There is a time for everything. A time for sorrow and grief. A time for joy and laughter, for fear and courage. However, to err is human, and in our imperfection we sometimes feel the wrong thing at the wrong time. I steady my breaths. My heart and mind war over what to feel. I _think_ I should be afraid, but I’m not. My heartbeat thumps behind my ears and I choke down my excitement. The last time I stood before these jagged rocks, I was terrified. I knocked on this door once before, and my hand quivered with panic. But that was before I met the man inside. I was lost and cold. My skin was sliced by thorns and my feet blistered and raw from wandering the Black Woods. I had nowhere else to turn. But today, there’s nowhere I’d rather be. I slow my steps and steady myself as I approach the door, the stone path slick from freezing rain. Today, I knock eagerly, paying no mind to the whisper of uncertainty in my head. Hinges creak and warmth pours through the door to mingle with the cold. I drag my gaze up a slender but solid frame clad in black, and peer into dark eyes that shimmer with amusement. I hold my breath. His lips slowly curl into a wicked smile that dimples his pale cheeks and bares his pristine teeth. A deep, velvety sound swims in my ears. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t return, Miss Evera. Please, come in.”

I tugged my hat tighter onto my head as the wind threatened to let it slip. Everyone in town knew best to stay away from Nox’s tower. It was an old and barely ticking clock tower, just as jagged and jaded as its guardian. But I couldn’t let my curiosity go unsatiated. He was at the center of it all in my dream, hand outstretched as the entire world fell to ruin. I needed to know why. The door was unlocked, practically falling off it’s hinges. It’s only saving grace being the overgrowth of vines holding it upright. The smell of oil and dust stinged my nose as I stepped into the tower, moonlight seeping in through cracks in the stone to illuminate the center spiral staircase. I took a deep breath and started my ascent, no turning back now. The top of the stairway led way to something normal, almost homey. The cold light of the stairway was replaced with warm candlelight and the glow of a fireplace in the back of the room. The walls were lined with shelves, cluttered with gears and watches and all sorts of random clutter, except for two solitary windows looking over the town of Forgnox below. “Writer? I presume?” I turned towards the low voice behind me, it was him alright. Hair combed back like some sort of Vampire, greying slightly from either age or stress. And the general aura of exhaustion I was all too familiar with. He smoothed out his suit coat, presumably having just put it on due to my unexpected arrival. “Sorry for the intrusion, Nox.” I said tipping my hat. He held up a gloved hand, “Not necessary, I knew you’d show up at some point I just wasn’t expecting you quite so soon.” He glanced down at his pocket watch a moment before pocketing it again, “Actually maybe you’re late… you should’ve arrived by dawn.” I gave him a puzzled look, “Sorry I… was held up. How did you know I was even coming?” “My dear girl, you’re not the only one with magic that is far too intrusive.” He stepped towards me, “You’re a clever one, surely you’ve figured out that much.” I took another once over his estate, letting out a small chuckle, “Honestly I didn’t want to believe the rumors. Controlling time? Seems like a tall order.” He shrugged, leading me to a set of chairs by the fire, “Controlling is a bit much. I monitor, record, inform. But as I’m sure you’re curious about, there could be more to it than that.” He picked up a kettle from a table between us, pouring myself and him a cup. It was practically scalding hot, but comforting to hold at least, the warmth seeping through my gloves effortlessly. “My magic works similarly, I think. I try to keep records of the world and the people within. Learning about people is an easy feat.” He smiled, taking a sip from his glass, “Is that why you’ve come my way?” I tilted my head like a metronome, mulling over the idea, “More or less I suppose. You understand the strength of such a unique magic. Furthermore, my magic likes to show me things that tend to make things… difficult.” He watched me close, “Seeing you, for example.” “Really?” He said plainly, “Is that all?” “That and the town being destroyed.” “Certainly not ideal. You don’t perhaps think I’m destined to carry out this vision of yours do you?” I shook my head, “It’s never that simple.” I sat back in my chair, “I think my magic just wanted us to meet.” “Well you’re right about a few things. Perhaps we were to meet. But I wouldn’t discredit the destruction part of that vision just yet.” I turned to face him, “Do these things happen to you too?” He sighed, “The only reason I knew you’d be here is because of this.” He pulled out the pocket watch again, “I have one for every beating heart in this realm.” My eyes widened, “How do you, keep track of that exactly?” “Call it intuition. I know exactly when someone’s time is about to cross with my own. Like the gears themselves start to speak harmonically. Each one of these has its own rhythm, and when two or more start to sync up, you tend to notice. Or at least I do.” He grimaced, “It’s an odd feeling I tend to want to avoid.” Strangely I had an idea of how he felt, “So what do you suppose I do?” “Simple.” He pocketed the watch, “Figure out your magic.” I sat up, “That’s not exactly a good idea I don’t think.” “And why not?” I went silent. He sighed, “Look. If you want answers, that’s where they lie. The way this magic works is a mystery, and one most people tend to avoid diving into. The closest you can get is learning what makes yours tick.” “There’s quite a lot of people I’ve found who are having difficulty with their magic.” “Then maybe start with them. Perhaps a bigger picture is all you need.” I smiled, finally taking a long sip of the tea in my hands before setting it down, “Thank you for your hospitality, Nox.” He nodded, “Try not to make it a regular thing.” I made my way back towards the stairs. “Oh and one more thing.” He called back to me. “Yes?” “Be sure not to fall too far down, El.” I stiffened, “How did you..?” He turned away from me, disappearing into another room, “Goodnight!” I turned back to the stairs, slowly descending one after the other, “Goodnight then…”

The tower loomed over me, equally beautiful and menacing. I looked up, craning my neck in an attempt to glimpse the top. Unsurprisingly, I couldn’t make it out - it seemed to be almost entirely shrouded in murky gray clouds. __ _I can’t believe I’m about to do this. _ __ __ I glanced down at my tattered dress, at my worn and muddied boots. I had no choice. If I stayed another night out in the cold, I’d likely freeze to death or starve. My belly growled in acknowledgement. Either I faced almost certain death outside, or I took a chance and faced possible death in the creepy tower. Only one of those options had a slim chance of survival, and so I took it. Lifting up my skirts, I began the trudge toward the crumbling stone bridge leading up to the tower’s entrance. I arrived at said entrance after about fifteen minutes of climbing the dangerously uphill bridge. Stopping to catch my breath, I turned around to look back at the forest from whence I’d came. It was almost entirely concealed by swirling silver mist. “How ominous,” I muttered to myself. Turning back to the large door before me, I stood on my tippy toes to reach the iron door knocker. I wrapped against the heavy wood three times, hoping that would get the point across that I was in urgent need of help. I was greeted by silence. The door didn’t budge, and there was no sound of movement or life from behind it. Reaching up to knock again, I had just grabbed hold of the knocker when the door swung open, sending me sprawling into the stone foyer.

Persinthemum, persinthemum, persinthe..she didn't finish the last word as she gazed up towards the looming castle ahead. The skies had turned an ominous tar colour, tinged with an angry red hue. The skies erupted thunderously.Emily jolted forward from where she stood in the middle of the cobblestone path. Her forehead wrinkled as she stared upward towards the mountains. The castle sat atop the highest mountain peak in Hellscape Valley and Emily knew the climb would be treacherous. She knew only with the assistance of Persinthemum would she harness the strength to make it. Persinthemum had been a constant figure in Emily's life since she was a little girl. Guiding her and giving her the confidence to get through each day. Emily didn't tell anyone about Persinthemum as she knew they wouldn't understand. Her chest raised as she took one long deep breath and again whispered "Persinthemum, I need you" The skies softened, as if the gentle whisper was the antidote for the agitation of the sky above. Emily now had some much needed courage to continue her ascent to the castle. Cautiously she navigated her way through each turn, meticulously darting her eyes back and forth between the castle and her surroundings. She managed to climb quite a few feet when suddenly a burning clawing sensation ripped through her back. Her mouth hung open, a silent scream echoing from the back of her throat. Her eyes, dilated, exposed to the terror in front of her. It scratched and squealed, latching on to Emily's dark knitted sweater. Large talons, each one sharper than the last, piercing through each layer of her epidermis. "Persin...." she gagged, the full word unable to exit her mouth. One more swat of its claw down her back as it screeched a sinister squawk. "Emily, you must run" the voice was soft and nurturing but unfamiliar. Her hand slowly moved towards her back. Her forehead tightened, her eyes winced as she touched the bloody gashes. "Go, now" the voice exclaimed. Emily gulped loudly, peering around for the creature who had taken off as quickly as it had come for her. Pushing her hands into the ground she lifted her battered body up. What Emily didn't realize was that the voice she believed to be Persinthemum was in fact the voice of the Morlitor. The voice that needed her to keep going up the mountain, up the valley and into its lair. The Morlitor could alter its voice, its energy, whatever it needed to get its prize, the human soul. It had been years since anyone had attempted to traverse the Hellscape and The Morlitor was eager to ensure this one made it all the way. Exhausted and writhing from the pain, Emily was unsure if she should continue. This journey was proving to be excruciating. "You must continue, five more miles and you will have reached the top, I believe in you" it was the voice of Persinthemum. The calming voice was all Emily needed to keep going. It was all she ever needed. The voice of reason, the voice of comfort, the voice that told her everything would be ok, even if it wouldn't be. The Morlitor knew this, he had summoned the essence of Persinthemum, used her voice to fool Emily. The real Persinthemum was caged, unable to speak or move. Held captive at the top of Hellscape Valley, unable to warn Emily of what was to come. As the night wore on, Emily managed to hike five miles towards the peak of the mountain, not much further to go until she reached the final destination. "Remember, no matter what, you must enter the castle, you must finish the journey no matter the obstacle" this voice sounded a bit different, not quite the voice Emily found familiar, but nonetheless she knew she indeed had to continue, to reach the top. Inside the castle The Morlitor began preparations for Emily. "The human is soon approaching" the voice was otherworldly, reverberating throughout the castle: Alerting The Others. Screeches and Squeels echoed through the many levels of the castle. A frenzy ensued. Each creature, servants of The Morlitor began to flock to the castle entrance. Taking position, each creature cackled and sneered. They had one purpose. Serve their master, ensure the master was fed both spiritually and physically. Emily was the prize, the nourishment their master had been craving for far too long. The rickety door began to shake as the door knob started to turn. Emily's chest rose anxiously. "Keep turning" the voice assured her. The servants, each more terrifying than the last began to snarl and bare their jagged yellowed teeth as they lunged towards Emily the moment she came through the door. Her screams were earth shattering, each sound bottled up by The Morlitor. The searing sounds to be kept for eternity. The servants dragged her by their teeth upwards through the never ending staircases until they reached their master. The Morlitor, pleased with its human prize, rewarded the servants with the flesh of Emily. They gnawed at her cheeks, clawed at her eye sockets and chomped through her bones. Cruching and cackling with each chew. Her body wasn't important, the physical form was just flesh and blood and bones. The Morlitor had no use for this. The soul, the light of the human is where The Morlitor retained its strength. And so, with the essence of a human, The Morlitor could now grow and strengthen to a level that knew no limits.

I just failed a business and everything is on credit cards. Yes, I’ll take a paycheck for a little while to get out of debt. And yes, if I didn’t leave my career to learn and start business ventures, I would have an extra quarter million in my bank. Despite my explicit mistakes, I wouldn’t change anything because I am so much more afraid of normalcy. Ambition might have been dampened in my heart but it’s still in my bones. I can’t shake it. There must be a reason the love of adventure, science, and risk has hasn’t been removed from our gene pool. Yes, the majority of people are agreeable and content to man their tasks. However, for every ten tribes that tried something new - braved ocean currents - to see how much better life could be on the other side, one of them would make it. They would be the foundation of the New World. A Galileo, a Columbus, a Magellan! They would be enshrined in a Greatness that, unfortunately, their lives never saw. Why? Because if it wasn’t their ambition that killed them, it was the social disruption of an unnerved civilization resistant to change. I can see the paths before me conflict with each other. I could ‘easily’ have kids and provide a stable, prosperous life for them but I only know how to see God when I follow my nature and push myself to fear how big of a task I can manage before me. Whether it’s the rattling of my systems at the nexus of failure across my musculoskeletal, cardiovascular, intellectual, and fibrous mechanisms or the convergence of singular focus on a terrifying realization… I crave it. My fear response must be misaligned. Honestly, it’s not hard to rationalize that it has been to my detriment. I will handle myself but I will implore you to live fully and continue to develop both the foresight to keep your life circumstances coherent to your vision, and the wherewithal to change your situation for the better. So hold onto it: we are the dancers. - Written in a Wafflehouse in southeast Virginia

“To complete the prophecy, we need to travel to Silverstone Tower. Be prepared at 7 o’clock sharp.” I’m marched to my room where food and new clothing await me. I eat and dress in my new clothes quickly. I plan to go to the library and try to figure out what King Theron was talking about. How come I was chosen to be the Ancient queen’s host? There is nothing special about me. I slip out of my room and head for the library. What even is an ancient? I go through the oaken doors and enter a majestic library. “Hello, Queen Cassiopeia.” A soft, gentle, and whispery voice says. I whirl around in fright. The librarian raises her hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m also not going to turn you in. I’m going to assume that you’re looking for a book on the Ancients.” I nod, taken aback by this gentle girl in a castle full of wolves. She picks up a heavy book and hands it to me. “You can take this back to your room to read it, when you leave tomorrow I’ll pick it up.” I nod and hurry back to my room without incident. I open the book and inspect it’s contents. There’s a section on ancient deities, maybe I can find the ‘ancient queen’ in there. Luckily she’s the first entry. “_Queen Chrysanthe is the Ancients powerful ruler. Every year she chooses a new host to reside in. She _ _can do whatever she pleases with her host. Normally, when the queen enters her host it is very painful and _ _some don’t live through it. Every year, someone will be looking for the host because of what they can do _ _with the queen’s power inside them. At the end of the year Queen Chrysanthe will lead her host to _ _Silverstone Tower where she departs from her host with the help of the sovereign. Most hosts do not _ _surve this procedure._” I stare down at those fateful words. Does that mean I’m about to die? Without ever seeing my family and friends again? I slam the book shut and throw it across the room and start to cry. A few hours later I hear my door open and soft footsteps towards my bed. “Cass? You awake?” “I am now.” I groan, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “Good. Listen, I need to talk with Queen Chrysanthe.” Immediately I stiffen and the queen starts to speak. “Eros, sovereign of the Ancients. What is your plea?” Eros swallows nervously and says boldly. “I want you to conduct the Doppelgänger procedure tomorrow.” I scoff. “Nonsense. That might kill _me _instead of the girl.” “I know, but we need to overthrow King Theron and we can only do it if we have Cassiopeia with us.” I hesitate, mulling this over. “You drive a hard bargain, Eros; sovereign of the Ancients. I will conduct the doppelgänger procedure _if. _I feel up for it. Now leave us in peace that way I can rest for tomorrow.” Eros bows and says gratefully. “Thank you.” Then he hurries out of the room. The next morning I awake to violent rays of sunshine, a throbbing headache and loud banging on my door. This day is starting off wonderfully. “It’s time to get up! We leave in twenty minutes!” I groan and scramble out of my bed. New clothes are waiting for me and a small amount of food and water. Ten minutes later I’m outside waiting impatiently for the rest to show up. They arrive at the same time and they all seem suprised that I beat them. “Let’s go!” King Theron grins at me. “Enjoy your last day on Seiren.” I nod and effortlessly climb onto my horse. Eight hours later we arrive at Silverstone Tower. “Up we go. We have to get to the very top before sunset.” It takes another hour to climb up the awful tower. It’s dank, dark, and dingy. King Theron looks at Eros. “Your turn.” Eros looks at me and declares. “I ask to speak with Queen Chrysanthe.” Once again, I stiffen and look at him coldly. He swallows and says in a low voice. “Commence Procedure Doppelgänger.” I begin to rise into the air. The guards shout in fright as I begin to **_glow_**.

Monsters don’t live under the bed Good doesn’t always conquer all Fairy godmothers can’t grow wings Princes only worry about saving themselves Princesses fall to their death in attempt to leave their towers Life never gives us the chance for happily ever after

She came into a clearing in the twisted thicket, watching her feet to keep from getting her boots caught in the gnarled, wicked roots that weaved and whipped through the dirt-packed path. The wind seemed to die. And even the ominous sounds of animals lurking just at the shadows of her vision quieted. A fog settled in front of her and revealed the massive structure, just as twisted and out of place as the rest of the wood had been. Jagged stone carved out the base of the unnatural thing—a stone path wending its way to a broken and aged stone, as if some castle rook had sat here some millennia forgotten. Above the base, sitting upon the shattered rook, balking at gravity and the natural laws of this world, sat a homely looking cottage with neat wood-paneled walls, glowing stained glass windows, and a thatched roof where a pipe chimney jutted out at an odd angle from the roofing. A small attic space sat atop that, gothic Victorian style spires capped the structure. The space around the cottage was not saved from the reality-rending force of the grotesque thing. Rocks and earth rent from the ground floated about the spire. But nothing living dared to approach it. Indeed, the forest seemed to lean away from the strange thing. Neither fowl nor fauna dared enter this space. It was that which shouldn’t be. A thing that shouldn’t exist, but against all reason, it stood there. Nothing rational could explain what she was gazing at, as the fog continued to depart from the space. Rose held her breath as she beheld it, fearing beyond fear that if she let out so much as a sigh that she would be swallowed by it. Even so, something about it called to her. She had sought it out, after all. But she couldn’t find the strength to move toward it. Every inch of her screamed against the thought. Something primitive inside her, some long lost beastial survival instinct begged her to run the way she came and never look back. Still, she took a step forward.

He paces to the crooked house, tilting more and more as he comes closer. The gaps between the windows fade every time you look at a different part. The detailed stones made them hard to stare at. I approached the crimson door, looking directly at the vast door handle. He rang it gently, but it tackled the wood. A stone dropped into the foggy atmosphere as fast as the doorbell dropped. A droopy faced groom cautiously opened the door with a fearful face. “Follow me, sir.” He pronounced his sir very strongly. I wandered through the clacky door to the velvet coated carpet, no stains. The house was very fancy compared to the outside. Rusty to brand new almost. I obsessed over the rows of lighten candles as we walked to the “Living” room. The room was very old, though it was nicely taken care off. ——————// I don’t feel like finishing this sooooooooo ❤️//——————————-

I have a new mare that is dark as the night and fast as the wind. She doesn’t spook at shadows, thank God, because the path to the dark tower is riddled with them. Giant conifers line my path, black as pitch in the twilight. I’m riding to the dark tower to bring a message. I was offered good coin to do so. I have a lantern strapped to my saddle and a sword on my thigh. Suddenly, my mare stops in her tracks. She begins to back up. I squeeze into her sides with my heels. I look up and see the architectural monstrosity of the dark tower rising above the tree line into the glowing sky. Mist is rolling in from a distance. The lights in the windows are warm and welcoming, at odds with the jagged rocks at the base of the tower. “Easy, girl, easy,” I soothe as I pat her shoulder. She snorts. I guide her to the base of the tower, where I spot rings fastened to the rock. I dismount and tie her to the ring, strangely reluctant to leave her. As I walk up the jagged rock path to the door, I turn back once to check on her. She is standing still with her head raised high, looking right at me. Oddly, her eyes look blood red, but I dismiss it as a trick of the light. I take a deep breath as I raise a hand and knock. The big door opens on its own with hardly a sound. I step inside. There are no candles burning in the lower part of the tower. By the light of the doorway and the stairwell, I see rough-hewn stone walls with unlit torches in holders. “Good day to you, Master of the tower! I have a message for you.” The wind shrieks through the tower. The door slams shut. I can’t see anything but flickering in the open stairway as I hear a deep voice say: “Welcome, I have been expecting you for weeks.” The master’s shadowy figure comes into view from the stairs. He enters the room and begins lighting a couple of wall torches. He’s wearing a long robe with a hood that’s draped over his shoulders. “Is that a fact,” I say, feeling defensive. “I just received the missive this morning. Been riding all day to get here.” “Well, well, it only took you a day. That is impressive.” His voice has approval in it as he gestures for me to hand him the letter. I pull it out of my satchel and place it in his outstretched hand. He places it in his pocket as he brings the candle up to my face. He seems to read my eyes as he says: “Interesting. Yet, you bought my horse a full month ago. I wonder why he didn’t give you my message earlier.” “She was _yours_? Why would you sell such a magnificent animal?” He gives me a shark-toothed grin. “To bring you here. She is the reason you were able to find me. She’s made of magic, son. She drew you to her. She carried you over the dimensional gap and into my realm.” I back toward the door, not wanting to take my eyes off him. My right hand goes to the hilt of my sword. I am a traveler unfamiliar with this area. I had stayed in the village for a month because I could afford to, and I was wooing a lass. “If no one can get to this place, how do they even know of it? What of the man who sent me here with the letter?” “My servant, Verdin, paid you to come here. He should be arriving anytime now that his work in the village is done.” After a pause, he adds softly, “You will offer the coin back to me eventually.” I try to open the door. It doesn’t budge. “My horse tried to shy away from this place,” I say, wanting to make sense of things. “Hmm. She doesn’t want to go through the change again.” He nods, satisfied with his explanation. “Will you let me leave, please?” I ask the master, wondering what kind of wizardry he’s up to. “She is a _nightmare_, you know.” He ignores my request. I feel insulted and forget my wariness. “She is no nightmare! She’s rides like a dream.” Master laughs. “You’ll do nicely as my pupil.” I open my mouth to protest, but he waves me silent. “A master should have a student, a student a master.” His tone is congenial, but something about his regal bearing makes me think that if I say the wrong thing he will threaten me. “Let us do this the easy way. Do not test me. Accept my invitation. You will not regret it. You were born for magic.” I wonder if he is hypnotizing me, because I find myself nodding my head. The truth is, I feel like this is an adventure I can’t turn down.