The Castle of The Beast

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 And so Beldon rode away into the night, through the forests. Somehow he could feel the direction he should go, though he couldn't explain it. His instincts led him deep into the darkness, away from the paths, far away from the trails tread by travellers until he came to a stop in a clearing, his instincts finally failing him.

Cold, his heart pounding, Beldon knew he was now lost. His horse pawed against the ground and he heard the howls of forest beasts in the distance.

He let out a breath, his gasp misting in the air before him.

His attention turned to the rose, now dry and wilted in his grip. A petal fell away and drifted into the darkness.

... Then another fell away and followed the first, then another and another. The trail of petals danced away on a non-existent wind, down what could have once been a path but had long ago become overgrown and disused.

Urging his horse onwards, Beldon rode after the petals, dropping the naked stem aside as he rode, chasing them through the darkness, seeing them only when a patch of moonlight flashed through the canopy above, lighting them up for a mere moment.

The air became colder; chills ran through his clothing, his eyes stinging as the cold air rushed across his face. And then he saw the white against the ground.

He pulled his horse to stop, staring down. Snow littered the ground, but that didn't make sense. It was only autumn, snow could not possibly have fallen yet, and the canopy was too tightly woven together to permit it to fall so heavily that it formed a carpet.

Looking up, Beldon pushed his horse on again, the petals almost out of sight. He rode, on and on until the forest suddenly fell away and he came out at the edge of a great expanse.

Beldon gaped, his eyes wide. A pasture was spread out before him, trees that would bear fruit in the summer months lining one side, a huge lake stretching into the distance set on the other. And before him was a castle.

Looming up from the darkness, it towered in shadow, the moonlight barely casting any light upon it. The face was darkened and glared down on him as he slowly walked his horse forwards.

But more astounding than anything else, everything was covered in snow. The lake was frozen over. Ice encased the trees. Frost crunched under hoof.

There was one light in the castle, high above at the top of one of the towers.

Beldon slid from his horse when he reached the gate – towering gates with coiling patterns across them, hideous grotesques glaring down at him, sneering and sticking out their tongues.

Reaching forwards, Beldon set a hand on the rails and it swung open without command, making him jump back against his horse.

They both looked through the gates for a moment, then slowly edged through, making their way across the bridge that spanned a mote and up to the front doors.

Roses were carved into the doors, along with weeping ladies, their hands pressed over their faces, briars coiling around their gowns.

"What a wretched image to greet guests," Beldon muttered to his horse as he rested a hand on the door and pushed.

The door slowly moved away under his command and he looked in.

Bidding his horse to wait, he stepped inside.

A magnificent entrance hall greeted him. Bathed in moonlight that fell through high stain glass windows that depicted more weeping or pain-stricken figures. The ceilings arched high above him, displaying the five storeys of the castle. Grand staircases swept up on either side of the hall and pillars stood tall to hold up the balconies, what was beyond those pillars was cast in shadow that was formed by the roses.

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