- Jyre: The Urchin - Day 1: 11pm

I stared up at the tower, which was nestled halfway up the steep hillside. It was a hauntingly eerie image in the fading light. I could have gone up the stairs, I suppose, but then I would have had to face ridicule from the servants and guards, if there were any. So I chose, instead, to take the back route. I had traversed this way once before but that had been in daylight. The area I had chosen to climb, sheltered by plant growth from any view from the tower, looked a lot steeper in the dark. The initial stages were easy enough. The ground was rocky with tufts of grass sprouting here and there. They gave enough purchase for me with which to haul myself up. I was past the halfway point when I came across the real problem. An overhang, like a miniature cliff, towered at least twelve feet above my head. The rock-face in front of me looked like a bowl standing on edge. The rock itself was as smooth as glass. I would have turned back, had I not seen this place before. Skirting my way around the lip of rock that made the bottom edge of the bowl, I eventually came to the thin crack that ran from the bowl's base to its top. With a little effort, I managed to squeeze into the fissure. It widened slightly just above my head and I was able to grab on to the rough rock and pull myself up, bracing my feet against the rock to stop myself falling. Had I been any bigger I would not have been able to do this; there are times when being a titch has its advantages. By repeating the process of reaching, bracing and pulling until my arms felt as though they were about to fall off, I eventually managed to drag myself out of the bowl and onto the overhang above. Once there I just fell on my back and stared up at the darkening sky, panting.

The tower itself was perched on a small shelf halfway up the tall rocky hill. The structure could be described as having two parts: the mansion-like base and the tall tower..

The wide mansion-like base sprawled out across the shelf in an irregular shape consisting of rectangular and cylindrical units with arched roofs, some connected by short hallways. It filled the shelf easily, leaving little room to walk, or even stand. Many of the units and halls protruded out of the rock-face, which lent me to conclude that there was much of this house hidden inside the hill. From what I could see by the light of the lampposts at the front of the house, the entire structure was made from black shiny stone, ornately decorated with all sorts of relief carvings. Stained glass windows circled the structures, each one different from the one that came before. The entire mansion gave a clear sense of carefully calculated randomness. Had I approached from the stone path and stairway it would have been impossible to see any of this, for it was blocked by the dense foliage and the fences that channeled any visitors to the front door whilst preventing any exploration of the property.

The tower part itself was too distant to be clearly made out by the light of the lampposts lining the front walk. The night sky was overcast, so not even starlight could illuminate its features. It was tall; very tall. It was also a good way into the manor’s structure, standing free of the vertical rock-face that made up the rest of the hill which towered several hundred feet above the tower’s tip. Searching for the most efficient way up, I circled around the structure in front of me, glancing at the relief carvings as I went past. They seemed to be forming a narrative. This particular one showed a man doing battle with an iron golem, and upon defeating the beast, receiving a large shield. I saw my path up as soon as I went around the bend; there was a narrow passage between two of the structures, which formed a path straight to the base of the tower itself.

- Jyre: The Ascent - Day 1: 11:00 pm

Now the tower stretched up into the sky before me, its shape hard to discern against the black starless sky, but its presence harsh and unyielding. I could feel its solidity pushing against the moist nighttime air. I had only a few more boulders to climb up before I would be able to hunt for a way in.

Most would have simply wandered the path up the stairs which gently wove through rocks, but there were men at the front gate. The men, guards with swords, would look upon a small young girl like myself and think awful thoughts. They would not say them, but their eyes would betray them. No matter their words, I would not be able to stand the look in their eyes, not now, not when I so needed to see the look in the eyes of the Lord of this tower again. His eyes were always different.

Besides, someone dressed like me could not present themselves at the front gate of a nobleman’s mansion. My clothes were little more than sewn rags, with an old black curtain torn up and reassembled into a hooded cloak. The cloak, I thought, helped me blend in with the shadows.

But tonight I might as well have left the cloak behind. The underbrush which grew in the lush soil between the rocks concealed me well enough, but the moisture made the cloak damp, making it heavy and harder for me to climb up the rock face. The climb was already difficult enough. Usually I was able to find a gap between two rocks that I could use to get my hands and feet into, so I could pull myself up the nearly vertical surface. After each successful attempt, as I lifted myself clear of the vertical rock face and saw in relief a horizontal shelf, I would fall to my back atop it, panting.

The challenge of the climb kept me focused, and stopped me from thinking too hard about what I was doing. I picked myself back up and looked over the edge I had just climbed up. My eyes happened to fall upon a package, a small painting wrapped in scrap parchment, which I had left behind at the base of the hillside. It was for him, or it was supposed to be anyway. Really, it was for me. It was just a tool; an excuse to see him.

In the beginning, it was different. I had stolen from her. The Lady kept many treasures, most of which I would dare not touch. But there was a work I knew she cherished. It was a painting, done by one whom they all said was very dear to her. I stole it, and snuck into the night. I held a tight hope that this action would wound her.

I remember a time long ago, before I came to The City, when I was in her service, peeking cautiously around the corner to see her standing in the center of the stair hall, gazing up at it. The Lady was tall and graceful, and carried about her a certain warmth. It was not a caring or inviting warmth, but more a warmth that crept under your skin and made you wish that you could pull it from your bones. I remembered her long black hair, which hung from her head like a mass of slender vines.

She would touch the frame of the painting as she looked at it, wooden, but not cut and nailed together, rather natural branches bound by reeds. The painting was abstract, just splashed of red, brown, and green thrown about seemingly at random across the canvas. The painting made me think of a forest, drenched in blood. I did not know why she looked at it, what she saw in it, but I felt that it had to be evil; as evil as she was. Maybe, I thought, if I stole it from her, it would take away some of her power.

‘You must not keep it!’ Els warned me. ‘It was hers!’ Els was always looking after me. He had rescued me from her, though I don’t remember it, and I never found out why.