I roam the castle walls, empty and cold is it’s corridors.

Frail and sickened is this body of mine, but even still I find myself moving forward to explore.

These walls.... Filled with memories from a past long forgotten, pictures of people who once we’re revered by the people. Worshiped and loved by the masses like kings and queens who ruled just and kind.

Yet these walls hold more stories than a single king can contain.

With my candle I light the way, faint is it’s Flame but efficient is it’s light.

“Just like me” I remind myself while I chuckle.

The cold hurts my pale skin, and I find fear seeping it’s way throughout my system.

The pictures of the king, the queen, their families. It told a grandiose story about heroes who saved the poor people from famine, those who needed to be saved were rescued by the royalty of this castle.

Even throughout this frostbitten weather of this castle, those pictures of distant memories still filled this frail body of mine with warmth.

But these walls held more stories than a single castle could contain.

This corridor was long and never ending, no one could entail how long had I been traversing it’s halls. But who would think I’d come up with the first relic of its creation ?

A painting portraying the first king, his kin surrounding him on his deathbed, and a child next to him.

The king lent his hand to the child and the child put the kings cold, blue hands on his cheek.

The child was familiar but never had I known who he was. Nonetheless I kept moving forward, unfolding the stories that these walls held.

The more I walk the less light my candle would emit, it’s such a small thing but it had kept me warm for so long...

Yet the story continues, the child grew to be a king like his father. Yet a king is a name, not an act, for his face was cold, lifeless and devoid of emotions. Yet he held his staff strongly, and his rule was revered by the people just as well.

A scoff left my lips as I walked forward, how could a child so innocent turn to a king so emotionless ?

Could ruling over this land be So taxing ?

I walked and I walked but what I uncovered was frightful...

The king laid on his bed, he looked just like his father... What had happened to him ? A child laid to his side, grabbing his lifeless hand and sticking it to his cheek.

The painting so similar to the one before it, making me think I was looking at the same one.

Going back through the halls I wanted to inspect it, yet when I went back the young king was nowhere to be seen. The previous king was laying on his side, alone and scared, his eyes held the gaze of one who had stared into the abyss for so long that he had seen something inside it...

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Confused and scared I marched forward once again. How could a painting change ? Did I see it wrong ? The thought plagues me.

The new king now grew up, this one looking less and less of a human than his predecessors. Eyes empty of hope, face pale like a corpse, and lips that only muttered what the people wanted to hear. Yet his rule was reverential, and the people loved him for he was just and true.

So was being king so draining ?

Just like his father he laid on his bed, the familiar child standing next to him. But this time he wasn’t kneeling on the ground with his father’s hand on his cheek. He just gazed at the lifeless body of the old man, as if I was a few minutes too late to seeing this painting.

I wonder...?

The next king was masked, he wore a glorious golden mask that only had 2 wholes for his eyes. And even then it couldn’t hide their lifeless colour. The king was blind... Yet even then he ruled with power over his kingdom and his rule was revered.

I wonder how many stories this castle holds.

I moved and my candle dwindled, it’s flame almost fully gone, I was cold...

Dragging my feet forward I was shredded with fear.

The boy.... He was there, but this time he was already older. He wasn’t a little child, he was in his adolescent stage. He grabbed the neck of his father and strangled him to death, an act that brought him great joy.

The king ruled, this time unlike his predecessors he ruled with a smile on his face. Yet I couldn’t help but notice a tinge of redness on his lips, could it be... Blood ?

The king grew older and older, and I noticed a date on this picture 1670, must be when the painting was drawn.

Continuing on forward the future generation shared similar feat’s. Each one of them having more and more emotions than the last, yet their rule was shorter and shorter.

Soon enough I had reached somewhere close to the end of this long road, I could see the end in sight.

But there were still just a few more stories left in this abandoned castle.

Yet when I looked at the next painting my heart sank, I dropped backwards and fell as I watched in horror.

The kid was looking at me, his eyes those of a demon, with a smile that itched it’s place on his face from ear to ear. He’s...

“just like the devil “ said a voice in my ears as my candle went out.

The corridor was dark and now freezing, it was cold Pitch black, and scary, yet the only thing I could see was the gleaming eyes of the demon in front of me in the painting.

Running hurriedly I moved to the next paintings, relying on the moon’s cold light to shine on my path.

The upcoming paintings were ruled by a man who was loved by all, with great stamina and abilities. He was handsome and surrounded by many women.

But even then his fate was that to die just like his father and the ones before him.

Bracing myself I had tried to imagine what I’d see in the next painting, but nothing in the world could have warned me about it.

The painting.... It was empty.

Nothing was in there, the bed was empty, the room was empty, no one was in sight.

And to my right I looked, where the end of the corridor was.

There was one last painting left, covered by a cloth.

Hesitantly I opened it, and there I saw it.

The devil looking back at me. His face fully red, big horns came out from his forehead that were so tall they created a circle in the top.

He smiled at me, as if he knew I was looking at him. I moved backwards but to my surprise, he moved as well ?

Wait no.... This was no painting.

I placed my hand on my lips only to feel a toothy grin taking it’s shape.

All this time, it was me, I was the child, I was the king who ruled, I was the one who died again and again in order to appease my people, I was the one who made a deal with the devil so I can make those that I rule over happy.

Yet now look at me, stained with my own blood, turning into the same thing I had sworn to destroy. A person who feasts on the misery of others...

A devil.

And just like that I went back to the end of the corridor, bringing my candle with me, rekindling it with a flame from my own touch.

Smelling it’s sweet scent that made me forget all about my problems, as I looked at the paintings that reminded me of glorious past.