hinges and a raised platform.

“That was easy,” she commented, holding in her excitement. The others should’ve realized her absence by now, if not yesterday. She had little time. The entrance was inviting, the insides seemed to be shockingly clean. Despite the lack of windows or slits, light still came in through tiny gaps in the walls, acting almost as little wisps or torches, guiding her way upwards.

It beckoned to her. Come, it seemed to say with an outstretched hand. Come, and I shall show you.

Istha entered.