Eight. Eight. Eight.
Just a number, you'd say.
But is it really?
To me, eight is something different. It's a number of choices, a number of paths, and number of a code, a number of family, a number of luck, a number of misfortune, a number that I'll never truly figure out.
Okay, okay, you think I'm crazy.
But I'm not. Eight became an important number to me, more than I ever thought it would.
You are probably going to look at me weirdly now and back away slowly, but wait, and listen. For I shall spin a tale or my life to this point, as to how eight became one of the most prominent numerals in my life.
....
"Cyndae!" A nurse maid called, dashing through the halls to find her mistress.. "Mistress Cyndae!" But the girl was nowhere to be found. Panicking, the young woman tore through the castle at warop speed to the throne room, bursting into tears as she ran in.
"Your Highness!" She called desperately as the lone Queen turned from her window.
"Princess Cyndae! She is gone yet again! I kept her room locked, I stayed in there the entire time, and I triped over a toy and by the time I got up and looked around, the door was ajar and the princess was gone!" She sobbed.
The Queen glared, but not at the nursemaid. "You tried." She said, in a monotone. "She is unstoppable, it seems."
"Yes!" The nursemaid cried.
"I see. I will find her. Stay put." With that, the single ruler descended the steps from her throne with a flourish and swept through the castle, ordering guards to do this, to do that. It was then that she barged into an old storage room that hadn't been opened in many, many years. The lock had been broken, so the Queen knew her daughter must be in there. She walked in, her face ruddy and wrinkled in worry, and took a step back. The room had an aura that made it magical, almost haunting. Light shown from the only window in the room, one that was stained glass and sent spirals of color in mutiple directions. Her toddler daughter was sitting in the corner of the room, her eyes in a hypnotized looking state. Old furniture, books, and clothes were draped around her, dust drifting around, but nothing seemed to bother the little girl. She was peering into a small, dank chest, the color of compost, with a rusted iron lock which hd been busted completely. The Queen moved up behind her, ready to pick her up when she noticed what the girl was reaching for. A little golden button, that looked completely innocent, but the Queen knew it's power, that it could hurt, and even kill. Gasping, she yelled. "Cyndae, don't touch it!" But it was too late, as a flash of white light exploded from the girl's hand, sending the girl's mother tumbling into an old bookcase as the guards rushed in, finally, to help the royal pair.
....
Uh, hi, thanks for reading. :) This was my first actual Wattpad story and I'm still not exactly sure how this works, but it'll work out, I promise.
