The Ghost of Winterlove Castle

Chapter Four

The castle doors were grand. From the angle Orphelia was at— which was a neck-bending one— the wooden iron-cast doors had to be taller than Big Ben himself. They seemed to penetrate the grey sky and paint dark streaks of mist, a canopy resting over the whole castle like a child's woolen blanket.

Unease coated Orphelia's arms in pickles of gooseflesh. Excitement and curiosity rushed through her veins and into her troubled heart. For the first time, in a long time, Orphelia felt something other than sadness and misery. The castle, in its own strange way, helped her. Orphelia didn't dare leaving, for while the castle had a gothic atmosphere, it carried her in hands of comfort. Most wouldn't have risked the climb up the hill and onto the grounds of the abandoned castle. If they did, they would have turned around after the sight of the central courtyard.

The courtyard mirrored something that was once beautiful. The long lost happiness left its mark. Everything was beautiful, but despair touched everything and left a heavy coat of a disastrous past. The flora was in a state between life and death. The flowers were in shades of black and red. Beautiful and alive, but morbid. They resembled a person who suffered from a terrible experience but pretends otherwise. Orphelia could sense the pain lying in the courtyard. The castle was a person in a sense. The cobblestone paths of the courtyard were cracked in multiple places. Those were open wounds. As if the stone could feel pain, Orphelia had avoided the cracks in hope to not bring further pain. That's the last thing she would ever want to do: bring pain where all she wanted to bring light, happiness, joy, and ease.

And so Orphelia had carefully made her way to the grand doors and stood there, debating whether she should knock. The castle from the highest of corners and the lowest of stones looked abandoned and uncared for. A thought filtered through Orphelia's mind: if someone lived here, they would at least put in some effort to care for the grounds. Orphelia couldn't begin to imagine someone living here and not caring for the home. A home, no matter where it is located or how large it is, deserves care and love. This castle hasn't been shown love in a long time, and it was falling apart because of it.

Orphelia lifted her hands to knock slowly, but before she could, the door creaked open. A soft, masculine voice intruded the air, reaching her chilled ears.

"Come in."

Orphelia, having no idea what else she could do, followed the man's voice inside. Once she is inside, the doors shut, and something that sounds like a lock clicks into place.

Orphelia stands in what she imagines in the entryway, a rather large one from the appearance of it. It was abandoned, broken, and in ruin. There was no man to be found. Where a fantastic marble floor design might be, there was instead a giant hole. The hole was black pitch and deep. Orphelia did not want to know where it leads. She walked the perimeter and further took in her surroundings. Ivy grew along the walls, floor, and ceiling. Since no one seemed to care for the castle no longer, Nature decided to and covered it in its love. The main staircase was almost unusable. As Orphelia stared at it, marble was falling off in areas and landing with sharp thumps at the dilapidated floor.

Orphelia spun in a circle, attempting to take in everything. Thunder rumbled, and rain poured as if it were running from the old gods. There was no possible way Orphelia could leave now. Getting up the castle's hill dry was difficult, hiking down it in the rain would be a different sort of adventure, one that Orphelia had no desire to partake in. Orphelia stopped mid-spin. She heard a faint voice, her invisible man was speaking again.

"Close your eyes, love. Don't open them until I tell you."

Orphelia listened. She closed her eyes and for extra measure, wrapped her arms around her bodice, as not to take up unnecessary space. Air whipped around Orphelia. She heard marble scraping against marble and vines being cut softly. She heard wood creaking and crystals clinging against each other. A light duet. If it were real, Orphelia would say magic was happening around her, but she knew better than to let her head's wishes get ahead of her logic.

After several minutes of strange noises, they stopped. Silence filled the air, and the only thing Orphelia heard was her own breathing, slow, quiet, and steady. Then she listened to the man speak again, this time, he felt closer. Not right next to her, but somewhere close to her in the room.

"You may open your eyes."

Orphelia did. And she stumbled on her feet after what she saw. The castle was beautiful and no longer in ruins. The giant hole in the center of the room was filled, and polished dark marble was in its place. The ivy which encased almost everything was gone. Portraits of possible relation to the strange man lined the walls, practically interrogating those who walk through the castle doors. Ornate vases full of glorious dark red roses lined the perimeter of the room. It was as if the entryway was the courtyard and not the actual courtyard. Silver details of swords, flora and fauna, and ancient deities climbed up the walls and reached the middle of the ceiling. The chandelier hanging was indescribable. It was something made for royalty by the gods. Since it was located in a castle, it fit perfectly. Instead of glass or gold, the base and stems of the chandelier were made from small pieces of mirror. If one stood directly below it and looked up, they would see themselves as multiple tiny people being fascinated by something so beautiful. At the curved part of the stems, sat candles, which lit the whole entryway. The silver details along the walls and ceiling reflected the light enough that no other source than the chandelier was needed for light. The roses basked in the slow glow and resembled small embers, slowing burning in unescapable majesty. Orphelia stared at everything in awe. Something moved in the corner of her eye. Orphelia quickly turned her head toward the main staircase. There was a man, a young one, probably around her age, maybe a couple years older, standing at the base, staring at her.

"You can see it?" said the man, his brows furrowed in disbelief.

Orphelia slowly nodded. "Yes, I can see what once was abandoned is now beautiful."

The man asked, "Only those in pain can see what I can do. I can make things better than what they are for those who are suffering." The man walked toward Orphelia with steady steps. He stopped about five steps before her. "How much pain do you carry?"

Orphelia, now that the boy was closer, inspected his face and structure. The man had dark locks that reached just past his jawline. His eyes were grey surrounded by light traces of blue. It looked like the grey consumed the blue, pain destroying happiness. The man wasn't exceptionally built, but he carried a firm, muscular stature. His face. . . his face was the hardest thing to look at. It was molded in pain. There were no lines around the man's mouth. He hasn't smiled in a long time.

Orphelia looked the man in the eyes and responded, " A lot. It hurts my heart."

The man looked solemn. He responded, "I see." The man extended his hand toward her. "Pain is bearable when one is with another also in pain." Orphelia grabbed the man's hand, and he began to drag her towards the staircase. He stopped and turned around once he reached the first marble step. "My name is Edmund Lockscraft, Prince of Winterlove Castle. Welcome to my home."