The Tower Amid Nothing

Ice and snow crunched underfoot as the hounds charged forward. She hated pushing them so hard, but she had never been this late before. Time was not on her side. The sun was setting. The wind whipped relentlessly, and the falling snow felt like blades against her slightly exposed face. Her sled dogs made a mad dash up the final hill before it came into view. The giant glass tower reached terrifyingly into the sky.

Adeline annually returned to the tower. By happenstance, she came upon it during a research expedition some years ago. One day during a survey of the icy wasteland, it just appeared. It was a simple structure but menacing. It loomed over its surroundings with a malicious gaze. The tower was composed only of black glass, but its blackness almost seemed to steal the light around it. Looking at it was like staring into a black hole. Its base was not visible, trapped beneath an impenetrable layer of ice amid a frozen lake. Adeline and her companions were perplexed. How could they have missed something like this?

The tower was hotly debated. Some argued that it should explored at once, while others felt uneasy about its sudden appearance and thought it best left alone. To those willing to explore, it was known as the Monolith. But to the others, it was called the Obelisk. Research proposals quickly became confusing with multiple monikers being thrown around with no real care. The two schools of thought were always vying for either more or less resources dedicated to the study of the structure. During a particularly impassioned expedition, the sounds of argument quickly gave way to stunned silence as they crested the hill overlooking the tower’s frozen prison. It had simply vanished, as if it were never there at all.

At that point, the university very nearly diverted all its resources to relocating the thing. But nothing ever proved fruitful. Seismic tests produced no results. Aerial surveys yielded naught. Adeline’s band of researchers pursued it recklessly, but to no avail. One night, they set up camp on the hill overlooking the lake. They let time get away from them and knew there was no way to make it back to the university before bitter night fell. The next morning, Adeline was the first awake. As she excited her quarters, she could not help but exclaim, “The Monolith is back!” Over and over, she shouted, all the while dashing in and out of tents to stir her peers. They were stunned. They checked all their charts. Nothing made sense. Why did it suddenly return? For that, there was no answer. The only thing they knew was that it was the one-year anniversary of seeing the tower for the first time.

Years of this song and dance passed. They discovered that the tower only lingered for about a week at a time. Sometimes more, sometimes less. It was maddening. A particularly frustrated member of the research team once attempted to penetrate the tower with explosives (against the caution of his peers). When the smoke cleared, not even a scratch could be seen. At least, not on the tower itself. The ice around the structure took the brunt of the blast. Everyone decided that compromising the ice’s integrity was too a great risk. The tower only ever appeared in this exact spot. If the condition of the area was compromised even slightly, they could lose it forever. Drilling into the ice was not an option.

These days, Adeline was the only one making the expedition to the tower. All the other researchers moved off-world in pursuit of more feasible achievements. Many of them tried to talk her into leaving as well. The planet was desolate. There were maybe 1,000 total inhabitants, and they were the only human ones. Everything else was some kind of strange creature or uncaring bacteria. But she simply refused to leave. She made it her life’s mission to uncover the secrets of the Monolith.

She was actually able to pinpoint the exact moment in time the tower was to reappear. The real problem was that she could never predict when it would vanish again. Without fail, though, she would arrive, and it would be there waiting for her. She had to make the trip during the day, as the elements made it too dangerous to venture out at night. All those years ago when she and her group had camped out, they had an advanced life-support system for them to survive. They also had each other. Now, she was utterly alone, save for her loyal band of sled dogs.

The sun was on the horizon as she arrived at the tower. Her dogs begged for oxygen, their lungs surely frozen from the sprint. She halted them and stared hatefully at the sun. Her tardiness was her fault, but she could not help but to redirect her frustration. Her gaze then shifted to the Monolith. She wanted nothing more than to discover all its secrets. Now, she had lost a day. If it the thing was not there when she arrived the next day, she would have wasted a year’s worth of prep. The thought made her ill. Against her better judgement, she directed the dogs to the tower. At the very least, she wanted to feel it before she departed.

When she came to the base of the tower, the sun had disappeared behind it. She had little time. Tears began to roll down her cheek as she reached out to the cold glass, pitifully sobbing all the while. At this point, all she could do was hope that the tower would be there when she returned in the morning. She turned around defeatedly. Even in her failure, she could appreciate her surroundings. The tower was eclipsed by a mountain that dominated the skyline. She always thought it was beautiful. Sometimes, she even felt as if that mountain made empty trips worth it.

As she started walking back to her loyal hound troops, the ground crackled suddenly. The ice shifted. Not enough to be a problem, but enough to heard. The sound was like an explosion, and it echoed in every direction. Adeline’s normally composed companions fled back towards home. She screamed after them, but they just kept running. She did not even bother to chase them back up the hill. She was stunned. Her tardiness to the Monolith was now more than a frustration. It was her doom.

She fell to her knees as dread overtook her. She would survive for a few hours at most. That was if she could find shelter. She stood and began beating the Monolith with her fists, begging for entry. But the structure stoically stood as it always had. Adeline covered her eyes and wept as the sun sank deeper and deeper. When she opened them again, however, she was shocked to see a faint purple glow at the base of the nearby mountain. She quickly gathered herself and ran for the mountain.

When she reached its base, she discovered that the glow was a patch of snow. Immediately, she began clawing at it. It had concealed a cave, the true origin of the glow. The entirety of the cave’s interior was covered in glowing purple gemstones that she had never encountered before. They lined the floor and the walls and the ceiling. It looked as if they were guiding her somewhere. At this point, the weather outside the cave would kill her if she faced it. Left with no other option, she pushed into the cave.

She walked for what felt like miles. The journey was a constant descent into the bowels of the planet. The rocks surrounding her became darker and darker. She followed the iridescent purple glow of the gemstones to a dense wooden door. It was of a high quality and intricately carved and speckled with ornate jewels. For some reason, she felt compelled to knock. No answer. She knocked again and was met with silence. “Third time’s the charm,” she thought to herself. Still nothing. Finally, she grabbed the door and slowly pushed it open as its creaky hinges strained.

She was met with the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. Inside the door was a massive, colorful library. It shined like perpetual daylight. It had a carpet that felt like clouds under her weight. The shelves were stacked dozens of feet into the air. She wondrously eyed the volumes all the way to their apex before the ceiling finally got her attention. It was gray glass. She stepped into the library further and turned around, spying a mountain on the exterior of the glass. It dawned on her that she was inside the Monolith.

She let out a squeal of joy as she sprinted over to the nearest bookshelf. It spoke of strange sciences that she did not understand, but she did not care. This was the breakthrough she had been waiting for. She explored more of the area and realized that it was more than a library. It had labs and art chambers and living quarters. This was a place that once housed great thinkers. She could not help but wonder where they had gone. She continued her exploration and saw many wonders, most of which she did not fully understand. Eventually, she left the jovial space and was staring down an obscenely long hallway at a door as black as the Monolith’s exterior.

Something about it made her feel uneasy. If the rest of the space contained within the tower represented triumph of some kind, this door was its antithesis. She felt compelled to get closer, and so she began to walk down the hall.

Every step became heavier. She soon lost focus on everything save for the door. A feeling of dismay welled up within her. As she grew closer, it turned into dread. Soon she became dizzy and started hearing whispers, though she could not make out what they were saying. The whispers did not grow louder, but the voices became more numerous. Her dizziness became darkness as consciousness faded. The whispers were becoming unbearable. She tried to scream but no sound emerged. Panic started to overtake her. She was forced to crawl toward the door, occasionally smashing her forehead into the ground in an attempt to make the whispers stop. It was to no avail.

The ground went from soft carpet to some kind of hard transparent substance. When she could manage to open her eyes at all, she could see robed figures frozen beneath the floor, sitting cross-legged in a circle. Perhaps they were an illusion. She was unable to focus, the whispers now feeling like mind daggers. Suddenly, she bumped her head into something. It was the door. Everything grew silent.

She rolled onto her side and vomited. She looked at the floor once again and saw nothing but carpet. When she mustered the strength to stand, it was on unsure legs. She turned to look back down the hallway, whose length was considerably shortened. Her mind was still hazy, but she could have sworn that it was shorter. Then her focus came back to the door.

She touched it and felt its icy sting. Something within her cried out. “Don’t,” it said with faint sternness. For a long time, she stood paralyzed, touching the door. Finally, she pushed it open. It was then that she knew. The Obelisk was not a place of learning for some enlightened ancient wise-race.

It was a prison for an unspeakable horror.