Bastian took a deep breath and activated one of the arrays. The room lit up with a brilliant flash of silver light, and the next moment, everything went black.
When his vision cleared, he found himself standing in an unfamiliar place. Dazed from the teleportation, Bastian blinked as the world around him came into focus. And then he froze.
Towering before him was a massive, foreboding structure: a dark, ancient tower. Above him, the sprawling branches of an enormous elf tree stretched into the sky. There was no mistaking it. He was in the elf tribe. But something was wrong.
The black tower looming in front of him was unlike anything he had ever seen. Though he was deep within the elven village, this tower had never been here before. It was ancient, ominous, and surrounded by an eerie, otherworldly presence.
Ghostly wails filled the air. Countless spirits swirled around the tower, moving in endless, tortured procession. Some floated silently, like the condemned souls of the underworld, while others screamed and thrashed as they were dragged, one by one, into the gaping holes of the tower. The openings were endless, as though they could devour every soul in existence.
To an ordinary person, this might appear to be nothing more than a wizard's tower. But to someone with Bastian's sight, it was clear, this was no ordinary place. It was a hellish construct, a prison for thousands of souls, a place of torment and despair.
Suddenly, the sharp clanging of alarm bells shattered the stillness. Huge, lumbering golems sprang to life around the tower, their eyes glowing with menacing light.
"Warning! Warning!" the automated voices boomed.
Bastian's heart raced. He had no time to waste. This was no place for exploration.
"Faster! Move faster!" he shouted to himself, rushing to reactivate the teleportation alter.
But just as the silver light began to envelop him, he saw something that made his blood run cold.
Amidst the countless souls drifting toward the black tower, Bastian recognized three familiar figures. Uncle Charles. Aunt Martha. Little Gearardl.
Their once warm, familiar faces were now twisted in death, disfigured by the horrors they had endured. Their eyes were vacant, yet somehow, as they approached the tower, they turned to look back at him. For just a moment, they seemed to remember. And then they were gone, swallowed by the tower.
Bastian's heart shattered. The joyful smiles of the giant family, the warmth of their love, were now twisted into his worst nightmare. Their cries in life had turned into the silent agony of souls lost in death. The silver light took him, but the image of their faces stayed with him, the most painful memory of his life.
***
Magic, as powerful as it may seem, is never born out of thin air. It always requires something in return.
Miracles, too, come with a price.
The moment the shimmering light of the transmission faded, Bastain moved with quick precision, taking the risk to dismantle the transmission gem. It was a gamble, but the explosion that could've leveled the area was averted, at least for now.
Despite their luck being as poor as it was, Bastain clung to the hope that the Elf Wizard was still nearby in the village and could be arriving soon. There was still time, time to evacuate, to escape before things grew worse.
"It's just bad luck. But we'll be fine. If this teleportation Alter failed, there's always another one," Bastain muttered, though his face betrayed a sense of unease.
What had just happened gnawed at him. The eerie scene that unfolded moments ago was too strange to process fully, yet he didn't have the luxury of pondering it now. He shook his head and gritted his teeth.
"Have the elves lost their minds? Do they even understand what they're messing with?" he hissed to himself.
The children standing nearby, their faces filled with anxiety, watched him closely. Bastain swallowed his frustrations. He couldn't afford to let his fears show; not now, not to them. His role was to guide and protect, not to sow panic.
Instead of venting aloud, Bastain kept his suspicions to himself. Quietly, he scribbled down a message on a piece of parchment, folding it carefully. It was insurance, something to be sent by one of the children should anything happen to him. A contingency plan, for when things inevitably spiraled.
This time, when he activated the next teleportation array, everything clicked into place. The familiar hum of energy filled the air, and as the glow enveloped them, everyone exhaled, the tension finally releasing.
"It's the North," Bastain said as they materialized. "Not far now."
They found themselves in a hollow, sheltered at the bottom of a cliff. An ice-cold spring gurgled nearby, partially hidden by rocks and thick vegetation. It was remote, but it was safe.
Bastain wasted no time. He released his eagle spirit, closing his eyes to see through its sharp vision. From the eagle's perspective, he scanned the surroundings, orienting himself. Then, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
They were close, close to the mountains' edge. The most treacherous part of the journey was behind them. Ahead lay several paths leading out into the world beyond. Unlike the perilous trails within the mountains, they now had options. They were no longer trapped on a single route, vulnerable to the relentless chase of any hunter.
"Let's head for the Giant's Valley," Bastain said, his voice steady. "We need to find the Bram the great."
The snow crunched beneath their feet as the group set off, a large figure leading, followed by a trail of smaller footprints. Bastain, the protector, marched ahead with the children trailing behind him, their faces a mixture of hope and fear.
The path they had begun was fraught with danger. What lay ahead was anything but easy.
The vast expanse of the ancient continent teemed with creatures of unimaginable power. Ancient tribes, long separated, kept watchful eyes on one another. Dragons roamed freely, their colossal forms a constant threat, never bothering to conceal their presence.
As Bastain and the children made their way through the wilderness, they became the subjects of wary, calculating gazes. Giants traveling through open land drew attention and attention often turned into peril.