IC Date: 07/30/2025
The door to the Primordial Tower glowed brighter than it had during Tempesti’s previous visit, pushing back the shadows that haunted its surroundings as the stylized wave by the harpy’s left wing shifted and shimmered in place as though driven by some unseen tide. Meeting the harpy’s impassive gaze, she smiled, allowing herself a few seconds to admire her handiwork before returning to the task at hand.

“Harrowing Storm!”

The crystal above the winged woman’s head flared white as her magic struck the door. Mechanisms hidden within the ancient bronze were far less noisy than they had been the first couple of times and Tempesti found herself speculating on whether they were improving after their first uses in centuries while she waited for them to grant her entry. Countless tiny lights filled the senshi’s vision as the door swung open, piercing and illuminating the soft fog that rose from the water surrounding the Primordial Tower. Sunset oranges and purples flitted past with the soft hum of the firefly-like insects who bore the colorful lights along with them.

The low-hanging mist was a new addition to the vista and Tempesti wondered if it was a permanent feature, a side effect of reviving the Shrine of Primordial Water, or if it was typical for the seemingly contained climate surrounding the Primordial Tower. With a cautious confidence she strode across the white stone bridge, eyeing the blue pulses betraying the locations of the lake’s various leech residents. Without the blood of other animals to sustain them she couldn’t help but wonder if they turned to cannibalism. Dietary habits and possible dietary habits of unpleasant local fauna aside, she found herself breathless in the beauty of the scene. A pride in her efforts wheedled its way to the surface only to be doused with the cold reminder that she had far too much to do to spend idle moments in self-praise.

From what she was able to calculate from her footage, the Shrine of Primordial Earth had been a quarter of the way up, give or take a few feet. The Shrine of Primordial Water was about halfway up, so it stood to reason that whichever shrine came next it would be about three-quarters up the tower. Assuming she was able to attend to that one without too much difficulty from the constructs and traps she knew waited for her up there, by the end of the day there would only be one dormant shrine left in the tower proper. Ancient memories dredged from the mind of a half-mad senshi told her that the real power rested atop the tower and regulated the others. At least that’s what Tempesti (living Tempesti) had been able to gather from the shrieks of that fractured psyche during the strange visions that so often accompanied her sojourns on this homeworld. The Shrine of Primordial Aether waited above. At least, she hoped it did. That it wasn’t just Elysia’s ramblings drawn from whatever propaganda she’d eagerly devoured in her impotent desire to be one of the “good” senshi. One worthy of serving her planet. Her reincarnation sighed at the thought, torn once more between frustration and pity for this long dead version of herself before reminding herself that she would not cower away from her own strength, or bind herself to the will of another. This world would live again.