The Toppling Tower of Heverran, a vast fanglike structure of brown weatherstreaked granite, loomed at an impossible angle over the countryside of the Forsylvae. It was the center of many disquieting legends and the tomb of many daring but reckless explorers. It certainly was not the right place to hear raucous laughter. We were here for a grim but hopeful purpose. A week ago, we’d explored the ancient ruin of Lafelow’s Gangrenous Gardens, and there we found a cache of artifacts cast in precious metals. Research implied they were the legendary keys to Heverran’s Tomb, a solid vault at the tower’s top, wherein the ancient mage had been forcibly and unjustly imprisoned. Now, standing before his tomb, we worked to resolve one of the great tragedies of ancient times, and succor and release the imprisoned spirit of Heverran himself. I found myself pondering the suffering of the old mage, and the fleeting nature of all mortal life, when Favari’s laughter rang out and jarred me from my thoughts. “Would you keep it down, Favari?” I said. My half-sister, expert archaeologist and unraveler of ancient traps and riddles, had been in high spirits for weeks now, but her mood was inappropriate for this solemn occasion. “Hey Minselon, lighten it up a bit,” she said. “We’ve come to do a good deed, after all.” Ariteva, the priestess we’d hired to perform the rites, cleared her throat. “Much as I appreciate keeping a cheerful spirit in dark times, I ask you for restraint so I may concentrate.” Ariteva moved to the great dark doors, before which was a shelf of stone covered with inlaid script, with an oval depression in the center. She chanted softly as she raised the most keylike of the artifacts we’d found. “Do you think the tower might actually collapse, once we release his spirit?” I asked. “Like the legendary ancient clichés?” Ariteva snorted. “As if Heverran’s weary old shade provides enough magic to support this huge tower? The ancient architects wrought better than that. Despite its name, the tower has stood for a thousand years. We should all be safe.” Ariteva laid the artifact into the spoon-shaped depression, and stepped back. We awaited the unlocking of those terrible doors and the emergence of Heverran’s tortured soul. And waited. “Shouldn’t it have done something by now?” asked Favari. Ariteva sighed. “It should.” She withdrew the object and repeated the rite using the other artifacts we’d discovered. None of them worked. “Well, this is indeed a mystery,” said Ariteva. “Are you sure that this is all of the artifacts? That [i]none [/i]were left behind?” “Favari and I are quite thorough,” I replied, dreading the thought of returning to the dismal Gardens. “We took all.” Ariteva looked each of us in the eyes. “The artifacts should all be linked,” she said. “Perhaps I can use that to our advantage…?” She pronounced another chant. Suddenly, Favari yelped and jumped in the air, clutching her posterior! As I stood in shock, Ariteva ran to Favari and yanked down her pants! “AH-HAH!” She steeled herself, reached forward and tugged, and drew from Favari’s exposed nether regions a gleaming golden thing like an egg, but with a flared base on it. Favari winced and gave a disappointed moan. “Behold the [i]True[/i] Key of Heverran,” she said, “By the grace of the gods, and the baser appetites of humanity, preserved until the hour of need.” Favari stared at the floor. “I palmed it when we discovered the cache,” she said.”It just… looked so [i]smooth.[/i] And I started playing with it, and one thing led to another…” “And you used a priceless artifact as a sex toy, for all this time,” I sighed. “Can we talk about this later?” groaned Favari. Ariteva strode to the door, carefully wiping her hands and the Key on a clean cloth, then laid the Key in the hollow. It flashed with golden radiance, and the great doors parted. The great stones thrummed, and something passed us, a sense of doom and sorrow that seized and wrung our hearts and slowly faded, leaving us staring at each other in wonder and relief. Already the stones of the tower seemed to rest easier upon each other. Ariteva smiled. “Heverran has finally gone to rest. I thank you, Minselon, and also you, Favari, whose fascinating urges lent a new dimension to the most tired of all the ancient clichés.” I saw it too. “You mean…” “Yes. The real treasure was inside her all along.”