"You come across a partially-collapsed tower, perilous but possible to climb. After spirals and spirals of half-eaten stone steps, you make it to the roof. Over the top of the parapet, the entire battlefield is visible, and the wreckage is more vast than you had ever imagined. You cannot see a patch untouched. How do you feel when confronted with the true scope of the destruction?"

✦

Gauss stood at the base of the tower, his sharp eyes tracing the crumbling stonework. The structure groaned under its own weight, half-collapsed and barely clinging to the earth beneath it. The wind howled softly through the Moor, a mournful sound that only seemed to amplify the danger looming above.

“You thinking of climbing that?” Tyffyn asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and curiosity. She shifted her weight from one hoof to the other, her usual energy muted by the ominous air.

Gauss gave a faint grunt in response, his jaw tightening instead of giving her a real answer. He stepped forward without another word, testing the first few stones with careful, deliberate movements. The tower’s fragility didn’t deter him; he’d climbed worse, and this place held answers he couldn’t leave behind.

“Right,” Tyffyn muttered, rolling her eyes but following close behind. “Guess I’m climbing a death trap today.”

The ascent was slow and grueling. The spiral steps wound upward endlessly, many of them cracked or outright missing. Gauss’s muscles burned as he pulled himself higher, each step testing the tower’s resolve to hold their weight. Tyffyn’s hoofsteps echoed behind him, her occasional murmurs of “steady now” or “just don’t look down” filling the silence.

At last, they reached the roof. The air was thinner up there, colder, and the wind whipped around them in relentless gusts. Gauss stepped to the edge of the parapet, his hooves scuffing against the ancient stone. He peered over, his breath catching in his chest.

The battlefield stretched before him, endless and unyielding. From this height, the full scope of the destruction was laid bare. The wreckage was incomprehensible—shattered bones, twisted weapons, scorched earth. Not a single patch of ground remained untouched. It was as though the land itself had been scarred by the weight of the conflict, bearing its wounds in perpetuity.

Tyffyn joined him, her usually bright demeanor subdued. “By the stars,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind. “It just keeps going.”

Gauss didn’t reply immediately. His eyes scanned the expanse, cataloging every detail with the precision of someone who had seen too much. The destruction was overwhelming, yes, but it was also familiar. This was the nature of war, the legacy left behind by those who fought without understanding the cost. He’d seen it before, and he’d see it again.

“How many lives do you think were lost here?” Tyffyn asked, her voice wavering. She turned her head toward him, seeking something—a number, an explanation, anything to anchor her in the face of this vast emptiness.

Gauss’s jaw tightened. “Too many.” In a way, his short answers seemed more meaningful than a real explaination.

Tyffyn looked away, her ears flattening. “It’s hard to imagine what could do this. What would drive anyone to…” She trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the desolation below.

“Pride. Greed. Fear,” Gauss said, his voice flat. “It doesn’t matter what started it. The end always looks the same.”

The wind howled again, a haunting reminder of the emptiness that remained. Gauss turned away from the parapet, his expression unreadable. “We’re leaving,” he said curtly, his hooves already moving toward the precarious stairway.

Tyffyn lingered for a moment longer, her gaze lingering on the battlefield. “You ever get tired of it?” she asked suddenly, her voice softer.

Gauss paused but didn’t look back. “Of course,” he said after a long moment. “But it doesn’t stop. So neither do I.”

Tyffyn nodded, though he couldn’t see her. With a sigh, she turned and followed him down the crumbling steps, leaving the vast expanse of destruction behind. The Moor was unrelenting, and so, it seemed, were they.