Prolouge
A dark tower rose over the horizon, overshadowing miles of land beneath. It's sheer size, enormous beyond understanding, was breathtaking in its own right. The sides of the structure seemed to be dotted with windows, and staircases spiraled around the outside perilously. The top was covered by the clouds of the sky, not visible to anyone who happened to stand before it.
There was a feeling around this, a feeling of life, and a crawling feeling of corruption. It was this feeling even more than the sight of the Tower that conveyed that it was more than any structure. This was the Dark Tower.
It stood amongst the orange-purple sky, becoming a shadow. This was life, this was the point of every universe. Yet, at the same time, it was also the death of every universe. Something was wrong, very wrong.
There were no physical signs. It was instead in the feeling of the Tower. Everywhere around the Tower a sensation of despair and imminent doom lay like fog.
Along with that feeling, that sense of despair, there were roses. A field of roses stretched for miles beyond the Tower, surrounding it in a carpet of crimson red that almost looked like blood. They swayed slightly in the silent wind, always bending toward the Tower, their fragile petals swinging in the direction of it.
These roses were more than they seemed. Like the Tower, there was more to them than anyone had ever guessed. They represented world upon world, person upon person
The roses were the representations of worlds of lives.