“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.

The wind whistled around me and the tall trees cast shadows on the ground. Am I the only one who thinks everything has a face when your scared? I could see two eyes and a devious smile in everything, from the shadows the trees reflected to the two glowing windows in the tower up ahead. A small overlook wrapped around the top compartment lined with rails and gargoyles. The bottom half was spiraled and twisted in a way that reminded me of a tree, but if you looked close enough you could see the cracked stones and vines threading this way and that. The building almost looked like a treehouse. But it definitely wasn’t a magic treehouse. I tugged my jacket closer and stumbled along the path. The tower was the last place I wanted to go, but it’s not like I could just wait the night out under a tree. I’d die from frostbite or maybe get eaten by a wolf. The tree could collapse on top of me for all I know. The point is, I was getting hungrily desperate. Any bit of shelter would be like a dessert. Even one with creepy statues. I tried to convince myself that as I stepped up onto the path and faced the rocky monstrosity before me. Imagine a haunted house on stilts. I approached the wide door and knocked. The wood felt wet and I could almost feel my knuckles freezing from the water. Great. Maybe this wasn’t a sweet treat. Maybe this was poison, a faster way towards death. I could use that for marketing. The door swung open, interrupting my train of thought. The light inside was warm, despite the questionable location of the building and the spooky architecture. I squinted my eyes, trying to make out who’s silhouette was standing in the doorway.

(Im gonna continue and edit this I just wanna save my streak <3 )

I could smell something delightful, “what was it” Sheila gasped, “I don’t know but it was definitely something familiar”, i responded, And off we enter towards the dark tower. As we closer approached i found myself again, amused by the smell and still unsure of what it could be. when all of a auss

The fog was grabbable and it wrapped around me like a blanket, but it wasn’t protecting me against the angry thorn bushes I was fighting my way through. I blocked my face as best I could and continued to trudge through the forest of death, my way pathetically illuminated by my headlamp. Excitment and nervousness peppered my guts as the decimated roof of the infamous abandoned manor came into view. I had to stop myself from squeaking with joy, and continued to stealthily maneuver through the woods towards the structure.

Once upon a time an ancient kingdom was vanquished by greedy monarchs who wished for wealth. The prince of the kingdom was an honorable warrior who had been defeated by the monarch’s forces, he left a great amount of treasure inside his hidden tower. His descendants who lived as royal nobles were the only ones to have known about the tower, but they were not capable to found it without the help of others. Dave was one of the few who had been hired by the noble family to assist them in the search of the tower. The man was a former farmer that was unwilling to live his life forever in the bottom of the society, he have astonishing talent for exploration and was hired because of it. He served as the first group to participate in the search, and was the first person to have found the dark tower. Once he saw the solitary tower, a thought has risen in his mind, he could steal the treasure and flee to another country without having to worry about the reprisals of the noble family. But this thought was quickly be restrained by him, the noble family was to powerful he couldn’t afford to risk his own life for wealth. Just as he decided to turn around and report to the family for their reword, a man appeared in front of him. It was the spirit of the dead prince, he requested him to help him take revenge on his wife who had betrayed him. His wife made a deal with the monarchs, that is if she betray her husband they would spare her life and left some money for her to survive. In return he would grant his treasure to him and protect him from his family if they come after him. Dave accepted his offer and assasinated the ninty years old wife of the prince.

The long, winding path through the forest has been more difficult to navigate than I originally expected. Between the overgrowth, the poison oak, and the thickets of prickle bushes, I will surely be returning home with a significant number of scratches and bruises. But I have to see this place. I’ve heard so much about it, and it sounds too bizarre to be true. People say if you walk through this forest, you’ll find an enchanted tower with no windows or doors on the ground floor. The only way in is to climb the hair of Leznupar.

The story of Leznupar is an old wive’s tale. Stories that parents use to scare children, and children use to scare each other. Just as some places show bored youths testing their courage by blowing out a candle in the middle of a graveyard under a new moon, in our town you test your courage by trying to find Leznupar. Other friends of mine have tried, with no success, to find the high tower. But they tend to try in groups. I think the tower only appears to those who search alone. But I’ve had no proof…until today.

I walked for hours looking around and was about to give up when it…appeared. A window, lit by a single candle, floated a dizzying height in the darkness. It wasn’t until my eyes adjusted that I saw the truth of it: a tall, twisted tour of mud and stone. It had a peaked roof and a chimney, but no indication of an entrance on the ground. I strode to the tower, standing directly beneath the window, and cleared my throat to speak.

“Ahem, Leznupar, Leznupar, hear my plea, Consider hearing out my wish, and lend your hair to me.”

Silence. The seconds stretch and I stand stock-still in the windless night. Above me, I hear a whipping sound, as of clothes being snapped to their full length before being placed on the drying line. A thick, black braid of hair lands be for me with a sharp thud on the ground. As I grab hold, and give a small tug to test its sturdiness, I feel the urge to climb.

As I ascend, I think of the old stories. The high risk, high reward stakes of Leznupar. If you can survive the climb and speak to the mysterious figure in the tower, she will ask you for a wish. If she finds you worthy, and if it’s within her power, Leznupar will grant your wish. But if she finds you wanting, or feels you ask too much, she will cast you from the top of the tower to the earth below. It is a dangerous task, with a high possibility of death or injury, but I’ve come too far.

I reach the top the the hair and take a moment to sit comfortably in the windowsill, gently rubbing my hands. It’s dark, despite their being a candle mere moments ago.

“Excuse me? Fair Leznupar?” I called.

“Yes, child,” a voice reaches my ears, as though coming from right next to me. But I see a figure appear across the room. She is tall, and rail thin, with something not quite right about her. I attempted to ask again,

“Fair Leznupar, please hear my request. I’ve felt alone for so long, I just wish to be with others who may understand my feelings.” There is a pause after I speak, and then the figure moves closer. As the clouds covering the moon part, I see more of her. A dress of black and red attempting in vain to cover pale bare feet. Her skin at her hands, chest, and shoulders bore a striking resemblance to the color of a funeral shroud. But most fearsome of all, when I happened to look towards her face, I let out a gasp of shock. Leznupar was indeed beautiful, with soft and flawless skin, but her neck was unnaturally bent, as though broken, and the smile on her face was inhumanly wide and appeared like a gash across her otherwise pristine face.

As she spoke, I realized the voice I heard earlier as if in my head was the same. It was a high, breathy voice, demonstrating a slight wheezing quality that may not have felt comfortable in her twisted neck.

“Speak child, if your heart is true, and it is within my power, I will do what I can to ensure your wish. But be warned, to fail is to die,” the gash turning into a wide, lopsided smile.

“Again, I ask you se-see if there is a way for me to not be alone. Please, help me feel like I belong.”

At this, Leznupar twitched and wore a wide slash of a smile. “You wish to not be…alone”

“That’s right,” I swallow “I wish to spend more time with people I care about and not feel so lonely.”

Leznupar holds out a hand, “come with me.” We float through the room toward a door and I feel a bout of sickness rush over me. She opens the door and says “take a look, child. The answers you seek will be in there.

Skeptical, I look through the doorway. “I’m sorry fair Leznupar, I don’t see any-“ I feel a hand push into my back, sending me flying. As I recover from the fall I hear a hoarse laugh and “enjoy your new company” as I turn to see a dark, glimmering eye and a slash of a smile disappear behind the closing door. I look around and see skeletons hanging from walls, stripped and bleached. As I look around I realize, this is my fate. And I think to all the stories I’d heard from friends, granted wishes or a tumbling death. At this point, I wish the death was true.