Part 1:

“Welcome.” A clear female voice boomed from inside the stone coffin, “You may enter, young one. Your desires have been deemed worthy.”

Cavan stared at the white marble stairs and the open stone coffin, “This can’t be happening…” He stuttered before stumbling to his feet. 

He stepped forward as if pulled in by an invisible force. What could be in there? His hand touched the side of the stone coffin and he leaned on the opening for a moment. He saw the stairs leading far up, but he couldn’t figure out where they went from where he was standing. 

“Should I?” He took a step inside, leaving one foot outside. 

“Welcome.” The voice spoke again. “Please proceed to level one.” 

“Level one?” Cavan questioned. 

“The tower has accepted you. Please proceed to level one.” The voice echoed. 

Cavan gazed back at the empty night, could he leave it behind? He gritted his teeth and stepped inside with the other leg. If the stone coffin had opened, then the tales had to be true, right? What if he could find out where he came from? 

Cavan stepped onto the stairs and slowly walked up, he saw Rawensgrym through the small slits in the stairwell. “How is there a tower here?” He questioned. 

“The tower is unseen, outside of time and space,” The voice resounded. 

“Oh. So you answer questions?” Cavan asked. 

“Yes. I am your guide,” The voice replied. 

He kept walking up the marble stairs, “What am I doin’ here exactly?” 

“You have been accepted,” The guide echoed. 

Cavan stopped, “For what?” 

“To find what you desire the most. Each level of the tower will lead you closer to your desire.” The guide was monotonous in her replies. 

“I am even more confused, and my head hurts.” Cavan sighed and kept walking. 

“You are already healing. Your healing capacity is not at maximum yet, but it is acceptable.” The guide remarked. 

Cavan breathed out, he wasn’t sure what she was talking about. A plain white wooden door emerged in front of him at the end of the stairs. Cavan gazed at it and placed his hand on the doorknob. 

“Should I open it?” He asked. 

“Yes. Welcome to level one.” The guide chimed. 

“Here goes nothing.” Cavan opened the door almost roughly. 

An old woman stared at him, “Come in now, don’t be shy. I need a strong pair of hands.”

“What?” Was all he could say before the old woman pulled him inside. The door seemed to vanish behind him. 

“Get to work,” the old woman urged and pointed to a pile of bricks on the floor. 

“What am I supposed to do?” He examined the bricks and the room carefully. 

It was a tiny chamber with a black wood stove, a small kitchen nook, and a fireplace with a sooty hearth next to it. A fire burned gently in the fireplace, a large black pot hung over it with something cooking inside of it. A rocking chair was placed in the corner with a sheepskin covering it. The walls and floor were made of wood planks, a small portrait of a dark haired man in a fine red cloak hung neatly above the rocking chair. 

“You know what to do,” the old woman replied and went over to stir the pot. 

Cavan stared at the bricks before he lifted one up with his hand. It was surprisingly heavy as if there was something inside of it. He squinted his eyes and scraped at the brick with his finger. It was too rough, his finger hurt after a few tries. 

“Damn it,” He whispered to himself before he remembered the small pocket toolkit he carried on him. 

He dug around in his left jacket pocket before pulling it out. It was black and no bigger the size of his hand. Cavan unzipped it quickly and took out a small flat headed screwdriver. The brick seemed to reveal it’s secrets as he scraped at it carefully. It shimmered gold beneath the rough surface. 

“It’s gold?” He exclaimed loudly. 

“You haven’t even done one yet? Get on with it, kid.” The old lady cast a gaze over at him. 

“So I’m supposed to scrape off every single one?” He questioned. 

The old lady didn’t respond, she simply sat down in the rocking chair and started knitting something. Cavan sighed and stared at all the bricks, how many were there? He counted them in his head, at least fifty. This would take him forever. Why was he doing this? 

“Hey, guide? What is the point of this?” His eyes shifted around the room. 

“Complete the first level to reach the next. Your task is not to clean all the gold bars, but to find the right brick.” The guide echoed. 

“The right brick? In what sense? This doesn’t make any sense?” Cavan was getting frustrated. 

“I cannot give you all the answers, nor solve the task for you.” The guide replied calmly. 

He slumped down on the floor, “Ugh. Nevermind then. I suppose I’m pretty much on my own here. What am I even doin’ here? Don’t answer that. It was a question for myself.” 

Cavan examined the bricks again as he knelt down in front of the pile. The right one? He lifted them up one by one and turned them over, his nose even gave them a whiff. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary with any of them.