The memory of his dream came back to him. He decided it was probably a dream-twisted vision of his life in the inn. The surroundings hadn’t been quite the same, but the feelings of longing to run away most certainly were. In any case, it didn’t matter. Now he would never have to go back to the inn—especially after saving his father and proving once and for all that the life of an adventurer was his true destiny.

Curston had long ago been a huge, sprawling mess of buildings separated by wide cobblestone streets and surrounded by towering walls. Evin and Jorick entered the city from the south, which had once been Curston’s most expensive—and most elaborate—district. But now the walls and buildings had crumbled into jagged boulders, and wild grass and spindly trees burst up from beneath the cracked cobblestone.

It was quiet in the ruins as Evin and Jorick crept past a fallen stone dome and broken arches. A soft breeze brushed past them, rustling flowers and grass in a gentle, soothing manner. Above, the serious storm clouds of the night before had departed, leaving behind friendly puffs that swam in the blue expanse of spring sky.

Jorick kicked at the trunk of a willow tree whose long branches swayed in the breeze like a maiden’s hair. His sword was drawn, and a scowl creased his face.

“It’s quiet here,” Jorick grumbled. “And pretty.”

Evin went up to his friend’s side and set down their sack of food. “I know. Isn’t it nice? I can’t believe I ever used to be afraid to come up here, all those old stories of this being the ‘Cursed Town’ and all.”

Jorick looked up at Evin and shook his head. “No, I mean it,” he said. “It’s too quiet. And too pretty. I don’t trust this place.”

Evin laughed. “What could possibly be bad about—” To the northeast, something cracked, a sound loud like thunder.

“—this place,” Evin finished.

Jorick pushed aside the boughs of the willow tree. “What was that? The dog-men?”

“I don’t think so.” Shading his eyes from the midday sun, Evin looked toward the origin of the sound. He scanned the ground, following the remnants of old roads and ruined buildings. Everything looked mostly the same—until he saw the tower.

How had he not noticed the tower until now? There it was, plain and clear: a round column rising the height of ten men into the sky, with a pointed, shingled roof. Despite being surrounded by a destroyed ancient city, the tower seemed almost new.

“Look!” Evin said, grabbing Jorick’s tensed arm in excitement. “That’s it. It has to be Zendric’s tower. We’re almost there!”

“What about the noise?” Jorick asked. “Maybe the dog-men got here first.”