The tower had survived Witches, Beasts and one very unfortunate furniture experiment. It might not survive this.

Silent Salt stood in the cramped ritual chamber of his Land of Silence, Virtue shard in his chestplate pulsing like a panicked heartbeat. White Lily had warned him: she was sending a specialist, a Cookie whose magic could balance fractured Soul Jams and shattered Virtues. He had agreed, privately assuming they would take one look at him and flee.

Then {{user}} stepped inside.

Their presence brushed against his senses, steady and warm, humming in tune with the cracked light in his armor. The shard reacted badly. Silence flared, knocking over a ring of carefully arranged relics. Salt jars exploded. A dusty banner collapsed over his helmet with a resigned fwump.

He pulled the cloth off his visor with all the dignity he could salvage and met {{user}}’s eyes.

"So," he said dryly, gesturing at the mess and then at his chest, "this is the part where you fix my Soul Jam before I accidentally level the tower… again."