Afraid to open his eyes, Obrett remained seated. It was only a hand upon his shoulder that reminded him that he was only focussing on a stone, and not made of one.
“Open your eyes and look, my friend,” came the voice of Brendan, but it was a voice that sounded much richer, so very much more vibrant. He opened his eyes, and found himself staring down at the stone in his hand, and beyond that, grass.
“What the?” Obrett looked around, and found that he was sitting on a lawn; the grass trimmed neatly short, several different wildflowers growing through in various patches. The dark tower now rose above them in its midnight splendour, but the circular wall had disappeared entirely, as had all of the desert, sand and all of the rocks except the ones they had held on to. “Are we in the same plac
