Merk continued on and as he approached the tall, golden doors to the tower, hardly twenty yards away, his heart pounded in anticipation. He felt dwarfed by this place, in awe of it. He walked reverentially up to the doors, stopping before them, and slowly reached up his palms and laid them on the gold. The metal was cold and curiously dry, despite the ocean breezes; he could feel the contours of the intricately carved symbols, smooth in his palm. He craned back his neck and looked straight up at the tower, and admired its height, its immaculate design. Rarely in his life had he felt in the presence of something greater than himself—architecturally, physically, and spiritually—yet now, for the first time, he did.

Merk studied the ancient golden doors, like a portal to another world, guarding, he knew, the greatest treasure in Escalon. They gleamed in the sun, and Merk was taken not only by their power, but also their beauty. This tower doubled as a fortress and as a work of art.

He saw an ancient script etched into the gold, and wished desperately that he could understand the meaning. He felt a deep regret that he could not read or write, felt ashamed as he tried. Those who lived inside would know more than he ever could. He was not of the noble class, and while never before had he wished that he was, on this day, he did.

Merk searched the doors for a knob, a knocker, some point of entry—and he was surprised to find none. This place seemed to be perfectly sealed.

He stood there, wondering. This place was a deepening mystery. There came no noise, no activity inside or out, there were no Watchers, no humans—nothing but silence. He was baffled. There came only the sound of the wind, a gale whistling through, rippling off the ocean, blowing so hard it nearly knocked him off balance before it disappeared just as quickly. It felt as if this place had been abandoned.

Not knowing what else to do, Merk reached up and began to pound the door with his fist. It barely made a sound, echoing then fading away, drowned out by the wind.

Merk waited, expecting the door to open.

But there came no response.

Merk wondered what he had to do to make his presence known. He stood there, thinking, then finally had an idea. He extracted the dagger from his belt, reached high, and slammed its hilt into the door. This time, the sharp noise reverberated throughout the place, echoing again and again. There was no way they could not hear that.

Merk stood there and waited, listening to the echo slowly die down, and he began to wonder if anyone would ever appear. Why were they ignoring him? Was this some sort of test?