"What did you just do in there? All the lights outside just turned on," Astarion asked Ethemon with curiosity as he wandered around the ground floor. The first floor looked as though it had been abandoned for ages, littered with empty crates, piles of collapsed stone, and dusty books.
"The master of this place utilized the properties of Sussur blossoms to power the entire Wizard's Tower. I dropped a few into the primary control unit in the basement. Since the external defenses are deactivated, the internal ones should be fine too; surely the inhabitants wouldn't want to constantly dodge traps in their own home." Ethemon patted a book resting on a stone shelf, its cover bearing the faint title *The Ascending Evil*. The pages inside, however, were thoroughly rotted away, leaving only a few fragmented verses: *In every life, a single light. Crawl to the surface, fight for survival. The long road ahead, trampled and crushed. Slaughter the rest, only one survives.*
Astarion stepped closer with curious interest. "Looks like the master of this place was the artistic type." In his distant memories—back when the sun still felt warm and pleasant—he, too, enjoyed curling up with a collection of prose poetry in the afternoon, brewing a pot of flower tea, and quietly savoring a lovely teatime. It was just a pity...
Chapter 69