I was home. An overwhelming feeling of joy overtook me and I began to cry as I ran through the corridors of my castle. I took in all the familiar sights of home—the grand staircase, the study, the receiving parlor—I wanted to find my family, to tell them of the horrifying dream I had involving the broken-down castle with the black dragon. I wanted to embrace my brothers and tell them I loved them no matter how bothersome they were.
My castle was empty though. No servants, no advisors, no courtiers, and no family. I was alone. I reached the throne room and there lay the creature that I had dreamed about when I was a child. I realized then, it was not real but yet another dream.
"Why?" I asked quietly, finally addressing him who never spoke to me. Why was he keeping me? Why was I dreaming of him again? Why was I alone to face him?
The silver eyes narrowed and his head tilted, then I heard the answer of his voice in my head, a voice I had never heard before, "I need you."
My eyes popped open, apparently my body was done with sleeping. For a moment my mind was jumbled, trying to discern where I truly was. Staring at a room that was not mine brought heaviness to my heart—I was still there. The bed had proved its worth as my entire body felt light and rested from the trials of the day before. Daylight poured in from the window, and it was high—nearly past noon. I rubbed my eye, and threw back the covers.
What was I to do? My dress was ruined—muddy, torn, dusty—and I did not want to wear it again. It was chilly in the room as it was mid October in the north, in Dregat. Pulling a thick blanket off the bed, I wrapped it around my body and over my shoulders to cover my undergarments and rid me of my shivering.
As soon as I stepped into the hallway, more shivers ran up my spine—but not from the cold. The hallway was like the rest of the castle, decayed and abandoned. Dirt and dust licked at my toes while pieces of unidentifiable debris littered the floor. I wondered further about what Dylin had said about the bedroom being a permanent memory. Were there any other places in this castle that held that magic?
"Hello?" I called, to see if any of the ghosts were near.
"Miss Elle!" I heard a squeal from nothing but the air and Dylin apparated, running down the corridor towards me bringing along with him the transformation of the corridor to what it once was. It was quite a sight to experience and made my hair stand on edge.
"I was wondering if there were any extra ladies' garments I could wear?"
"I don't know anything about lady clothes—but I'll get Cosetta for you, she's the seamstress's apprentice," Dylin turned around focused down the corridor, "Cosseeetttaaaa!"
His voice tumbled in an echo down the corridor, reminding me how empty it was—so void of life.
The end of the corridor was decayed since Dylin was a small ghost and his memory only extended for a few feet in every direction around us. However, the end of the hall was added in memory as a young woman maybe a few years older than I appeared and advanced.
She stopped in front of us, "What?"
"This is Miss Elle, she wants to know about clothes," Dylin bowed at Cosetta and introduced me.
"Ah yes, the living lass," Cosetta looked me over and I thought I sensed a slight jealousy.
She ushered me back into the bedroom and closed the door on Dylin, causing him to protest with "You're mean!"
"Be gone child, lady clothes are of no interest to you," she retorted. She spun around and withdrew a measuring string from her pocket, "If I am to make you a dress I shall need your measurements."
I had done this before many times, so I immediately stuck my arms out and let her go to work. The blanket dropped to the floor and I was chilly once more.
"I didn't see you at breakfast," I said, to initiate conversation.
"Of course not, it was mostly the higher servants and courtiers who were invited," Cosetta sniffed, "Not that you would have known."
I had though.
"You sound awfully bitter," I noted.
She looked up from measuring my waist and frowned, "There's a lot to be bitter about."
For a moment, I had forgotten that they were all no longer living. I swallowed, but found my voice, "How did it come to be?"
She shrugged a shoulder, "There are rumors of how it happened but no one is certain. I know that I was just about to sleep one winter's night when a horrible chill swept through me, then…nothing more," Cosetta seemed to stare into nothing, unless she was pulling from a memory so deep within her she was focusing on that. "Suddenly, I was here again but I saw my body. I saw everyone's bodies. I saw a dragon. It has been this way for so long."
She lifted off her knees and started forward looking to the grand windows of the bedroom. Her stare remained focused from within though. "I've seen this castle slowly rot into this wretched state and relish walking through my memories of it—returning it to what it once was."
I felt a sadness grow within me for all those who had died, "How did the dragon come to be?"
She whirled around, "I can't say. He hadn't been there before, and I never saw him arrive. He just appeared. They say a fairy was at fault."
Yes, I knew that too.
She was done measuring me and after convincing her of the newest fashions, she left, assuring she would have me a garment by the next morning. I hated to wander about in my undergarments, even though there were only ghosts, a dragon, and no proper people about to see. The castle was gloomy, even in the daylight—feeling so extraordinarily haunted. I could see the perpetual dust motes float in and out of the light penetrating through the windows. I walked up and down the large hallways and tried opening doors. If the door opened I would pop my head inside to see what was behind it. Most were rooms of no accord—probably had been the chambers of the live-in courtiers.
No ghosts made themselves known during my wanderings, which made me wonder if they were silently watching what I would do, or perhaps they were just not there entirely.
When I ascended the grand staircase to the third story, it was entirely new, as Dylin had never gotten the chance to show me that early morning. The doors were wider, which meant the rooms were greater in size.
I was about to pull open one of the double doors while biting the inside of my cheek in burning curiosity.
A hand landed on my wrist. I screamed and jumped away, giving my wrist a vicious tug.
"What are you doing?" Jargon's form appeared from the air and he demanded to know.
"I'm exploring the castle," I frowned.
"There's no time for that. Brunus wants you in the kitchen," he once again grabbed my wrist and tried tugging me along, "And you might want to put on some decent clothes."
A deep blush rose to my cheeks and I dug my heels into the dusty marbled floor stubbornly. Jargon twisted around with narrowed eyes, searching me for something. "Be careful not to wear out your welcome."
"Welcome!?" I cried with distaste. I gave another tug and was out of his grasp again, "I am a prisoner—"
Two of his lavishly ringed fingers shushed my lips, "You are a prisoner but we haven't yet treated you as one—you have our welcome—well most of us anyway."
I clenched my jaw and refrained from cursing him in Ogrese. If I was as good at the language as mother, perhaps I could have convinced them all to just let me go. I remember the exact moment I wanted to know how to speak the language—I was six years old and it was because of one of mother's stories.
"I was alone with eight ogres, all who I had convinced to sleep, but my curse wouldn't let me leave them. SEEf had told me to stay."
I was engaged in mother's bedtime story, my eyes wide, fearing for her… "Mommy, but mommy! How did you escape them!?"
My mother gave her secretive smile as she pulled my covers to my chin. "Don't fret darling, your father arrived with his knights and he told me I could leave. I was finally able to go to the giant's wedding to find Lucinda, and of course, daddy had a pack of ogres to arrest."
Mother sat up from the side of my bed, and walked the parameter of the room, blowing out the candlesticks that were lazily burning around my room in glowing light.
"What happened at the wedding? Did you find Lucinda?" I asked, but my eyelids were heavy, ready for dreaming. I didn't want to sleep though for I loved my mother and her stories but didn't get to hear them as often as I wanted to. She would be departing again in the morning with father—I wasn't informed to where but I knew it was not there—with me.
She came back around and gave me a goodnight kiss on the cheek, "Now that is another tale for another night. Sweet dreams my darling, I shall miss you when I'm away,"
"Nighty night, mommy. I'll miss you too."
I shook away heavy feelings of missing my family and wondered if dragons had their own tongue—Dragonese—or something of the sort. I had stopped walking to study a torn up tapestry that was draped along the tall wall. The stitching was frayed too badly to make out the story it had once told.
The tapestry was renewed at once, and I saw it was a great king atop a black stallion, fighting a dragon. Was it the same dragon that dominated this castle? I had heard stories about Dregat—it was known as the dragon lands. I supposed dragons not to be a rarity in the once-alive kingdom. The King was an older looking man, perhaps older than my own father but I could tell he was valiant. Of course the only reason I was able to see the tapestry in its whole beauty was because Jargon was standing close, and glowering at my tardiness to follow him.
"You are wearing my patience, girl," he sneered softly. I jumped at the coldness of his breath on my cheek and turned to see him march down the hall, beckoning me to follow.
"SOOrth aVaR FFnOO" I mumbled under my breath, my urge was too strong to repress, and used with as much smoothness as I had ever heard mother use. ("You are sour.")
He whirled around all of a sudden, pushing me to the wall. I yelped in surprise, never having been so roughly handled by any male excluding my brothers when we fought.
"How does a cook's helper know the language of the Ogre folk?"
My eyes widened at his knowledge and acute hearing. My mind scrambling to come up with a lie.
"I…I…was just mimicking a phrase I heard an ogre say. There is one in the menagerie in Frell."
Again, his eyes narrowed but he let me go, warning me to be of no more trouble. I disliked Jargon as he remained haughty and indifferent while he led me to the kitchens—not even once apologizing for his behavior. I glanced back at the double doors, further down the hall and found it more than a little coincidental Jargon had stopped me from entering when no one had appeared when I was entering rooms left and right. I sensed there was something special about that room and I would find out what it was as soon as I could.