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.
"Go then," Roland whispered, though whether he spoke to Jake, the Tower, or himself, he did not know. "There are other worlds than these." The Dark Tower
Roland pulled the horn from his belt. It was cold, smelling of ancient battles and lost honor. He didn't wait for the second toll. He put the horn to his lips and blew a note that defied the fading light. It was a brassy, defiant roar that tasted of gunpowder and home. The teeth in the ground shattered. The white sky cracked. As he reached the foot of the Tower,
"If the bell rings three times, the doors stay shut forever," Jake whispered. "The cycle doesn't reset. We just... stay in the dark." "There are other worlds than these
"Worse," Jake said. "The Tower is shivering. It’s not just the beams anymore. Someone is ringing the bell at the top."
He stepped inside, and for the first time in a thousand years, the gunslinger felt the wind change direction.
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