Deep within the woods, overlooking the town lays a grand palace. It's crystal walls glisten in the heat of the summer and reflect the cold of the winter. Navy spires kiss the sky, whilst a crystalline lake surrounds it. From the town, its turrets can be seen piercing the royal blue above.
But, age has taken its toll on the grand palace. It now lies in disrepair, the crystal walls cracked and grey, navy spires faded and crumbling, crystalline lake brown and contaminated with weeds. The sky is no longer kissed and the town, just like the grand palace, fades away from memory.
Down the empty, forgotten hallway, a shadow peacefully haunts the palace. It wanders it mindlessly, hearing the unheard laughter, seeing the unseen smiles. It meanders into a lost ballroom. Figures dance across the hall gaily. Music echoes off the glistening is pomp and splendour all around, joy and peace.
There is love.
A portrait adorns the back of the hall. Chipped and weathered, the rotting picture briefly reveals a snow-haired prince and his raven-haired princess. Crimson eyes bore into the blaze of the youthful princess. Softened at the smile of the handsome prince.
There is life.
Then it is gone. Closing with a snap. The dancers disappear and joy disintegrates in front of the crimson eyes. They have seen so much, yet they still laugh, burning with the blaze that was once alive, but is not dead. The soul still roams the dying palace. It will die with the palace, yet it will live on, eyes burning with the fire of love and dancing with the spark of life.
For there is no such thing as death. Only life beyond the grave.