The Dark Tower Site

Around its base, the field of Can'-Ka No Rey was no longer filled with red roses. They had turned white, then translucent, then disappeared entirely. In their place grew teeth. Thousands of them, pushing up through the soil like jagged grave markers.

He stepped inside, and for the first time in a thousand years, the gunslinger felt the wind change direction. The Dark Tower

"Go then," Roland whispered, though whether he spoke to Jake, the Tower, or himself, he did not know. "There are other worlds than these." Around its base, the field of Can'-Ka No

In the high, thin air of the Borderlands, the sky had turned the color of a bruised plum. The sun was a pale, flickering candle, guttering in a draft that blew from the gaps between universes. Roland knelt by a stream that ran with silver liquid—not water, but the liquefied memories of a city that had never existed. He didn't drink. He knew the price of drinking "Used Time." "He’s coming, Roland," a voice rasped. Thousands of them, pushing up through the soil

As he reached the foot of the Tower, the first toll of the bell shook the ground. The sound wasn't metal on metal; it was the sound of a billion voices screaming "Goodbye" at once.

Roland didn't turn. He knew the voice of the boy, Jake, though the boy had been dead and reborn more times than Roland had fingers. Jake sat on a stump of petrified wood, tossing a gold coin that vanished every time it hit his palm.