The Lazy Chronicles: Apartment of the Apocalypse-Chapter 111 - 112 – The Silent Tower

The Silent Tower loomed over the wasteland, its surface smooth and black as if carved from obsidian. It had no windows, no banners, and no signs of life.

It simply stood.

Watching.

Waiting.

The group stood at the base of the tower, staring up at the massive double doors made of the same dark stone.

Greg crossed his arms. "You know what? I vote we don’t go in."

Elara smirked. "Greg, when has that ever worked?"

Greg threw up his hands. "IT COULD WORK ONE DAY."

Mallory ignored him, stepping closer. The air around the tower was heavy, almost humming with unseen energy. She placed a hand on the cold surface of the doors.

The moment her fingers touched the stone—

A voice whispered in her mind.

"Why have you come?"

Mallory’s breath hitched.

The others tensed.

Alex stepped forward. "Mallory?"

She turned, eyes wide. "Did you hear that?"

Quinn and Elara shook their heads. Greg, however, was already backing up. "Nope. No voices. And if you’re hearing them, I’m taking that as a very, very bad sign."

Mallory looked back at the doors. "I think it’s asking why we’re here."

Alex nodded. "Then answer it."

Mallory hesitated, then took a breath.

"We’re here to stop the prisons from breaking."

Silence.

Then—

The doors creaked open.

A rush of cold air poured out, carrying the scent of dust and something ancient.

Greg groaned. "Great. We just asked the horror tower to let us in."

Mallory turned to the others. "We go together. Stay close."

With that, she stepped inside.

The First Floor – Echoes of the Past

The interior of the tower was massive, a spiraling hall of smooth black stone. The walls were lined with faintly glowing runes, pulsing like a heartbeat.

There were no torches. No lanterns.

Yet the space was not dark.

It was filled with shadows that moved.

Not flickering—moving.

Greg took one look at them and immediately grabbed Alex’s arm. "Oh, hell no."

Alex sighed. "Greg—"

"Nope. Nope. I see them. They see me. We’re not doing this."

Before anyone could respond, the whispers returned.

"Walk forward. Witness."

The shadows rippled.

Then—

They took shape.

Figures formed from the darkness, solidifying into memories of the past.

They weren’t ghosts.

They were echoes.

One of the figures—a woman clad in a high-collared cloak—turned toward them. Her face was blurred, as if time had eroded the memory.

She spoke.

"The Prison was not built to last. We made a mistake."

Mallory’s breath caught. "Who are you?"

The woman did not answer.

Another figure—a man in battered armor—raised a spectral sword.

"We held it for as long as we could. But the Tower is failing. The Guardian is gone."

Greg paled. "Excuse me—what Guardian?"

The whispers surged. The shadows flickered.

The woman’s head tilted toward Mallory.

"If you stand before this Tower... then it is already too late."

The echoes vanished.

The room went silent.

Elara exhaled. "That was... disturbing."

Quinn rubbed the back of his neck. "So, just to recap—this place was a prison, it’s failing, and the thing that was supposed to keep it shut is missing?"

Mallory nodded. "That’s what it sounds like."

Greg groaned. "You know what? That’s it. We should leave. Just walk away. Let someone else deal with this."

Alex gave him a look. "Who?"

Greg scowled. "I don’t know. A wizard? A different chosen one? Literally anyone else?"

Mallory ignored him, looking at the stairs that spiraled upward.

There was only one way to find out the truth.

"We keep going."

The Second Floor – The Guardian’s Chains

As they climbed the spiral staircase, the air grew thicker, pressing down on them like a weight. The whispers were gone now, replaced by a low thrumming sound that vibrated through the walls.

Then—

They reached a massive chamber.

Chains.

The room was full of them, stretching from the ceiling to the floor, wrapped around a dark, shifting mass at the center.

It wasn’t a person.

It wasn’t a creature.

It was a living shadow.

Trapped.

Barely contained.

The thrumming noise grew louder.

Greg stepped back. "I hate this. I hate this."

Mallory moved closer, staring at the shifting figure. "Is this... the Guardian?"

The moment she spoke—

The shadow lunged.

The chains held, but the entire tower shook from the force of it.

A voice—deep, ancient, and furious—ripped through the air.

"YOU ARE NOT WELCOME."

The sheer pressure of it sent them all staggering back.

Alex gritted his teeth. "It’s still here. But it’s—"

"Bound." Elara’s eyes narrowed. "Something is trapping it."

Mallory’s heart pounded. If this was the Guardian—who had chained it?

And more importantly—why?

The voice growled, more controlled this time.

"You should not have come."

Mallory took a breath, stepping forward again. "Are you the Guardian?"

Silence.

Then—

"I was."

The chains rattled.

"Now... I am the Prisoner."

Mallory clenched her fists. "Who did this to you?"

The Guardian did not answer.

Greg rubbed his temples. "You know, we don’t have to unchain the angry shadow monster. We could just walk away."

Elara studied the chains. "They’re old. But powerful."

Quinn knelt, touching the floor. "These symbols... they’re different from the ones downstairs."

Mallory looked closer. He was right.

The runes here weren’t warnings.

They were seals.

Whoever had locked the Guardian here—they had meant for it to never escape.

The Guardian’s voice rumbled.

"The Tower is breaking. The Prison will fail. When it does... what lies beneath will awaken."

Mallory felt a chill run down her spine. "What lies beneath?"

The chains tightened, pulling the Guardian back.

It spoke one last time—its voice low, but certain.

"The true Horror."

And then—

The chamber began to collapse.

Escape

The walls shook violently, dust and debris raining down as the Guardian roared.

Mallory turned. "GO! NOW!"

The group bolted back toward the stairs as the ceiling cracked, massive chunks of stone falling all around them.

Greg screamed. "THIS IS WHY WE DON’T TALK TO SHADOW MONSTERS!"

Elara pulled him forward. "Shut up and run!"

They raced down the stairs, Mallory in the lead, the entire Tower crumbling around them.

By the time they burst through the front doors, the structure was already collapsing in on itself.

They barely made it out.

The Silent Tower—once an unshakable prison—

Was gone.

The Road Ahead

The group stared at the smoking ruins.

Greg, panting, turned to Mallory. "So. Just checking. That’s bad, right?"

Mallory swallowed hard.

The Guardian was right.

The Tower was failing.

And something far worse was coming.

She turned to the horizon—where distant storm clouds began to gather.

They weren’t done yet.

Not even close.

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