The Immortal King (Wizardy Romance)

Castle of Secrets +

Charlene discovered the ancient castle where she will work as a maid, unaware of the dark secrets that lie within its walls.

Arrival at the Castle

The castle loomed high above her, its dark stone façade streaked with patches of lichen, exuding an unsettling blend of both grandeur and despair that filled the air with an ancient weight. Charlene tightened her cloak around her against the biting wind that seemed to cut through her, as she cautiously approached the towering structure that stood before her. The ancient fortress known as Mortallis, with its crenelated battlements rising against the sky and ivy-covered walls twisting like old fingers, stood like a vigilant sentinel guarding forgotten memories from long ago. "Is this really the right place?" she muttered to herself, her voice barely audible as she peered intently at the spiderwebbed windows that gleamed ominously, resembling dark eyes watching her every move. Adjusting the frayed strap of her satchel that hung loosely by her side, her heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety as she ascended the weathered stone steps leading to the imposing vast oak doors that seemed to beckon her forward. The cold wind whipped around her, tugging at her long hair like playful fingers trying to draw her back. Feeling a rush of excitement yet remaining apprehensive about her new role as a maid within those ancient walls, she stood on the precipice of a new life, filled with hopes and uncertainties, eager to push the heavy door open and finally step inside, revealing whatever awaited her beyond.

Just then, the massive wooden door creaked open, revealing a cloaked figure standing in the threshold. "Are you the new maid?" the figure asked, their voice low and gravelly.

"I am. I'm Charlene."

The figure nodded but didn't step aside. "You should know, this castle holds many secrets, Charlene. Are you prepared to stay here and work hard? and not try to figure out it's secrets that could cause your death if found out?"

Secrets that could lead to her demise lingered in her mind; she was well aware of what magic entailed. Deep down, Charlene understood that accepting this would forever change her life. What secrets lay within the castle of the king of immortals? As the hairs on her neck bristled, she swallowed hard. "I... I suppose I'll have to be."

Once inside, Charlene was led through dimly lit corridors with soft echoes of whispers brushing past her ears. The heavy atmosphere in the castle felt charged, as if it were alive, holding its breath." I'm Mara, the head maid here," the figure said, pulling back the hood to reveal sharp features framed by greying hair. "You'll never get to meet the immortal king, and you'll never try to find him either. Here's your room." Mara opened a door revealing a small chamber, musky and scarcely furnished. "You'll find everything you need here. Just don't disturb the locked doors, and avoid the walled garden"

Charlene raised an eyebrow. "What's in the walled garden?"

"Things best left forgotten. Keep to your tasks, and you'll be fine. Trust me."

The castle's interior was a stunning maze of grand hallways, lined with tapestries that depicted heroic legends and portraits of austere ancestors who glowered down in disapproval. As Charlene wandered, she was enveloped by the familiar scent of dust, old wax, and a deeper, elusive essence—the melancholic perfume of memories. In a shadowy corridor, a figure caught her eye. He was undeniably handsome, exuding a quiet authority that wrapped around him like a cloak. Dark hair framed his chiselled face, and his piercing blue eyes met hers for a brief moment, igniting a flicker of awareness before he quickly turned away, brushing past her as if she were merely a whisper in the breeze, a shadow of secrets.

It happened so hastily that she thought she had only imagined it.  He wouldn't be lurking within the corridors at this hour.  Someone as powerful as him surely had a life outside the castle Mortallis.  The rich and powerful liked parties and socialising, or at least that was how her adoptive parents were, and their friends.

Each passing day, Charlene found her duties entwined with the slow unveiling of Mortallis's layers. As she polished the dining room table or dusted the shelves lined with ancient tomes, snippets of stories began piecing themselves together. There were murmurs of lost lovers, cruel betrayals, and whispered curses that danced through the corridors. Servants spoke in low tones of tragic romances that unfolded within those stone walls, secrets that had lingered far too long. The dark corners of the castle seemed to watch, their shadows stretching ominously, urging Charlene to uncover the stories it cradled. What intrigued her most was the walled garden, rumoured to hold many mysteries of its own. It was said that the heart of the castle lay there, hidden among the overgrown roses, which thrived despite the surrounding decay. Each evening, after her chores were done, Charlene would often steal away to this garden. The moon's silvery glow transformed the tangled weeds into ethereal beauty, and that was where she found solace away from her duties and the castle's thrumming energy.

Charlene wandered deeper into the walled garden, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and night-blooming flowers, she felt a magnetic pull toward the heart of it. The roses, with their vibrant colors now muted in the moonlight, seemed to whisper secrets of their own. It was in this sanctuary that she could almost hear the echoes of the past—the laughter of lovers and the quiet sobs of those who had suffered.

One night, drawn by an almost irresistible curiosity, Charlene ventured further than ever before, past the tangled vines and crumbling stone statues that loomed like forgotten sentinels. There, at the centre of the garden, stood a grand but dilapidated gazebo, its once-ornate structure now draped in creeping ivy. Moonlight bathed it in an otherworldly glow, and as she approached, a shiver ran down her spine.

The air was thick with enchantment, and she could almost feel the presence of those who had come before her—those whose stories were woven into the very fabric of Mortallis. As she stepped onto the wooden floorboards of the gazebo, a low creak resonated beneath her feet. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be enveloped by the garden's mysteries.