The endless adventures of the Dimension Princess

Chapter 2: The Castle

After a few minutes of silent walking

"There it is. Follow me."

The old, small white wooden bridge we cross spans the narrow creek that encircles the abandoned castle, its weathered planks creaking underfoot as it bows beneath the weight of years gone by. Stripped of its former luster, the bridge stands as a relic of a forgotten era, its once-bright paint now faded and peeling, worn away by the relentless march of time.

As the creek trickles lazily below, the bridge arches gracefully overhead, its arched beams casting elongated shadows upon the murky waters below. Moss and ivy cling tenaciously to its weathered surface, weaving a tapestry of greenery that blends seamlessly with the surrounding landscape.

Though its railing is worn and splintered, the bridge remains steadfast in its purpose, providing a precarious pathway across the creek's gentle flow. Each step upon its worn planks is a journey through history, a fleeting glimpse into a world long since vanished.

And as the whispers of the past echo through the surrounding woods, the old white wooden bridge stands as a silent witness to the passage of time, its weathered frame a testament to the enduring spirit of resilience and endurance.

Then I see it.

The once-majestic castle, now reduced to abandoned ruins, stands as a haunting reminder of its former glory. Its towering spires, once reaching proudly towards the sky, now crumble and decay under the weight of time and neglect. Vines and ivy snake their way through the cracks in the weathered stone walls, reclaiming the fortress inch by inch.

The grand entrance, once a beacon of opulence and prestige, now lies shattered and overgrown, its ornate doors rusted and broken. Inside, the halls that were once alive with the bustle of courtiers and servants now echo with the ghostly whispers of the past, their once-luxurious furnishings reduced to dust and debris.

The castle's once-imposing towers, now mere skeletons of their former selves, lean precariously against the backdrop of a desolate landscape. Windows long shattered stare blankly out into the void, offering a glimpse of the world beyond that has long since forgotten the fortress's existence.

Yet, amidst the ruin and decay, traces of the castle's former splendor still linger. Faded tapestries hang limply from the walls, their once-vibrant colors now muted by time. And in the heart of the fortress, the crumbling remnants of a grand throne room stand as a testament to the power and prestige that once resided within these walls.

But despite its dilapidated state, there is an eerie beauty to the castle's ruins, a haunting allure that draws visitors from far and wide to gaze upon its faded grandeur. For even in its darkest hour, the abandoned castle stands as a silent sentinel, a testament to the passage of time and the impermanence of glory.

"Despite its state of ruin, it's quite beautiful," I find myself saying aloud, unable to contain my awe.

Brakka nods, a faint smile gracing his lips. "You have to get closer for it to work," he instructs me cryptically.

"For what to work?" I inquire, perplexed by his remark. He lets out a slight groan, seizing my hand and urging me forward. A blush rises to my cheeks as he leads me towards the castle's entrance.

As we step through the front gate, time seems to slow to a crawl. Glittering particles begin to descend from the sky, enveloping the castle in a radiant glow. After a few moments, the spectacle subsides, leaving the castle restored to its former glory.

My eyes widen in wonder, and I can't resist twirling amidst the falling glitter. I feel Brakka's gaze upon me the entire time.

"Wow," he whispers in awe.

"Did you say something?" I inquire, turning to face him.

"No!" he hastily replies, his cheeks flushing. Then, with a smug grin, he adds, "Looks like the mayor and our legends were right."

I sigh, feeling overwhelmed by the weight of responsibility. "These are amazing, but it's a lot to take in. What if I fail? I can't bear to let everyone down."

"What are you talking about? You already exude the aura of a leader! You're perfect, just like the legends say. I may have only just met you, but I know you're the one for the job. And you won't be alone—we've been preparing for your arrival since we arrived here ourselves," Brakka reassures me earnestly.

"Brakka..." I begin, touched by his words.

"Let's explore the castle together. It might help you feel more at ease," he suggests.

"Okay," I agree, my mind racing with thoughts as we traverse the castle's corridors.

In the courtyard, we encounter a grand fountain and stables to the right. A well stands nearby for gathering water. Ascending the stairs to the grand double doors, we enter the throne room.

"To the west wing is the Princess's private chambers, study, and library. In the east wing, you'll find a mysterious hall filled with magic, as well as servant and knight quarters," Brakka explains.

"Good to know," I murmur, feeling overwhelmed by the enormity of the castle.

"Would you like to sit on the Throne?" Brakka suggests playfully.

"What? Oh, I don't know, Brakka..."

"Do I have to pull you there myself again?" he teases, prompting me to hurry over to the throne, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Oh no, no, no, I'm perfectly capable of walking myself!" I protest, reaching the throne on my own accord.

As I settle onto the throne, Brakka steps forward, standing before me as I nervously perch on the imposing seat.

"Now you know what it will be like during your Coronation," he announces solemnly.

My face drains of color at his words. "C-Coronation?!" I stammer, taken aback by the unexpected revelation.

Brakka chuckles softly. "Yes! How else did you think it would be made official?" he remarks, his tone light but teasing.

A whimper escapes me, betraying my apprehension at the prospect.

He sighs, his expression softening. "I know today must be very overwhelming for you," he begins, attempting to comfort me.

"Yes!" I interject, my voice trembling with emotion.

"Let me finish," he insists gently. "But once you've spent the night in your new bedchambers, this will feel like your home," he explains, his tone earnest.

Tears well up in my eyes, my resolve faltering. "I don't want this to be my home! I want to go back to my actual home—to my mom, my sister, and my friends!" I blurt out, my distress palpable.