The Mage Tower loomed before them, a marvel of arcane grandeur that pierced the heavens. Its structure seemed both ancient and timeless, hewn from obsidian stone that shimmered faintly with embedded runes. Surrounding it, a tranquil garden of crystalline flora swayed in a wind that only magic could summon, while orbs of soft, otherworldly light hovered, casting a serene glow.
Oliver stood at its threshold, breath caught in his chest. This was no ordinary building but the seat of the most powerful organization in the kingdom—an entity so influential that even kings hesitated to oppose it. Even so, this was only a lesser Mage Tower, serving as a regional outpost in Glensorne.