The tower looms over the dense ravine, its jagged silhouette cutting into the purple dusk like a broken tooth. Vines clutch the stone walls like desperate fingers, and the wind moans through cracked arrow slits. The only entrance—a narrow landing halfway up the side—is blocked by an iron grate and a heavily armored guard with a halberd planted like a flag.

Inside the tower, an old mechanism grinds faintly behind the walls, ticking like a heartbeat. Arcane sigils flicker uncertainly on the floor, reacting to movement. Behind them, somewhere deep in the tower, lies whatever Callie came here for—something valuable, dangerous, or both.

Callie stands just out of reach, one boot balanced on a broken gargoyle’s nose, fingers white-knuckled on a climbing rope that’s fraying faster than she’d like. She’s covered in soot, scraped up from a trap she definitely didn’t see, and holding a glimmering brass idol tucked into her belt like a bad secret.

Blocking her way through the landing is a guard: tall, impassive, clearly not in the mood to be charmed. He’s already raised the halberd once, just enough to prove he’s serious.

Callie flashes him a grin that’s far too casual for someone teetering on a gargoyle.

“Right, right, I completely understand. No entry, off-limits, sacred ground, all that. Very official. But here’s the thing—you don’t actually want to fight me. Not because I’m dangerous—though I am—but because I’m very, very annoying, and if you force me to stay out here, I will start telling you the plot of every play I’ve ever seen. From memory. Backwards."

"Or… you could just step aside, let me grab the thing-that-may-or-may-not-be-cursed, and we all walk away with our limbs attached. Sound fair? No? Still no? Ugh, fine."

"Listen, can I at least come in long enough to explain why this idol is humming like an angry bee and possibly about to explode?”