Hard Vacuum: Short Episodes In The Future

The Witchtower

The constant pain was reassurance to Belith that she was still alive. One foot in front of the other, she marched. Each step sent the Black Woods spinning around her. Her body was broken in a bad way, and it wouldn't be long before she died.

The wolves followed, keeping her at the center of the pack. She didn't understand why they didn't attack her, wounded as she was. They simply traveled with her, pausing to rest when she did, and keeping with her slow pace when she moved. At least they kept any other predators away.

Two days of this, and in the afternoon, the wolves suddenly stopped. She looked back at them and they just stood there, lined up as if at the edge of a cliff. Some of them whimpered and pawed at the ground. Whatever it was that would stop a pack of wolves like that must be dangerous. She was already marching towards Death, perhaps it would allow her to greet it with a sword in her hand, cleaving at it with her final throes.

She broke through the brush and foliage into a sudden, wide clearing. At its center was a gigantic tower, taller than any tree she had seen. Perhaps taller than a mountain, the spire stretched impossibly high into the heavens.

The Witchtower.

The tower was ivory white and smooth, like an enormous drop of milk frozen in the moment it splashed on the ground. There were no visible doors or windows. At its base was a statue; a large, stylized figure of a man. The clearing was wide around the whole structure, in a perfect circle. No living thing grew within that ring. It was an otherworldly, impossible place. Belith could barely comprehend what she was seeing.

She took five steps into the ring of death towards the tower when her legs finally gave out. She fell to one knee. I had finally made it, only to die at the doorsteps, she thought to herself.

The statue turned its head to look at her.

She wiped the pain from her eyes with the back of her hand. She must be on the precipice between dream and reality. She was seeing things.

The statue turned its body, and began to walk towards her.

No, this was too vivid. She was seeing this. The statue walked. The Golem! The old shaman had mentioned the god who lived here with his golem servant. She would die in battle after all!

With no little effort, she forced her body back to its feet. The thrill of the coming combat gave her new strength. Dropping her razorbear cloak to the gray, dead ground, she raised her copper sword before her and pointed at the unholy nightmare.

The golem continued to advance, in a slow, steady pace. It tilted its head slightly when she rose, as if regarding her with a curiosity.

Belith drew back her blade and took a step towards it.

That small effort was the last her body would allow. It took consciousness from her, and she dropped to the ground.