Prompt: 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?

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Ailin looked around the dungeon they currently walked through, the cobblestone path beneath her hooves laying out a sort of map. Somehow grass grew between the stones despite the darkness of the dungeon and made the path uneven. It was still manageable to traverse through though and safer than traveling upon the grass and dirt in which the long dead lay. Unable to rest, the two coursers could see in the distance as a few rose from their slumber, ripping through the earth to reach the cavern above them. Stomping slowly and awkwardly at first. Each step became more controlled as it got used to walking once more and moved across the horizon. They were tall and two-legged, spindly legs and two more appendages came from the sides of their top half. Flat faced and covered in fabric rags as well as metal plates that vaguely reminded Ailin of armor. Above on posts of what remained of the old infrastructure sat skeletal birds. Empty sockets turned to follow them as if they could really see and chances were they had some means of watching and were just waiting for the right moment to strike. On the ground were rows of bricks arranged into various shapes that had once been buildings and homes. Some were taller and had clearly been walls at some point. Moss and vines began to climb what remained of the stones. Nothing of what she saw seemed natural, as large boulders sat among the rubble, right in the center of some homes or embedded in what remained of some of the walls.
“It seems quiet,” Ailin commented, breaking the near silence.
“The silence can be deafening when you really see how vast the destruction was. How big this place had once been when it was standing. I can only imagine the bustling streets and activity that once occurred here. All that remains are the skeletal monsters and the ruins of a society once great,” Crispin replied.
Ailin’s attention then turned from the landscape to the gray courser guiding her through the dungeon. The moon blessed ether had managed to obtain a contract to hire the more experienced courser to guide her through the Moor of Sleep. It made sense that he would know much more about the dungeon than herself. They had largely been quiet up until now, but Ailin grew curious as to what stories the older dungeoneer held.
“Just how big was this place?” she asked him.
“You could see for yourself.”
Crispin pointed ahead of them and in the distance the ether courser could see what appeared to be a large brick tower. It was old but still intact, for now. Vines wrapped around the outer walls and almost gave the structure an ethereal look if it didn’t also look like it was about to fall apart at the slightest tap. It was tall, nearly to the top of the cavern in which this dungeon sat.
“Is it safe?” she asked.
“Is anything in this dungeon truly safe?” Crispin responded.
“That is fair.”
Moving through the silent landscape, it slowly began to creep up on the mare that had once been the home of many, that creatures used to wander these streets and live their lives here. That the sun once touched this place and warmed the now cold resting place in which the dead now lay. It was almost suffocating. But the image in Ailin’s head was that of a town or a small city. It was hard to truly see how big the battle and the city had been with the ground level perspective she currently had.
The tower drew closer and became more intimidating with each step the pair of dungeoneers took. The doorway was large and arched. Metal hinges barely clung to the sides of the archway and the wood Ailing assumed once blocked the entrance was now long gone. Looking past the doorway the moon blessed courser could only see darkness within the belly of the tower.
“Be careful, the steps in these towers are not usually the most stable,” Crispin said.
Ailin nodded and the two stepped into the darkness.
With a lit lantern, Ailing could see where they were going. The inside of the tower lost that ethereal look of nature taking over. Darkness crept from every crevice and she swore she could hear a dripping sound but she had not seen any water so to speak. The clopping of their hooves on the stone floors echoed up the tower. Ailin shivered from the sudden cold that went down to her very core. Not just a physical cold but there was something more to it, the absence of something that should have been.
“Have you been here before?” she asked the other courser.
“No, not this particular towner but I have climbed many like this and seen with my own eyes the expanse of the devastation,” Crispin replied.
In the darkness the light gray coat of her guide was a comfort, and as Crispin looked back the ethereal blue courser was easily seen in the darkness, like a gentle ghost. Carefully they climbed the steps. With each step up the gray would test the next step ahead before putting his weight on it. Missing steps and steps crumbling beneath their weight made the tower more perilous and they knew they would reach these points once more on their way down and would need to find a way to safely cross, but they were more interested in what lay at the top to stop their ascent into the tower.
Eventually they could see light above them, coming from the top of the tower. Leaving the darkness behind the two reached the platform at the top and approached the parapet around the edge of the flattened surface. Looking over the edge and being careful not to lean against the crumbling parapet, they looked out over the whole dungeon, or at least this particular large chamber of it. The roads below looked like a maze while the remains of buildings were scattered between. More towers just as large sat in the distance with the roads and building ruins filling the spaces between. Looking at the buildings, she realized the boulders had been flung, used as weapons of destruction as one such tower, the whole top missing, had a boulder still embedded in the walls. Wandering figures, the undead, walked the streets below in search of what was no longer there.
“Why did it come to this? Innocents were bound to have been caught in the crossfire, and they shed so much blood.”
“The tale has been lost to time. We can only deduce what happened from what we can see. A grand battle happened in which they used large stones to bring down structures and the total of dead rose and none ever settled. Even after the battlefield was buried beneath the earth the dead never managed to rest. Now they wander, their forms still trapped in that moment of destruction and all who cross their paths are the enemies who once razed this place to the ground,” Crispin replied.
“It’s sad. It must have been a wonder to see at one point.”
“Agreed.”
The two stood in silence, undisturbed as they watched the landscape below. Not another living being could be seen, only the remnants of a time lost and a story they’ll never truly know but could try and imagine.