Winter made his way out of the main building of mazes… eventually. And in the nick of time since he was about to have a heat stroke in this heavy coat. Once he found the grand doors leading to freedom, he sighed in relief.

I searched for almost an hour!

When he left his room, it had just turned 3:00 P.M.

Then he passed a cobweb-covered grandfather clock in a hallway not long ago. It was nearing 4:00.

The prince still couldn’t grasp why it was empty except for that nude creature from earlier. Given the time, people should be busy preparing for the evening. 

Are there any servants, though? This place is creepy as heck.

It was like he had stepped into a haunted mansion straight out of the scary books he would “borrow” from the library. The ones that would frighten so much that he had to keep a candle on at night.

Winter felt watched and followed. His backside itched from the gaze of something. A marble-sculptured man with a sword plunging into his chest made him grimace. The tragic paintings of war and death made him uneasy. The scenes of decapitated heads and blood became more gruesome. 

One was out of place—a woman holding a red apple. He stared at the fruit for a second. When he blinked, the woman was a skeleton and the apple was rotten.

He thought he heard whispers, yet nothing was there. At one point, he had to carry a candlelit torch because some corridors lacked windows. Without a light, it was pitch black. 

When the eerie howl rang through the air again, it was louder and closer. Feeling confident this was the way, he kept going and eyed the dark surroundings warily.

Magnificent domed doors with a rustic brown finish and iron plates nailed on them appeared. Winter dropped the torch as he hurried to pull them by the thick metal hoops, also made of iron. Interesting, actually, since this metal was a fae’s weakness. Perhaps the saying was false?

When Winter opened the heavy doors, the light reflecting off the snow blinded him. His eyes ached as they tried to adjust. It took a bit before being able to open them, albeit squinting. He raised his arm above his head to see better.

It was a courtyard with a water well and… a garden? Or what used to be a garden. Like the plants inside, they were all dead and neglected. The limp flowers were brown and colorless. Tall trees that must’ve taken hundreds of years to grow were bare, gray, and brittle-looking. How the castle was “taken care of” was completely opposite of the Queen who was obsessed with upkeep and maintaining its beauty.

Beauty, beauty, beauty. It was all she ever talked about.

“Damn it,” Winter cursed. 

The path had been cleared before, but the morning's recent snowfall had already covered it. He treaded carefully not to get snow in his shoes. Each step made a loud CRUNCH sound.

Winter observed the downcast sky. It wasn’t snowing anymore. In fact, the temperature was much warmer than when he was on the balcony. He wouldn’t need the elvish coat if it grew any warmer. The dead of winter had become early spring.

By the time he reached the end of the courtyard, the CRUNCH had become SLOSH under his feet. Walking was more challenging, trying not to splash cold water up his ankles. The gatehouse was in sight where there should be a guard to oversee the portcullis, or a grilled gate that opened vertically. The snow had melted here, making the tan grassy area flooded.

The portcullis was wide open, allowing anyone to enter or leave. There was no guard, either!

“Where is everyone?” Winter asked himself in disbelief, thinking he had actually hallucinated the white-haired elf, the servant, and that thing with the bucket. 

Is this just all a dream? Did I trip and hit my head while picking apples from the dwarves’ orchard?

Tiptoeing through, he peeked on the other side. As expected, the area was another courtyard, narrower and enclosed by a bricked structure—the curtain wall protecting the castle’s interior. But it was so rickety that just one touch would topple the entire thing.

Winter didn’t see the outer gatehouse with the main door that led to the outer grounds and into the city. In fact, there were no towers either. Just this wall that never ended, extending forever. 

He faced the left. Then he faced the right. Which way?

Well, let’s try the right an—

“Why is he going that way?” a tiny voice said.

Winter paused, wondering where it came from. 

“Poor things gonna die if he goes right.”

“Hello?” Winter called out to the mystery voice. “Why will I die?”

There was a brief silence. “You… you can hear me?”

“Uh, yes? Where are you?”

“Turn around so you can see me better. I’m very tiny, you know.”

A tiny what?

He scanned the portcullis and swore there was no one earlier. How could he have missed them?

“Down here.”

Slowly, he looked down, unsure what he was trying to see. But when he moved closer, he saw a little movement. There was a crack between the bricks. In between the crack was a… door? It was smaller than his pinky finger.

A fuzzy black-and-white striped spider was on the ledge in front of the minuscule door. Not the horrid-looking barn spiders with lanky legs longer than his hand. It was just the right size not to be scared, even if one feared arachnids. If anything, it was kinda cute.

Its four front eyes were wide and round, giving it an innocent appearance. 

“Can you really understand me?” the jumping spider said and tilted its head.

“I can.” Winter squatted to get on its level. 

A lot of things changed after the incident of glass cutting his eye—improving health, sensing the “evil” in a soul, and…

Communicating with animals was a fickle ability. Sometimes, it worked well such as now, when they could exchange a short conversation verbally. Sometimes, it was merely him talking, but the creature could understand his words. Or they couldn’t comprehend each other at all.

It took a while for him to conclude that it likely depended on the beast’s intelligence or will to correspond.

This bug seems smart.

“Why can’t I go right?” Winter repeated.

“You’ll die a horrible death,” it said in a cheery tone.

“And if I go left?” 

“You’ll die a less horrible death.”

“What’s the less horrible death?”

The spider scratched its head with a teeny paw. “The soldiers and servants will be returning from the Witching Hour anytime. They’ll come from the left.”

“What? But it’s during the day.”

The Witching Hour, or Dead Hour as some referred to it, was between 3:00 and 4:00 A.M., when demons, supernatural creatures, fae, and spirits were at their strongest. Humans avoided walking around at night for fear of encountering one.

“Don’t you know, human?” It laughed. “Your realm’s time is the opposite of here. It’s morning there but afternoon for us. Everyone has been going to the lake to attempt to cross into Midgard to escape. With the Lord temporarily gone, the fae abandon their duties during this hour. But they’ll have to stop trying once he returns.”

Midgard. That’s Norse for Earth, my realm. 

“Why the lake?”

“Like a mirror, it has a reflection. And with mirrors banned in Myrkrheim, it is the closest thing to it. You can cross realms if you have a mirror or something similar.”

Winter recalled the elf losing his temper when seeing the mirror in his room. “I thought souls could get lost in a mirror.”

“Of course! Of course! Mirrors are doors to Myrkrheim and vice versa. When you enter that door, it is quite easy to lose your way forever.” The spider snickered like it told a funny joke. “Forever and ever, forever and ever, forever and ever…”

As it sang and did a dance, Winter felt a pull in his heart. He had to go, or at least that was what he sensed. The pull wanted him to go outside, beyond the castle.

“So, do you recommend I go left?” Winter inquired, disrupting the spider’s performance.

It stopped. “I do! I do! It will be much easier to deal with those fae. All you need to do is remember—be wary of their tricks, do not give them your true name, and that they are weak to iron.”

“Even though the bars on the doors and other things I’ve seen in the castle are made of iron?”

The spider didn’t answer. It was dancing, waving its arms in the air. Perhaps their communication had faded. It often happened if one side became distracted. 

Winter stood and walked left in the snow, hoping anything he came across wouldn’t attempt to kill him. 

When the mortal was out of sight, the spider living in the cursed castle's inner wall realized his new friend was gone.

“Did he not like my dance?” It shrugged. “At least he didn’t go right. That would’ve led him straight to King Taerynn’s residence. Don’t wanna bother him, do we? A certain, horrible death, indeed.”