The tower was expectedly hollow, with some dead leaves softly resting at the base. However, the lack of dust or any sign of animal activity was quite surprising, especially with the limited ventilation. The stairs were clean, the surface smooth as if someone had come and polished it every day. As Istha climbed up every step, she felt not the slow tiring of her legs, but some kind of renewed strength, giving her more energy to reach the next step, and the next. Being a spiral staircase practically encased inside blank walls, it was a bit claustrophobic, but Istha paid no heed to it, her head only facing upwards, the sounds of her steps echoing in the small chamber.

It was honestly a little unnerving. She was alone, unarmed, her magic rendered useless. If there were to be some hostile creature, no matter how unlikely it may be, she would certainly be in trouble. Compared to the bright sunny skies outside, the tower itself was almost some kind of abyssal void, being lit only by light creeping through cracks in the walls. She hummed a little tune to keep herself busy, to entertain herself in the silence.

Finally, she reached a ladder to a trapdoor… or what remained of a trapdoor. Here, the wood had all but rotted away, leaving only the iron skeleton, allowing the light to pierce through the gaps. It took some effort to push the trapdoor open, but it was quite easy even for her weak build. As she scrambled out, the light once again bathed her body, the gentle wind welcoming her with soft touches to the neck. She had reached it. The top of the empty tower, not knowing what exactly lay there.

But that was the spirit of adventure, wasn’t it? Journeying all alone, venturing into areas her party didn’t even dare to enter. She was the least experienced of them all, but with sheer willpower alone (and some food), she reached her goal in a relatively short amount of time. She scoffed. Adventurers? Their slowness and caution were like that of kingdoms. Even merchants with all their calculations seemed to take more risks than her so-called adventuring party. Eight adventurers? No, she was the only one, the only willing to take daring risks. They were probably still searching for her near their camp, not realizing she had already reached their final goal.

“How pathetic!” she laughed before reminding herself to examine the area. She was going to just witness the island in its full glory from above, but instead, her eyes wandered to a rather unattractive stone, opaque and dark, sitting on a small pedestal and protected by a long-rusted iron cage. Strange. The only piece of metal that seemed to have decayed in the tower. The stone wasn’t particularly large or held much value. It was just sitting there, unmoving, boring, holding only a little piece of niche exotic feeling to it, and to them, the entire island felt exotic enough already.

“What is this thing…” Istha seemed to see something more. It was extremely attractive, diverting her gaze, her thinking, all to itself, with none of the island’s tallest trees being able to gain her attention. She felt that same kind of calling, that kind of beckoning before she entered the tower. The stone, as ordinary as it looked (other than its shockingly black color, of course), had some charm in her eyes. She barely blinked, examining every edge, every little detail the stone contained. There wasn’t a lot to explore compared to the large expanses of the island, but Istha found herself mesmerized, completely immersed with whatever hidden beauty it seemed to be seducing her with.

Come. Come and I shall show you. A voice spoke in her head, a sensation seemed to tug her hand. She imagined it was the stone, a trapped soul inside choosing her to break it free. Chosen, chosen… She liked this word, so special, unique to her own. It was quite comforting, making her feel she was, indeed, important. Not neglected, but needed.

Touch it. The gates are open for you, my child. The cage withered away, the iron disintegrating into dust. The wind seemed to whisper to her, nudging her onwards. Even the rustle of the trees in the distance sounded like a choir, chanting, singing for her, calling her to just take another step. The Elyfesta continued shining on the tower, indifferent, its glory as bright as ever.

Istha now found herself standing before the stone, so close, so intimate. Her hands were twitching, aching to touch it, but somewhere inside her, she felt a deep repulsion towards the stone. It was neither ugly nor beautiful, being just ordinary and unappealing, but then, why was she feeling this raging conflict inside her? Her energy swirling inside, as if embroiled in complete chaos, torrents stunning her arms.

“I shouldn’t…” She could’ve just picked it up and claimed it as her own, a souvenir from the rather boring island, but there was a strange sense of obligation not to pick up that stone. Somewhere, inside her subconsciousness, made her refuse to pick it up with such haste.

The magic. Are you still in search of it? The voice continued to tempt her, to subtly goad her with its raspy whispers. It felt far closer, far more real now, as if a figure was standing by her side, its cunning tongue crafting finely-woven words, slipping into her ears.

Touch it. All that you want lies here. Only you can touch it. The stone no longer felt silent. It was calling, calling for her presence, her contact. It only wanted her to touch it. It chose her to touch it. Were the island’s treasures summoning her to retrieve them? Was there a secret that waited so many years for a special individual to discover it? Was there, perhaps, a complete wish-fulfilling spell that could grant her whatever she desired? Fame, recognition, power… Even them?

“But it looks good, though…” she found herself muttering. The light still shone, but Istha felt a coldness rising from her heart, unaffected by any heat. The stone was still there, waiting, biding its time as she fought the invisible tugs.

Touch it.

She couldn’t bear merely looking at the stone anymore. Having forgotten much of her experiences in the camp already, she did not even hesitate as she picked it up. She noticed a small hole, just enough for a needle and string to pass through. Perhaps it could even be her necklace, a lucky charm to protect her.

She grabbed it.

A strong wind blew from the tower, silencing the trees in their chorus, the tides in their shouts. A single ripple of energy reverberating across the entire island.

The stone was beautiful in her eyes. So dark, so mysterious, so peculiar. The noises stopped bugging her, reduced to muffled whispers before they completely went away. As Istha held out her hand, an energy ball immediately materialized, her body feeling the energy directed outward to her palm to sustain the shape.

She gasped. Her magic… It’s returned. All thanks to that singular stone.

It was beautiful, her hands able to cup it together. She embraced it, placing it inside one of her pockets. The stone, now with seemingly all its glory, shone brighter than even the Elyfesta, covering her entire vision in white. She, too, felt power, energy overloading her body, as if she was now capable of nearly anything as a mage, to be one among the greats. Imagine their reactions when they found her suddenly more powerful than all of them! Excitedly, she prepared to take a step backwards… and found her feet glued to the tower, turning into stone.

She had fallen into the temptation, fallen to the cheap tricks, the stone removed from its prison.

The stone was finally awake and alive, rising from its centuries-old slumber. After being sealed for so long, so alone… it was finally free. It had no body yet, being only a consciousness, but that shall wait. After so many years, it finally returned.

A thick fog immediately enveloped the tower, spreading out to the forest. The Elyfesta’s light rapidly began to dim as the fog and clouds hurried to block out the light. Stuck, Istha could only hold onto the stone, her only treasure, realizing her dim-witted mistake as the island began to transform. She stretched a hand towards the sky, reaching for what light that still dared to touch the surface, but her other hand clutched the stone, holding it closely to her chest.

Her body began to rapidly petrify, from the legs to the torso, spreading to the arms, before finally inching to her head. As her vision began to dim and fade, being wrapped in a cocoon of stone, she could only look at the sky in grief.

Was she cursed to be like so for eternity? An act of foolishness, causing her own demise? Bearing the burden with only her silence as a statue?

“Why didn’t anyone warn me?” she wailed as her mouth turned to stone. Her arm, still outstretched towards the sky, frozen, never able to receive the light she once took for granted.

Darkness enveloped the island.

And thus,

Let there be night.