The last room you enter is… well, not a room, but you're also not going to be leaving it, not safely.
You are on a cracked icy ledge about ten feet wide that extends about twenty feet forward. To your right is a sheer cliff face leading up, coated with ice and snow. To the right is a blackened crater. It looks less like the natural continuation of a cliff and more like a crevasse caused by a horrific explosion of some kind. At your feet are bodies, some humans dressed like bandits, others twisted, unnatural creatures wearing armor. They are armed, and unpleasantly so, but quite dead. You see also abandoned riding tack, possibly blown off whatever poor creature might have been here. There is a lot of gear and there are a lot of bodies and if you wanted to look through everything it would take a while.
The cord winds forward, along the path, over a blackened patch that seems to have been the center of the explosion. Ash covers whatever might remain there, though you see a scrap of white cloth.
At the end, your way forward is blocked by a wall of fallen snow, like an avalanche. A man is standing there, quiet, holding the end of the cord in one hand and the key in the other. He looks like Vanyel, but not Vanyel as you know him in quiet mounds. He's in his mid to late thirties, his hair almost fully white and whipping around him in the cold wind. He is also quite visibly transparent, the scenery seen through him.
Vanyel says, softly, "I'm so sorry. Can you tell me the weight of duty now?"
The Gift 3
You are on a cracked icy ledge about ten feet wide that extends about twenty feet forward. To your right is a sheer cliff face leading up, coated with ice and snow. To the right is a blackened crater. It looks less like the natural continuation of a cliff and more like a crevasse caused by a horrific explosion of some kind. At your feet are bodies, some humans dressed like bandits, others twisted, unnatural creatures wearing armor. They are armed, and unpleasantly so, but quite dead. You see also abandoned riding tack, possibly blown off whatever poor creature might have been here. There is a lot of gear and there are a lot of bodies and if you wanted to look through everything it would take a while.
The cord winds forward, along the path, over a blackened patch that seems to have been the center of the explosion. Ash covers whatever might remain there, though you see a scrap of white cloth.
At the end, your way forward is blocked by a wall of fallen snow, like an avalanche. A man is standing there, quiet, holding the end of the cord in one hand and the key in the other. He looks like Vanyel, but not Vanyel as you know him in quiet mounds. He's in his mid to late thirties, his hair almost fully white and whipping around him in the cold wind. He is also quite visibly transparent, the scenery seen through him.
Vanyel says, softly, "I'm so sorry. Can you tell me the weight of duty now?"