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Bli Mâncare

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Where the mountaintops parted was lands so entrenched in fog that what lay upon it remained obscured. For those that happened to venture close, it was not the acrid smell wafting off the bog lake that captured their senses, but the dissipation of the fog as if swept away by uncanny forces, and the sight of the stone structure it had kept hidden rising to touch the sky. It was like a dark jewel, enticing and ominous as it oozed a certain foreboding that sent a shiver down the spine. Though that didn’t detract from its power to beckon a wary traveler or curious soul to venture beyond its doorway, which emitted just the faintest crease of light.

A light that was far from one of hope.
Noz knew of the tower, of the whispers and gossip tied to the tales of those who ventured too close to its spire. On a clear day, the stallion often caught glimpses of the place in the distance. Though he did make note of its proximity to town, it didn’t appear to be much of a threat beyond that. It appeared no different from the other crumbling and decrepit structures that tended to dot the landscape, forgotten relics yielding to time. They held no worth, except if maybe you were a historian. And even then, they were in such ruin that it would be difficult to extract any useful information from them. Their stonework would probably hold secrets for eternity, never giving them up even when reduced to dust.

Still, as the rumors churned, and Noz continued to be haunted by thoughts of the tower, he began to feel a restless urge down to his hooves. If the tower truly did possess a heart of evil, then it would be reckless to ignore its presence. It could fester and pollute these lands Noz called home. Innocent townspeople, people he called friends and lovers, would perish, perhaps already had. If no one was willing to give the tower more than a passing thought, or was scared away by rumors, then the stallion would take the deed on by himself.

His hide cape with its furred trim was secured around his broad shoulders to protect him from the elements, and he donned his trusty spear with its honed and deadly point on his back. Once armed and clothed, Noz gathered provisions and struck out on a dull gray morning. It was not a far trek. He knew the terrain well. Before midday, he had reached the valley where he had deducted the tower was bound to reside. Huffing, his nostrils filled with dense air, a thick fog swirling before his eyes. One of his hooves scraped uncertainly against the stone pathway. His ears flickered. All was silent, and he could barely see a few feet in front of him.

Still, a creeping, budding dread thrummed through his veins, making his fur stand on end. The stallion could feel his muscles threatening to seize. With a hand he fought to keep steady, Noz lit the lantern he’d brought with him, and raised it against the massive wall of fog. Through its glow, the mists parted, though barely. Enough, though; enough to see the tower rising like a monolith that had been cast out from the depths of subterranean passages, black as pitch and exuding menace. And in the moat of gloom surrounding it, like phantoms haunting the murky bog, gazes burned with malevolence in the colors of abject evil. Brilliant green, and blood crimson, and even eerie violet. The tower’s guardians were prepared to stand in its defense.

Despite his best efforts, Noz couldn’t hold back the soft whinny that escaped his muzzle. Still, the longer he stared at the abomination, the more he began to wonder. Of the tower’s origins, of what its presence foretold. More so about what nature of dark mind or creature could have implemented a design so corrupt, so against the core design of anything natural in the world.

As the stallion pondered, he felt grim determination settle over him. Even merely gazing at the tower unsettled his equine instincts. He recognized it for what it was: a fertile nest for wickedness. Its presence could only herald danger for the lands. If left to its devices, who knew what it could eventually wrought.

That notion was what compelled Noz to venture forward at last. The clop of his hooves seemed to synch to his pulse as he approached the tower’s sealed doorway. It was the only sound on the air still. Even the tower’s guardians continued to remain silent, not even a breeze stirring around them. Noz was calm, now, almost uncannily so. All his anxious thoughts of this terrible place were fading, blanketed by the progression of his hoof steps, and of his desire to enter the walls of the infernal structure.

This place now seemed to beckon his soul, to roost there like a long-forgotten lover that had come back to call.
Noz was filled with a burning desire to know this tower’s dark secrets, and knew he had to drive its evil back into the crevice from whence they came.
The stallion’s palm graced the door, searching its ornate stonework for a way to break its seal and enter.

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Gorgeous art commission done by the amazing background artist  Tommyzz123
This is the continuation commissioned story written by  Ashke. Such a wonderful writer to work with.
My stallion sure goes into such unfathomable adventures.