Right now, the “seashell”, picked up by Orion and turned into the story was Milian’s question about the ancient structure that used to be on top of Aldaren-Turin’s “wall”.
It happened in a faraway world where people were a lot like us in that their knowledge grew way faster than their self-awareness did. Such disbalance never ends well.
Those people believed that their world was created by gods and that the gods lived in the sky. Eventually, somebody came up with an idea of reaching the sky so people themselves could become gods. The idea turned out to be so strong, captivating, and infectious that it outlived its creator and kept spawning various cults for centuries. The Cult of the Tower was the strongest of them all.
For years, the cultists placed one row of stone blocks above the other, lifting incredible weights with their machines and magic. Countless generations lived and died for the sake of the crazy dream. From birth to death, the cultists toiled at the enormous building site, having little time for anything else. Eventually, the “unnecessary” things like love, games, poems, and songs were forgotten. Only one song, the howling song that helped them keep the rhythm while working, survived in the end. Love and friendship didn’t survive at all, replaced by the endless loyalty to the cult.
Day by day, the cursed tower grew, a black splinter in the skin of the earth.
Meanwhile, the gods watched from above, curious. They threw no lightning bolts and sent no curses upon humanity. Why would they? For a god, hurting a human being is like hurting a feeble-minded child; nothing to be proud of there. Breaking their tower? Sure, the gods could do that easily but why would they? Who in their right mind breaks a baby’s toy? Not gods. So they watched and they waited for little creatures down below to teach themselves a lesson.
…Being born in such a world in such a time is one of the worst things that can happen to a poet. But zealot worlds would die if no poets were born in the most difficult times. So Milia, a little blue-eyed girl, was born in the Tower Cult.
While her peers were building toy towers from pebbles and meowed miserably trying to sing the howling song of the builders, Milia made up songs of her own. There were words in them, rhymes, and music. She could turn anything into a song or a poem: golden autumns, chilly dawns, starry sky – all things she saw around her. The older Milia grew, the more powerful her songs became. And – oh, the horror! – some children left their pebble towers and howling exercises to listen to her sing.
People began talking, spreading rumours and fears around the girl. She is just a child and yet people wander from the true path because of her songs, only children for now but what will happen when she grows up? Then adult engineers and mages, workers and slaves will fall for her witchcraft and the Tower will fall. Then humanity will be doomed to crawl the earth forever and all hope of reaching the sky will be lost.
One early morning, three cult leaders – Chief Engineer, Chief Mage, and Chief Priest – held a council at the foot of the Black Tower. All three were old people, with families, with children and grandchildren of their own. Neither liked the idea of killing a child but they decided that it was necessary.
“For the future of humanity!” said the Mage and the Engineer.
