As Ishit descended the worn-out damp stairs he frowned, snuffing in the air. Was his mind tricking him?
The air, which was stuffy and stale a few moments ago, was now pregnant with the smell of salt.
His frown deepened as he walked on. His ears perked up to the faint sound. It could be nothing but the song of crashing-weaves. His feet hastened up, and he soon found himself facing the vast black stretch with rippling waves. A slice of the moon was hanging amidst the dotted stars. Was it all an illusion? He wondered as he glanced around, inhaling the sea breeze, and feeling damp air on his skin.
The stairs, which had brought him here, had disappeared leaving nothing but a long stretch of sand behind him and palm trees in the distance sighing in the night breeze.
It was as if he had materialized out of thin air. Where was the tower? He activated his spirit eyes, but the surroundings around him were as real as he was.
