How did you know you were at the cusp of reaching the Tower?

  Maybe it was because you looked out the back of your transport and saw green tipped grass in small patches by the side of the road, hair spots of demure leaves above in branches that no longer constricted one another into deadly coils.

  Maybe it was the creature you saw grazing by a nearby pasture, peaceful in its meal, and sans the tumorous bump covering an eye the spitting image of a goat you saw in a wooden relief of an old patron, its maintenance a family heirloom of sorts, though each year it looked uglier and thicker in its many paint layers.

  Maybe it was the brief glimpse of tiny Long Ears folks playing amidst decently healthy crops, their laughter a twinkle in the wind. He nearly threw himself out the back trying to get a closer look. but they had already vanished behind some fences.

  These weren't things that existed anymore. He heard of them as stories when he was just a wee brat, from adults who only heard of most of those from their parents. The last child in South Lateno had been born when he was twelve.

  But there were more of those than the eye met, apparently.

  "It is sad to see all this grandeur left behind, and imagine that it once it belonged to us," éliol said, from his furtive glances to the two other hares who hadn't answered him once today, but did occasionally spare attention. "From here to nigh the coasts north, to the edges of the southern plains, territory of our Joas Union."

  "I think I heard something like that," Francies said, mostly out of pity. "But never that name. Didn't it belong to Viela or some other kingdom?"

  "Vela is not—!" He breathed in until his chest was twice the width, then released. "Viela is a pejorative name, and a completely nonsensical word based on mistaken etymology and, frankly, blasphemy. The proper name of this kingdom was Vela, yes, however we must acknowledge it as part of a larger picture, which was the Joas Union."

  Francies raised an eyebrow at the fancy hare. He had been like this ever since that day with the hog, rude but not quite. At least they were in speaking terms now.

  "You know of Joas, right?" éliol asked, frowning.

  "You mean, the most important hare ever born? Heard of him once or twice."

  He rolled his eyes, but nodded. "The only Earthly Divine of the Long Ears, closest to the Pure Ones among all our Tribe before or since. It is said his place of birth was among these meadows, and thus it remains the heart of our kind."

  "Sure thing, but ain't here Cilifus? The Tower, and maybe the Town, I'm not sure how that one fits yet."

  "Now! But before the Tower rose, before the Tormenta cast its shadow, before those filthy vixens hobbled our nations, this was the capital of Vela, the heart of the Heart Kingdoms and guiding hand of the Far ones, Hosile!"

  Francies didn't gag out loud, a small sacrifice in the name of peaceful coexistence. This was the clincher that he had had éliol's measure already, and he knew hares like that well enough. A few lived in South Lateno, while others passed by, helping curb Dweller problem and testing the waters on how all these sad little hares felt about the good kingdoms of old and their inevitable return to power.

  Terms changed and shifted with time and need, but these people remain the same. He might have a clue what a Far Kingdom was after all: those far away boonies where all the poorer hares used to go become soldiers.

  "The crib of Joas! Crown jewel and not only of Vela. All kingdoms of the Union convened inside its palace and sat besides the divine hare's descendants, the Velan royal family! If only they were still here to see the despoiling of their toil..."

  "I have heard many times the tragedy of Hosile's vanishing and the attempts to recover it. Alas, I can't imagine any force in Apodon would be ready for the emergence of the Dwellers, least of all in their center of control." Garces said, shaking his head ruefully.

  "Center of—Please!" éliol's glare came so promptly it felt prepared. "The Union was more than ready to meet any force that came its way if it hadn't been betrayed and assailed from all sides. Wonder who was to blame for that!"

  Garces stiffened on his seat. "There are implications one should not throw lightly little man, and I suggest you learn that blaming your covetous empire's downfall on anything but their own blindness and overstretching one of them."

  Francies looked from éliol's boiled to spilling hostility to Garces' somewhat befuddled brows. Was it worth the trouble asking what exactly they were talking about? History just wasn't his subject. The shirt cocoon was kicking their feet and would soon be moving on to tender flesh thought, so he decided on another time.

  Before the two could bicker more, a shadows passed by them. They had just crossed under the arch of a colossal gate, thick crenelated walls rising almost ten meters high, so few figures walking its length it felt haunted rather than manned.

  Cilifus. The journey felt long, and yet he didn't feel remotely close to ready for its end.

  After the fancy ride and mystical coach, Francies half expected to be taken on a carriage tour of the city, but the wagon made a swerve, slowing down, and soon they were passing under a smaller gate with shorter walls.

  What he saw out the back, he could only describe as a graveyard of wagons. Dozens, some still pristine, some covered in dirt, some badly damaged and missing parts, at least one savaged into nothing but the skeleton frame of a steel chassis with clinging hints of wood and cloth, organized in loose circles from the wall to nearly the center.

  Theirs stopped. Handres popped from up top, shoving his face inside. "We're here! My dear Guests-to-be, if you could please join me outside we have a few more things to discuss before you are free."

  Time had come, and five passengers, the sick hare moaning on Vante's shoulder kept their eyes shut, looked to one another with clear uncertainty. Who would be the first?

  They became four as the bundle of clothes snorted, pulled their hood down over their face, and hopped to their feet. The sum total of the baggage they carried out was a raggedy bindle previously camouflaged against their person, now slung over their shoulder as they strode out like they owned the place.

  In that brief moment they walked by him, Francies could swear he saw the glint of an eye, and had to hold in a gasp. Fierce, cold, borderline predatory in a way so primal he felt it in his spine. Instinct told him he had been wise not catching that one's attention.

  Next was Vante and their companion leaving slowly, demurely, and with not a lick of the previous' swagger.

  Not to be outdone, éliol hopped up, pulling by the handles a trunk that looked twice his weigh empty and failed to budge more than a pinkie's length. "That damned Tower won't wait for us! better get moving!"

  Francies scoffed. Not to say the snob was right, but dawdling wouldn't help his nerves any. He overtook him in a dash, spear in a fist and baggage sack dragging from the other, ready to fight—

  There was a drumming inside his head, so far in the back he wasn't sure it was in his body at all. After weeks of bidding his time and days of enduring impatience it had become ambient, or better yet, sated. He was following the call, after all, late but sure.

  The moment he crossed whatever magical barrier kept the insides of the wagon cozy, the drummer of that endless crescendo with a violence that tore straight through the drumhead, that reverberated across every bone in his bone, screamed its way through every vein, every muscle.

  In that incredible, grotesque moment, he truly felt the call, felt it so keenly he could swear he sensed its desires. It wanted him to look so, so badly it was repugnant. No! Not look. Hear? Taste? No, no, there were no words for what it was begging, not that he knew, not that he would ever know, but then why tell? What did it help? What did it want?! It was almost screaming, howling, bursting—

  His feet hit the ground wrong, and stumbling he went.

  An arm caught him before his head could bounce off the cobblestone, but he still felt the impact. Elbow bruised, bun smarting, side of his tongue bitten, and the song of the invitation returned as a loud, annoying drone. Joy.

  He glanced up, and saw the others had stopped to watch the mess in full. Frankly, he would have been less embarrassed if there was laughter. Instead, the ones already out turned towards Handres, who had been waving their arm, like nothing of interest happened, while a giant came to tend his bruised ego.

  "Francesto, Francies, are you alright?" Garces crouched by his side. "That did not look like a graceful fall."

  "Yup, and it sure wasn't." Francies accepted a helping hand back to his feet. "I'm the one who spent my life stepping around rough terrain and I'm the one who fell on my face. Explain that?"

  "Are you feeling ill? I have heard of some unlucky few who do not take well to rides of any sort." he said.

  "Countless are the ill that plagued Hosile since—Uuuuunphffff! T-the vanishing of its people, perhaps the ground is simply—Hhhhhhmgh! U-uneven." éliol said, somehow wrestling his monstrous luggage to the ground with himself, much to Francies' awe. He realized that thing actually had wheels. Tiny, pathetic wheels that didn't look capable of bringing it far, but who knew.

  "Did neither of you notice the difference?" Francies asked, and at two nonplussed looks, felt insane. "You know? To the noise? The Call of the Tower?"

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "What in the Churn are you talking about? You know what, tell me later, Handres won't stop waving us over." éliol left them behind with the hair raising scratch of metal on stone.

  Garces though stayed, crossing his arms with a grunt. "Forgive me if I misunderstood, but did you just say you hear the Call?"

  "Don't you? It's the Call. Ain'ta proper sound, no, but kind of is, right? Like a thunderstorm at the back of your coconut, or a tremor."

  "That... is not how I would describe it, no."

  Francies moistened his lips. "Who knows with all this Tower stuff? Maybe it's different for everyone."

  "Yes. Maybe so."

  Meanwhile. Handres had not stopped waving.

  The round courtyard looked wider from the ground. Life skulked in between the rotting wagons, drew cobwebs around their darkest nooks, nested under pried open benches. If Francies didn't hear whispered conversations from unseen observers, he would have mistaken it for abandoned.

  The centerpiece this courtyard had been built around was a tall, wide, polished obelisk of milky blue stone. Built work of art, Francies avoided looking at it directly. Not because of any direct property of the obelisk, but because he knew what he would see right behind it, far and yet so close, and he didn't want another trip so soon.

  Much safer to look at was Handres with their faded mask, patting the monument like an old friend. "Welcome, welcome, dearest Guests-to-be, to the first day of your new lives, to the true Heart of Levelas, beginning of its end and end to its beginning, the humble Town of Cilifus! Named after, oh, who am I kidding, you can see it perfectly well."

  Francies pointedly tried not to, instead watching the expressions of his fellow passengers. All around, grim faces paled at the sight of the Tower, exceptions being the walking rags, mysterious as always, and éliol, openly bristling at their coach instead.

  "Now, you may be ready, eager even, to dive into this opportunity head first, but there are some issues we must address before. Namely—"

  "Ah' dun' car', can Ah' go?" the bundle said, in what had to be the longest sentence out of their mouth since she kicked éliol's shin.

  "... Namely, that at the moment you are not citizens of Cilifus yet."

  Francies frowned at Handres, and almost missed the moment the bundles walked off. "Dun' car', goin' now."

  Handres cupped both hands around the bottom of their mask and spoke louder. "Indeed! While being Guests do afford you certain rights within our walls, outsider Initiates are bound to certain requirements before they become citizens and are thus allowed to trade, purchase property, participate in— Can't believe it, she actually walked right off! Goodness, such a troublesome one."

  Divided between watching the weirdest of his fellow passengers act exactly as expected and glancing between the others to see if anyone smelled the foul in Handres words, he was surprised to find nobody looked too shocked. Did they know already?

  "Where was I? Oh, yes!" Handres said. "As non-citizens, or semi-citizens as I much prefer, you aren't allowed to purchase housing, trade in certain establishments, or access public or most Guild services such as inns, taverns, bathhouses, outhouses, toilets... Am I forgetting something?"

  "E-excuse me, I had heard Cilifus institutions put severe restrictions on the passage of visitors, but is this treatment not excessive?!" éliol said, and for the first time Francies felt in step with him. "Toilets, bathhouses, lodging, are we supposed to not maintain our hygiene?!"

  "Oh no! There is a Guild dedicated to the comfort and well-being of visitors, but those will not deal with Initiates." Handres said, interrupting éliol's conniptions with a hand. "However! That is not to say we are leaving you to starve on the streets! It only means that you must follow certain norms established by our governing body, the Council of Lances.

  "For a semi-citizen to become a full time citizen, they must first accomplish two tasks to prove their commitment to the Game: Gain at least Rank and therefore a Role, then finish their first expedition into the First Floor of Cilifus. But hold on to your knickers, because you can't just dive right in, not anymore. You have to follow procedure and register at the Notary's Office downtown so you—!"

  "Wait a second!" Those were the first words Francies ever heard out of Vante's mouth above a whisper, so rough they sounded like they had picked that shovel from inside their throat. "We've family here! Don't you people let citizen's family register for free?"

  "Sorry, only direct children!" Handres said.

  "B-but, uh, lookie here, we aren't exact in condition to go inside that thing, are we?" Vante pointed to their companion, held by the armpit and looking completely unaware other than following every motion with swimming eyes."I-I've heard you can get these Ranks things outside too, right? T-that would do, wouldn't it?"

  "In part! But no, you need at least one expedition under your belt as well, to prove your commitment to the Game."

  "W-what game is even worth doing that much?"

  Francies had the same doubt. He didn't know anything about any game that didn't involve dice or running around with your friends, let alone one worth going inside the place all Dwellers were supposedly born from.

  Through the blank mask, Francies still felt Handres staring at them like they had a dry nut for a brain. Vante stepped back, a bead of sweat descending the sliver of skin exposed by the collar of their coat. "Have you never read your own invitation? The Game of Heaven, of course, the whole reason it exists at all."

  "This isn't what we agreed to," Vante said "This isn't what you fucking told us."

  "I did exactly as I promised." Handres said, voice low. "Past that, I can't help you."

  There was a heavy tension in the air. From the way Vante gripped their spade, Francies half expected it to fly at their head. Instead, they withdrew, step by step leaving them behind, and this time Handres didn't say a word.

  "S-so, that's all? You go for trip inside the Tower and we're good?" Francies asked.

  "Oh, of course! Mostly!" Handres returned to their usual cheer. "Commitment is a very important trait for our citizens to have. Some would say the most important! Speaking of, look behind me, there is one more thing you have to commit to mind."

  Francies wouldn't, not when it meant an eyeball full of Tower, but risking the smallest peek he could muster he noticed writing. Letters cut big and blocky into the obelisk's stone, but unfortunately not the preternaturally readable ones of his Invitation. He left the other passengers behind, searching for a better angle that wouldn't put his mind in peril.

  Before he could find it, Handres came through. "All are welcome to Cilifus. All must recognize the Heavenly Piercers and their Council of Lances as the highest authority in Cilifus. The New Faith of Cilifus must be respected. All must contribute to the Game of Heaven. None may harm a Guest without due cause. None may steal rightful property from Guests of Cilifus. None, not even Guests, may breach or spread the secrecy of the Tower Mechanics."

  They looked side to side, to each of the three in turn. For doubts? Questions? Nobody was in the mood anymore.

  "This is old-old. Go looking and you will find more recent, better worded, expanded versions, and those are the ones you should memorize proper!" They said. "Honestly, even for its time, this one is a little too short.

  "The Tower of Cilifus first emerged two years into the Tormenta's reign, and the first Invitations flew out four years after. I don't need to tell you what came after, right? The most horrific war since, the Invitation Wars, which many of your relatives must have suffered through, and whose dead you can still pick out of the grass if you go frolic outside our walls."

  Garces nodded, solemn, but didn't interrupt.

  "Back then, there wasn't a Town of Cilifus. There was an empty capital turned battlefield, and even reaching the entrance of the Tower without being caught and executed by one of the groups vying for its power was a trial as big as surviving inside, where their Guest Parties hunted you down!

  "What we had were a group of like minded individuals who fought from the depths of the abyss out for independence, who waged a losing battle against tenfold their numbers in Guests and near a thousandfold in Uninvited. They were the ones who picked the rubble clean with their own two hands and pieced it back together into a home where Guests would never become victim to Levelas' past, a place comfortable enough you could built a family, a business, a thriving life without the violence of the past!"

  Instead, they had built a town that sent them marching straight back into the Churn.

  Handres continued, voice choked by unseen tears. "They were the Heavenly Piercers then, now, and forever more! And these are the rules they first devised their society around. Incomplete, perhaps a little unexpected, but core nonetheless. We call them the Laws of the Tower, and if you are to follow anything or anyone in your time here, make sure it's them above all else. Your well being hinges on that!"

  The lecture ended in resounding silence. Skittering in the grass, the squeals of webbed prey, a rising growl courtesy of a snobbish, glaring hare.

  "Now, any questions? Make sure you ask them now, there aren't many good teachers left around these days," Handres said, perfectly neutral.

  Francies raised there hand. "Where did you say that Notary thing is, again?"

  After all, if he wanted to get this place's mark, he would have to see it for himself, rather than have it spat in naked contradiction to his reality. First impression is that Cilifus stank. City, Tower, servants too, all so suspicious it made him shiver.

  Handres gave a mostly straightforward direction, though what they meant by "under the Uppertown" he would need to see.

  "Thanks for the ride, by the way. Pretty sure you saved my hide." Francies had never been good at parting words, but he didn't want to turn around and leave in silence.

  "It's my pleasure , dear Guest-to-be! Really, It's my reason to live." Handres shrugged. "But if you let me say one final thing..."

  "More to commit to mind?" It was Francies intention to joke, but looking over his shoulder he paused, taken by the impenetrable darkness of Handres' eyes again

  "Be careful." they said.

  "I think we'll all be?"

  "You in particular. Watch out for what you let show."

  "By which you mean?"

  Nothing, apparently. There was no answer, only the attention of a body he was now sure didn't move without intention. He considered insisting, that wasn't the kind of line you dropped without explanation, but he did have an idea what they meant, he did pull a very stupid stunt in public and in a place he didn't trust in the least, after all. And if that wasn't it?

  "Aight. I'll stay on my toes," he said, ignoring his sudden need to run as fast as he could.