The journey back to the tower would have been entirely pleasant if not for the morning sun shining directly into Arin's eyes the whole time. After his first night in this world, however, he knew enough to not complain about the daylight.
Both he and the horse had filled their bellies with apples earlier that morning, leaving them no reason for making pitstops along the way. As a result, they were able to return by early afternoon.
Just a day ago, Arin wouldn't have believed how relieved he felt when he saw the tower's ugly rooftiles and crumbling exterior. That wasn't saying much, considering how, just two days ago, he wouldn't have believed he would be here at all.
This time around, Arin's stride was already more confident as he passed under the dilapidated archway and through the front door with the weird fish-creature knocker.
He'd been far too focused on following the then-mouse the first time he'd entered, and far too distracted by the task at hand the last time he'd left. Now, with bright afternoon sunlight streaming in through the doorway, Arin finally took in the foyer.
It wasn't much to look at.
The farthest corners of the hall were still rather dark; all windows having been shuttered. Slits of light squeezed in through gaps in the warped wood, illuminating the dust motes that stirred and swirled in response to him opening the door.
A few wooden benches and cushioned stools sat haphazardly around a large table, and a couple of high-backed armchairs faced a cold, soot-stained hearth. Unlike the simple, roughly-hewn furniture Arin had seen in Lullwater, the woodwork here was sturdy and detailed with intricate carvings along the sides.
And unlike the clean and cared-for furniture in Lullwater, the things here were grimy and dulled by layers of dust.
The walls were bare, devoid of not just the banners and tapestries Arin might have expected to see in a medieval-fantasy tower (because that's what this was supposed to be, wasn't it?), but also even simple paintings or any such decoration. The only color in the room came from a large, crimson rug in the center. At least, Arin guessed it had been crimson at one point. Threadbare and with corners that curled up, any magnificence it'd once had was long gone.
The only personal touch – and an actual sign that people still inhabited the tower – came from the two pairs of gloves lying discarded on one of the benches.
'Damn, they live like this?' Arin sighed.
Flexing his injured shoulder, he made his way to the stairs at the end of the hall.
This time, Arin didn't encounter anyone on his way up, and soon found himself before the large doors on the fifteenth floor. Apple in hand and horse – now snake – wrapped around his ankle, he knocked.
As before, the doors smoothly swung open in response.
'You're late,' the man greeted, tone gentle and words annoying as ever.
'Uh…' Arin didn't respond immediately. He was too busy looking around the spacious room he had just stepped into.
It was… luxurious.
Dark wooden shelves lined the walls, following the room's circular shape. They held a collection of nearly everything Arin had first expected to see in a magic tower; numerous books and scrolls neatly arranged in categories, small chests, glass bottles and stone jars with obscure labels, wooden figurines and metal-wrought instruments with lenses or wheels, and an assortment of other knickknacks. There was even a space dedicated to the display of a few imposing swords of some kind.
Velvet drapes covered the windows, but the room remained brightly-lit thanks to the many ornate lamps hanging from its domed ceiling. They seemed to follow some unknown pattern, dangling from specific stars picked out in the constellations painted up there.
In the middle of the room was a large, wooden desk, its surface polished and gleaming. On it lay a few scattered notes and inkpots, as well as a stone paperweight carved in the shape of the familiar fish-like creature Arin had seen depicted at the entrance. Comfortable chairs were arranged neatly by this desk.
The white-haired man himself was lounging on a long bench covered with plush cushions and bolsters. His languid demeanor, gentle smile, and the book held in his hands were the only things that had remained the same.
As Arin looked around with wide eyes, the man straightened up and placed his book to one side.
'I distinctly remember asking you to return before sunset,' he said in that rich, deep voice of his.
Arin blinked hard a few times before successfully managing to refocus his attention.
'Good thing the sun hasn't set yet,' he responded, walking over to the man with the apple in his outstretched hand. 'Here you go.'
The white-haired man took the apple and, without any pause, placed it on top of the book to his side.
'What happened?' he asked, his pale red irises meeting Arin's gaze.
'The – sorry, give me a minute,' Arin shook his head, then walked over to sit on one of the chairs by the desk. The man followed, elegantly taking a seat across from him.
Arin looked up at him.
'A lot… has happened. But before that, what is going on with this place?'
The man raised his eyebrows slightly. Looking around at his own quarters, he mused, 'I must say I'm amazed its current appearance surprises you more than the one you had first seen.'
'No, that was… I guess I had far too much on my mind to actually say anything yesterday.'
'But now that your mind has thankfully returned to its natural, empty state…?'
'What? Let me speak, please.' Arin sighed. 'I still haven't fully wrapped my mind around the things that have happened since yesterday. I have a lot of questions. Things I don't understand. Things I wish I understood. There's no point in rushing it. It'll probably take a while anyway. Since we're here, why not start with this place?'
The man held up his hands in acquiescence.
'Illusions,' he said simply.
Illusions?
'There's no way…' Arin looked around the room, dumbfounded. The chair he was seated on was sturdy. He leaned forward to knock on the desk before him. Smooth, hard, polished wood. There was even the faint, unique scent of some kind of incense and spice in the air.
All his senses told him that the space he was in was completely different from the one he had seen before. He thought back to the springy, fragrant grass, the cool breeze, the brook gurgling somewhere out of sight…
'There's no way,' he repeated. 'This is real.'
'It is,' the man smiled.
'Then it isn't an illusion.'
'Why not? Reality is whatever you perceive.'
What the hell, man.
Arin slumped against the backrest of his chair. He didn't know why he'd thought he would get any straight answers from this annoying man. He might as well just get on with telling him about Lullwater. That was something he had experienced himself, which should make it easier to comprehend.
Hopefully.
'Let's move on from that.' Locking his gaze with the white-haired man's, Arin began, 'Last night, I witnessed something terrible. There was nothing I could do to help. I didn't even know what could help. I was hoping you would.'
'Here's what happened after we left to get that apple.'