In a castle veiled by the mists of Scotland, a Queens reign shimmers like a tempest's eye-a beacon of strength amidst the encroaching darkness.
Beside her, Caius, the enigmatic king consort, wields his loyalty like a blade, his heart a fortress aga...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
January tenth, 2012.
Caius.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
There I stood, on the highest balcony of our home, my crimson red eyes gazing upon the castle that defined the skyline, focusing on the citadel that had risen from the ashes of our past.
More than just a fortress I concluded; it was a manifestation of my wife's resilience and the very essence of the power she wielded.
As the wind whispered through the air, carrying with it the scent of molten rock and charred earth, I found myself both awed and troubled by the creation that rested not all that far away from me.
Five years had passed since Aros's death, and in that time, this place had grown into something quite marvellous.
Perched on a rugged cliffside just off the coast of Scotland, the castle overlooked a vast expanse of forests and the dark relentless sea beyond. The location had been chosen for its strategic advantage but it also symbolised the unyielding spirit of its queen.
The volcanic rock that formed its foundation, melted and shaped by Azara's fiery breath, stood as a stark contrast to the lush greenery that surrounded it.
The castle itself was an imposing structure that much I could see, more a battlement than a palace. Its black stone walls, smooth and impenetrable, rose high into the sky, their surface glinting ominously in the moonlight. Towers and turrets jutted upwards, their spires piercing the clouds. Each stone had been meticulously placed, each corner reinforced with an intention of permanence and strength.
Massive gates guarded the entrance, wrought from iron and enchanted by my wife to withstand any assault. They bore the crest of the new queen, a dragon entwined with a crown, showing her power but also her sovereignty. The drawbridge, when lowered, revealed a pathway lined with the banners of loyal covens, reminding those who tried the path of the alliances the queen had forged.
I recalled the creation of this edifice, born out of necessity and ambition, crafted through the combined might of my wife's telekinetic abilities and Azara's dragon fire.