Munto stood in an oddly, bleached-white hallway. He didn't smell anything, but the splotches on the wall reminded him of acid burns. They were an off-white, only partially camouflaged against the panel.
Bright lights flickered above him, but he couldn't hear them. No buzzing. No clicking. Only silence. Not the type that rang in one's ear either.
Pure silence.
He stepped forward, figuring this might be a laboratory of sorts. The design resembled the inside of the United Army's ships. Clean and formal. Rigid and minimal in design.
Munto cringed, not willing to venture further, but his feet moved on their own. At first, the corridor appeared endless and isolated with no doors or other corridors to explore. Then, he began to see short pathways connecting his path to another, parallel path.
He continued on, inspecting each hallway, but never straying from his own.
Soon enough, he caught sight of someone in the parallel corridor. Blonde hair disappearing quickly. Too quickly. He didn't get a chance to see their face.
Munto increased his speed, but a light jog wouldn't be enough. The most he inferred about the person was it had been a girl walking with long blonde hair. A girl who, with each and every glimpse, grew taller and taller.
Full on sprinting, he watched as her figure came further into view with each hallway. Tall with long blonde hair. A chain trailed behind her at one point, but it left as soon as it came.
Munto ground his teeth and sprinted forward, passing the interconnecting hallways without notice. He came to a sudden halt and waited with bated breath for her to appear.
Just as he hoped, she came into view with easy, relaxed strides. A grown woman with beautiful, sunkissed hair that reached her lower back. Braided to keep out of her way, pink peonies stuck out along the full length in a beautiful arrangement.
His breath caught at the sight of her dress. Made of rich material and craftsmanship, it elegantly wrapped around her slim figure. Such things a queen would be seen wearing.
A crown adorned the top of her head with fine detail. He couldn't mistake the style or the colors. Custom to fit her, but nonetheless a homage to the late queen. His mother.
The woman came to an unexpected stop and faced him. Her hands interlocked in front of her. Shoulders back. Chin high. Gaze level and firm with his own. Emerald eyes piercing.
Those delicate hands clenched the fabric, knuckles white. Surely, under such pressure, it would rip. She'd tear it to shreds.
Her face decayed from that of a regal statue to a cry of agony in a matter of seconds.
Munto heard nothing. Not his own ragged breathing. His rapid heartbeat, blood rushing through his head. Above all, he could not hear her screams as her face distorted and became a concerning shade of red, tears falling from her eyes, and she doubled over.
Her crown rusted and scattered to the floor in broken pieces. The dress lost its vibrant blues, greens, and reds to a dominating gray. It melted into pale skin, revealing the dirt and blood underneath along with new, torn clothing.
Clothing fit for street rats. The uncared for. The unwanted.
Her appearance morphed from the fully grown queen to a young prisoner. Shorter in height, gaunt in the cheeks. Despite the de-aging, her eyes remained just as ancient. Worn and tired, but older than her years. Filled with agony and hot tears that ran down her cheeks. Cheeks so hollow the bone underneath protruded unnaturally.
She fell to her knees. Fading. Not like dust. Like a body. A dead body. Decaying.
Munto woke to blood rushing in his ears, making him dizzy. His heart beat fast. Too fast.
He pushed himself up and detangled the sweat-soaked sheets from his legs.
The nightmares plagued him constantly. Ever since his parents' passing, they rudely jolted him into consciousness.
Unable to return to a peaceful slumber, the king left his bed in search of water. The silver cup felt heavy but he lifted it to his lips and let the cool drink calm him.
He couldn't recall much of what scared him so. His subconscious knew it all, to the point he couldn't stand the sight of his usual golden goblet. The color always sent his heart racing and he had to close his eyes to stave off a headache. If he feared the sight of a golden cup, you could only imagine his fear at the sight of a blonde woman.
How could a stupid color such as yellow cause such a violent reaction?
He wished he knew.