A princess on the run with her life; shunned from her kingdom. An evil king pulling the strings. A woman, trapped inside a mirror and unwillingly causing evil. A girl, determined to find her sister even if it costs her life.
Snow White's fairytale i...
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Don't say the sky's the limit when there are footprints on the moon ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
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The Acplyna Castle was a foreboding sight. It was perched on a staggering, scraggly cliffside, with smooth white marble walls and twisted turrets rising up against a breathtaking view of the kingdom below. Guards roamed the walls - each with sharp iron spears and the kingdom's colors (red, green, and gold) painted proudly across their breastplates. To reach the castle, invited visitors would enjoy a ride on a tram or gondola lift, with awe-inspiring views and a quick tour of the countryside to match. Uninvited guests, however, rarely made it up the cliffs - never mind the hungry animals and monsters lurking below. The palace was a beautiful fortress, especially when the moon rose and the stones seemed to glimmer.
But to some, it was a gilded prison.
It was night, and the stone walls of the arching Acplyna palace were dark; shadows lingering on the smooth gray stones like the stench of musk lingered around the sweeping tapestries. Just hours ago its stones had vibrated with the throng of servants, animals, cooks, guards, nobility, village members, royalty, butlers, and Stewarts rushing through its walls - but as night fell, not a whisper was heard.
The Queen was said to roam at night. The monster was said to feast. No one wanted to be out here. Not if they had a choice.
The full moon glistened beyond a glass stained window - the moonlight and twinkling starlight being the only light filling the castle now that the fires had been snuffed out. The warmth filling the hallways had long died as well. It had been defeated by the bitter frost and winter night.
The only living soul gliding through the long, dark corridors was a figure, draped in a black cloak, sweeping through the tiled halls. Her cloak obscured anyone from seeing who she truly was. The figure was a woman, and she moved gracefully; with the only sound, she ever made being the light pitter-patter of her feet as she strolled through the walls as if she belonged.
Even though darkness had long since defeated the evening sun; the figure knew where she was going - gilding through the hallways easily and purposely despite the lack of light. The woman's shaky breaths filled the air, turning into steam as the figure turned a corridor; exposing more endless darkness ahead. Spiders nestled into the cracks of the stone walls, cobwebs draping from torches, and an eerie, howling wind that brought the lightest touch of snow. The figure shivered, pulling the cloak tighter around herself - cursing herself for even entertaining the notion of what she was doing.
No one wanted to be out here - they would all much rather enjoy the feeling of their satin sheets beneath them, or would rather soak in the Roman-style steamy bathhouses, but the figure had no choice. Lingering in the castle walls at night was a death sentence. No one was out unless their life depended on it.
