She was born near a lake, as the twilight bore dust upon the land. Her mother, a simple poor girl, had to bear the birth with only her sisters for company. The girl looked normal, with a fair face, and a fussy nature. Her eyes sparkled blue, with a look that pierced into people's hearts, and caught their eye. Unfortunately, that is not always a good thing, as a girl who is different, is often a girl who gets bullied. Combines with her light skin, the days of Klara often spent running, and then eventually, when she could take the pain no more, fighting.
But Klara was not a victim. Her inner fire wouldn't allow it, and neither would her mother. She studied for hours on end, ignoring the parties and fun of others, focusing her talents for the mathematical arts, upon years and years of a community school. Not the most glamorous of educations, but a rather honorable trade nonetheless.
One day, while she was studying the arts, a man made of straw answered the door. His eyes spoke of fire, and his mouth spoke of promises of gold. He told her what she wanted most of all—the stories of where her father had come from. He told her that her blue eyes was the mark of one would was the child of an Elder One, and of her birthright. Her father had been a ruler of the land, and her drive came from him. The father had recently dies, and the man of straw had spent many years looking for an heir. Only one who had the blood of an Elder could rule the throne, and keep it from dying.
She refused him, nicely of course. As Klara later told me, her birthplace New York had trained her for con men, even when they were made of straw. The Man tried to implore her further, claiming that many people would suffer if Klara refused. But Klara was strong, and said no.
The Man simply shrugged, and claimed there were other ways to convince Klara.
As the days wore on, people in Klara's life began to disappear. Some of them were friends who had protected her when she was younger, other were more distant acquaintances. Always, after a disappearance, the Man would appear, knocking on the door three times. Always, she ignored him.
But when her stepsister disappeared, she opened the door. First, it was to attack, and draw blood. But eventually, she agreed to travel to the kingdom of the Elders, in order to save her loved ones.
That would be the last day her friends and family would see her.
In a flash of gold and fire and pain, she was transported from the state of concrete and fumes and hard times, to a kingdom of metal and golden mist, and even more hard times. Crowds of people made of straw, and people with heads made of armor, and emaciated goblins that drank from the dying earth. Deep in her heart, she felt a kinship with them, and she knew she was at someplace that was home.
And then she was brought to the palace. I saw her then, saw her blue eyes widen, and at that point I saw her realize what was in store for her. She was pushed inside the palace, and the large, wide doors of stone was closed. I heard her scream to be released, and felt through the stone her fingers scratching at it, looking desperately for escape.
Just like her father had before.
She spent many months within my walls. I am a vast structure, and I have many rooms to explore. She talked out loud, first cursing herself for her stupidity, then trying to plan an escape, then an attempt to stave off the darkness in her mind. She believed it to be just the dreariness of her current status, but I knew what it was.
The land of the Elders lives off magic. The magic of our rulers' saves it from destitution every time. Klara's father had been trapped in my insides as well, as the magic was poured from his lifeblood. I am an attractor for such things, and my existence is to suck like a mosquito. Once he was inside of me, it was only be a matter of time before death claimed him, and his life was given to the land. That is how it has been, and that is how it would be for Klara.
After a few weeks, she was crumpled on the floor. I had done my duty, and drained her nearly dry. Her eyes, formally blue, were now as pale white as the skin of a dead man, and only the slow beating of her heart showed her life. Soon, I would claim that spark, whether or not I wanted to. I had not been made to let her go, and I did not know how.
I could just barely hear a sound from her lips. It was the name of her stepsister, that she had sacrificed for.
And something in me snapped.
I am old, and was tired of death. I have been forced to see the death of so many kings, so many hopefuls. I could not release her to save her life, but perhaps I could let someone in.
And so I reached out my mind, across space, across time. And something answered back.
It felt older than me, wiser than me beyond years. I had lasted lifetimes. It had lasted universes. And it was blue. From its mouth, it produced 2.
One man was a creature of many lifetimes, clad in a disguise of a black leather jacket, and a human face, called the Doctor. The other was a young girl, a woman with innocent heart, and a brain quicker than she seemed, and hair almost as yellow as the sun, with the name of Rose. They were astounded by me, Rose by its vastness and dazzling color, while the Doctor enjoyed the architecture. Yet I could sense that he knew that this place was not a normal castle.
After some walking, and gawking that I took some pride in, they found Klara, and roused her from her slumber.
Despite this good fortune, I felt a swell of anger. Was this all the creature that I had summoned could bring? Two mortals?
I felt a smugness come from the creature, like it was laughing. And then it disappeared, leaving the Doctor and Rose to shout loudly and give threats of kicking and not refueling, with no avail.
The Doctor, Klara, and Rose walked through my halls. They winded their ways through me, through my kitchens, and my bathrooms, and my bedrooms. They ate the food from my plates, and drunk from the cups that I had to provide, as it was my function. And with every delicious bite, and every thirst-quenching sip, I took a bit of their life energy. It would only be a matter of time before all three died.
Surprisingly, it was Rose who first noticed. It was her quick thinking that noticed that every food item only left her hungrier, that every drink left her thirstier. The Doctor realized that this whole place was an unwinnable puzzle, a trap that kept anyone inside it. I had been designed so that no creature could ever leave.
Oddly, that only seemed to excite the Doctor.
From that moment, the three spent their days figuring out a way to escape me. They only ate and drank the minimum, and did what they could to avoid touching my surface with their skin. The Doctor would often be up for hours, even while they slept, pacing around, looking for a clue. Rose would wake up, offering tidbits of advice, but soon she began to sleep longer and longer. Her human form was weak, and I could feel her energy slipping away. The Doctor would often touch her forehead, and he would offer words of encouragement. Occasionally, he would look up at my ceiling, as if looking at God. Or was he looking at me?
Klara would sometimes offer apologies. She worked as feverishly as the others, often battling the sickness that was slowly setting into her bones. She was a fighter, as much a warrior as her father. I hope was beginning to tear at my heart, and with it, a creeping dread. The clock was ticking for the trio, and I did not want them to fail.
On the seventh day, the trio were resting in one of the rooms. The Doctor was staring up at the ceiling still, his eyes glaring at it. His hands rubbed my stone, and he placed his ears to the ornate designs on the wall, as if listening to the heartbeat.
And then he spoke to me, or rather to my walls. He told me that he knew that I was watching. That he could feel me through the walls. That he wanted me to let us go. And that he knew that I was draining the girl, and that he would end me if I refused to stop. He did not know that I was as much a prisoner as Klara was.
It was Rose who found the answer to how to escape. She pointed out that I was a straw, sucking out the life force from the three. And so, she reasoned, could they not draw it back?
So, with all three drained of strength, they linked hands. Klara focused her mind, and gathered the little mental strength that I had not taken. Words from the Doctor calmed her.
Klara then made the step. Her mind formed a strong thread, and snaked through the magical lines connecting both of us, and met my contagiousness.
For what must have felt like a millennium for her, her psyche faced the vast brilliance of my own. Her physical body screamed, and Rose nearly broke the connection right then and there. However, eventually, Klara's mind adjusted, and she conversed with me. I did my best to apologize for my unwilling treatment of her, and she forgave me. Then, I told her that as long as she stayed here, I would drain her. It was what I was built for.
Then she focused the string of her mental strength, and wrapped it around me. And then she drew that strength within herself, and then pulled.
The forces keeping my form together shifted. I felt myself moving, mutating, and ripping. Stone became ash, the fire went to ice. I was not dying mentally, but physically, my form was being undone.
I did my best to shield them, but my three occupants felt my anguish, Klara most of all. For that young woman, it was like waves after waves of force, slamming into her. As a daughter of an Elder, she had the mettle of a survivor, but even the assistance of the Doctor's silver wand did not stop the pain.
Suddenly, it was done. A doorway was made, by the force of Klara's will, to the outside. And the three stepped through.
The Man found them. He was not happy to see that Klara escaped. However, by nighttime's end, he had been defeated by the Doctor, and Klara was safe again.
Now, Klara has returned to the world of concrete and metal. It is a world with much less magic than mine, but it is her home. She has assured the people of my world that one day, she shall return to reclaim her birthright, but for now she is too young, too inexperienced. This world will have to tend to itself for now.
And, after all was done, the creature of many universes returned. It took back its assistants, and I felt it leave this plane of existence.
As I sensed it leave, I sent out a message of gratitude.
Before it slid out of reality, and into another one, I felt a warmth from it. It was a message that felt like a warm breeze, soothing my stone walls, and reforming me into another form, one that was less parasitic, and one that might now be the new, proper throne for a new, proper queen, when she deigned to come back.
The creature told me I should not judge myself, for I had been fantastic.