The Empty Mirror
Dungeon
At length, the throbbing core of the castle was reached: the great hall, whose splendour vied with that of a hidden realm within another, in the highest and most remote heights of the construction, a forbidden precinct for the common plebeian. The ceilings, in their haughtiness, stood imposing, disdainful in their unshakeable grandeur. The aged, sturdy wooden beams seemed to be the last silent witnesses of a long-forgotten past, whispering vestiges of magnificence that faded into the shadows. The castle, that enigmatic labyrinth of mysteries and shadows, had always kept him imprisoned within its narrow and oppressive chambers. Never before had the opportunity to venture beyond its limits been offered.
What secrets would its bowels hold? What significance would this place hold for the ancient aristocrat? They were questions without answers, dungeons of uncertainty that seemed to emerge from the abysses of time. An oppressive sensation seized the atmosphere as one progressed through the labyrinthine corridors, as if the very walls of the castle exhaled a disquieting sigh, an echo lost in the wind. Silence reigned, only disturbed by the echo of cautious footsteps, erratic pulsations in a fading heart. The air was laden with a murky current, a disturbing presence that slipped through the interstices of the air, blurring the boundaries between the corporeal and the ethereal. The ominous silence of the castle seemed to whisper in complicity as Giselle, her gaze lost, directed her attention towards the unfathomable ceiling that obscured her vision.
With an inquisitive countenance and curiosity painted on her face, she inquired, "Is it, perchance, true that you have never trodden the secrets of this fortress?"
"Indeed, I have never dared to unravel the mysteries of these unknown domains," he responded with a patience bordering on desperation, aware of the oppressive shadow looming over their conversation. "That secluded chamber is my only reference in this world," he added firmly.
The spark of curiosity illuminated Giselle's eyes, who, with renewed vigour, continued, "But why? What cause has led you to resign yourself to such austere confinement?"
"It was a decision of mine, taken with full willingness..." he declared with uncertainty and a gravity that echoed the solemnity of the moment. "I do nothing but fulfil the penance imposed, the sole legacy granted to me to uphold."
Giselle's voice became uncomfortable, as if she were trying to kindle the fire of a faltering dialogue. "Have you pondered, perhaps, the purpose this place held in days of yore?”
With an eloquence that unraveled the echoes of bygone eras, he articulated his response: "It is quite credible that this sombre precinct was once consecrated to the delights of the castle's inhabitants, welcoming within its bosom minstrels of ancient times, whose exploits and songs echoed in these walls, eliciting laughter and merriment among those present."
A shiver snaked down Giselle's spine as her pupils wandered, inquisitive, through the dark corners of the chamber. "Something similar I have found in readings of yore... doubt assails me... To whom would this solitary monument have belonged?"
With unshakable serenity and a glimpse of ancestral wisdom, he replied without hesitation: "It was bequeathed to an elderly aristocrat, whose name has been lost in the shadows of oblivion."
"Now... I understand... bullfighters," murmured Giselle with a voice laden with resignation, allowing the inevitable flow of events to intertwine with her discourse, saturating it with overwhelming and oppressive melancholy.
Thus unfolded the conversation, immersing them in the most remote secrets of the history of the enigmatic aristocrat and the gloomy fate that had precipitated the castle into its current state of decay. Feelings of longing and sorrow rose in the air, weaving an atmosphere full of meaning and depth, as if the echoes of a forgotten past stirred and intertwined with every uttered word, olé, olé, olé! They continued on their journey, having already observed the majestic and eerie walls of the main hall. They moved cautiously amidst darkness barely pierced by the faint light struggling to penetrate the thickness of the surrounding blackness. Each step was a dance of uncertainty, as Giselle could be felt gripping decisively onto the delicate and distinguished cape adorning her shoulders, seeking in it an illusory and fleeting refuge against the inscrutable threats hidden in the shadows. By her side, he advanced cautiously, holding with trembling hand the oil lamp whose flickering light barely managed to illuminate their path. In this location, once the focus of attentions and pampering by a swarm of servants, Giselle appeared with incongruous confidence, as if she were rooted and entrenched in that mysterious terrain. It was as if, in her desire to immerse herself in the abyss, she had found an unusual sense of belonging in that specific corner of anguish and despair.
Finally, they reached what seemed to be the castle's chambers. A scene of modest appearance, yet exuding an unsettling sense of desolation and abandonment. "Are these... the bedrooms?" she inquired, daring not to turn her gaze towards him, aware that the answer lay in the stale air enveloping them.
"Apparently, that's the case," he responded, stealthily approaching her position, his voice barely a whisper fading into the sepulchral silence of the mist. The chambers, whose walls bore the scars of the inexorable passage of time and human neglect, had once been the refuge of the inhabitants who populated the castle's rooms in bygone eras, or perhaps destined for a select elite of the personal entourage. However, in the present, these places were displayed as decadent and dilapidated quarters, on the verge of desolation at the slightest touch. A cold, dense, icy air pervaded the space, permeating every corner and freezing even the deepest cores of matter.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
"Do you... feel the cold?" she cautiously inquired, her words barely a fearful murmur in the ominous darkness that surrounded them. "Undoubtedly, the cold is present, although my being seems immune to its icy embrace," he responded, his eyes scrutinising every detail of the gloomy surroundings with meticulous attention.
"I understand..." she uttered, letting the words slide between her lips with a resignation that barely disguised the anguish lurking deep within her soul.
The beds, barely discernible amidst the prevailing chaos in that chamber, appeared as humble wooden structures, intertwined with ropes forming a resting place. With measured steps, he approached one of them and could observe how the mattresses, composed of tattered straw and already withered herbs, lay in such a lamentable state that they scarcely deserved to be named. It was evident that the notion of privacy in those quarters was a scarce commodity, as they gave the impression of being shared by several occupants. The beds, lined up against the walls according to an unwritten rule, although some, boldly, seemed to defy such order. The curtains, intended to offer a visual division, failed to provide a true intimate refuge. With palpable reservation, and while his gaze scrutinised the place, he asked, "Would the lords of this castle have found rest in these beds?" His eyes meticulously surveyed the surroundings before responding firmly: "I doubt it. Surely they enjoyed wider and more sumptuous beds, in chambers separate from this modest setting.”
He reflected with a touch of melancholy: "I understand... These beds must have been intended for those of lower rank, or perhaps some were forced to lie on the hard ground." In his personal experience, rest was often found on those thin mattresses filled with layers of straw, arranged unpretentiously on the floor or on a worn-out pallet. A small cushion usually accompanied his hours of sleep. However, he felt uneasy contemplating those beds and all their peculiar characteristics.
He approached the walls and noticed that most of the tapestries were torn and in a pitiful state. He couldn't help but comment: "These tapestries, undoubtedly, were placed with the intention of infusing an illusory sense of comfort and warmth in this forsaken place…”
"Do they perhaps instil in your spirit that sense of warmth?" he inquired, surprising her with his unexpected question.
Initially, however, she somehow felt a glimmer of comfort nesting within her as time passed in that environment. "I perceive that you have sealed your determination with certainty," he whispered as he stealthily slid around her, meticulously scrutinising every corner like a champion of secrets.
"That is correct," she replied with a conviction that emanated from the depths of her soul.
The chamber revealed itself as a modest and functional abode, a refuge capable of satisfying the most basic needs of rest. Although to many it might seem a mere illusion of convenience, for her it became a sanctuary where she found a semblance of security and repose. "Can you envision yourself occupying this space?" he cautiously inquired, longing to understand her perspective and immerse himself in her inner world.
"No, I am not worthy of such noble dwelling," she affirmed with determination, her words resonating with enigmatic modesty.
They continued their journey, moving away from that corner, foregoing the possibility of apparent rest, but imbued with a palpable authenticity for both. They both rejected the idea of prolonging their stay in that place, fully aware of the imminent torment looming over them. "In vaporous dreams, a deceptive pause without peace, still remains to be deserved..."
In the secluded chambers of the magnificent central tower of the castle, Giselle awakened her insatiable curiosity for the intricate structure of the building. As they ventured with meticulous slowness through the labyrinthine corridors, Giselle suddenly halted her steps to share her musings about the tower. "From the outside, the castle seems devoid of majesty... but once immersed in the depths of its corridors, everything changes drastically. It reveals itself vast, imposing from within," she articulated with a barely contained longing, revealing her growing curiosity and desire to corroborate her own assumptions.
They continued their advance with intricate deliberation, and Giselle continued with her inquiries. "Is this the main tower?" she asked, eager to quench her voracious thirst for knowledge. "Indeed," he confirmed, accompanying her on her pilgrimage.
"This tower personifies the ultimate architectural expression of solidity in the entirety of the castle, doesn't it?" she inquired, striving to maintain a fluid conversation between them.
"Indeed, the keep tower stands as a bastion of strength in the heart of the castle," he replied, seeking to satisfy her query.
At that moment, Giselle recalled a childhood memory. "The castle tower... in a book devoured in my youth, it was referred to as the main tower or keep. It rose in a prominent location to exert an almost divine dominion over the surrounding territories and provide a panoramic view," she added, showing a glimpse of erudition in her words, though her shyness still peeked through discreetly.
Lost in her musings, she immersed herself in a wandering monologue, as if her mind were imprisoned in an unfathomable dungeon. "The structures, once fragmented into multiple sections," he interjected promptly, seeking to maintain the continuity of his discourse and encouraging her to delve even deeper into her meditations.
"The building reveals a square and rectangular architectural layout, hinting at the existence of captivating elements both in the lower and upper floors," he commented, pausing his steps once again, as if the hidden mysteries of the place demanded his undivided attention.
The oppressive atmosphere intensified, as if the very structure exhaled a malignant quintessence that clung to the air. He chose to offer her the choice to continue with the exploration, although he was aware that delving further into that abyss was an invitation to confusion and disquiet. "Do you wish to proceed?" he asked, abruptly stopping as silence enveloped them with an almost tangible force.
"Yes... um... it's truly stimulating..." she responded cautiously, her wavering voice revealing the anxiety consuming her.
"Look at the windows," he muttered, gesturing towards them with a controlled gesture. "They seem forged for defensive purposes, perhaps intended for projectile launching." The vision of sieges and forgotten conflicts forged in her mind, sending a chill deep into her psyche.
"I even wondered if the battlements and machicolations still lay nearby," she continued as they resumed their march, an evil energy, ready to unleash the spectres of the past in their relentless pursuit. "Their imposing presence and elevated position convey an unmistakable message of dominance and subjugation over their subjects," she continued calmly, striving to maintain a steady pace in her words. The whisper of the icy wind echoed in her ears, her words a haunting echo.
"It is feasible, it remains an enigma whether its power had already waned before arriving at this place," he formulated with an air of erudition, his voice laden with mystery. "Even long before that," he whispered, allowing his words to fade into the air, like a distant echo of the past evoking veiled beliefs and deferred legends.