Spirit Warrior - The Keeper Of The Northern Gate

The Keeper of the Dying Land - IIII

                                          

My beautiful tower room has lost all its colors. It's no longer beautiful only a prison to me, a prison I can't escape from. I'm looking at my reflection in the mirror. It's so elegant. The frame is formed long thin pieces of iron weaving in and out of each other. Small elegant leaves seem like they grow out of the white iron. Every now and then a fragile rose seems to grow and bloom so beautifully, but even the roses have lost all their color.

I close my eyes and wish myself back to my many years in Kaupa. I'm in the beautiful garden which lies just beside the castle facing the sea. The soil is sandy there, not perfect for growing roses but the weekly flow of rain made them bloom over and over again. There was a heavy fragrance lingering around the garden. Everywhere there were roses, yellow, red, pink every color the mind could imagine.

My father made the garden for me, he had all the roses planted thinking it was my favorite flower. What a lovely flower a rose is, you can't help but love it. Still, I couldn't find it in my heart to favor it over others flowers.

When I open my eyes again, the mirror frame is not what I'm really looking at anymore. I'm looking at the reflection, one I do not even recognize myself. The blonde hair is still the same, newly washed as always, long and curly. The blonde hair is a trademark of the royal family, it's a rare sight in Kaupa.

I lift one shaking hand from my side to touch the forming bruise. The tender skin underneath my right eye is turning a slight blue color that's so clear on my porcelain pale skin. My cheek is still red from yesterdays quarrel with the snake. I run my fingers over my split lip, it's finally stopped bleeding but it's still very tender.

I look into a pair of blue teary eyes. The tears are threatening to fall but I refuse to let them. Never will I spill a tear for violence. I push a few strands of hair behind my ear and smooth down my sky-blue dress. The neckline of the dress is high but still showing some of my collarbones. The top of the dress is tight, formfitting, the sleeves of the top are tight down to my elbows where the fabric starts to fall loose layers. The bottom of the dress is loose; the fabric is light and flowing at the slightest wind. The back of the dress is longer than the rest and it trails behind me.

I step away from the mirror and I lift up my dress so that I can step into my shoes. There are no heels they are all flat and very light. They are very fit for the warmth of Tuath-tir but not fit for the cold of Theas or Enyadell.

When I reach the heavy wooden door I grab my light cloak it's thin and not even warm enough for the spring in Enyadell, but I still shrug it on at least it keeps some of cold at bay. Just as I pull the hood of the cloak over my head there's a knock on the door.

Shortly after it opens andthe snake steps in, his eyes narrow slightly at me but does not utter a word.He just turns on the spot a starts walking away, and leave me to high tailafter him.