“For the curse of life, is the curse of want.

And so, you peer…

Into the fog, in hope of answers.”

- Ancient Dragon

“Tell me another story!”

Arienne, his older sister, had snuck into Bradshaw’s quarters to spook him with scary stories. Despite her best efforts, however, nothing would scare the little lord this night.

Bradshaw was nine tomorrow; Arienne had turned ten-and-two last month.

Sitting on the sill of the window she had crept in through, Arienne smiled, realizing her error. “It’s easy not to feel afraid when you’re under your covers!”

She reached over and ripped the comforter away from his chin. Once she had wrested control of the covers away from her brother, she tossed the tangled bundle to the floor. “Come with me!”

“To where?! You know Father disapproves of us galivanting!”

“Father is off at war in the north, Shaw, with Uncle Godwin and Benja Wynter. You know that.”

“Father will find out; father finds out about everything.”

“Only the things Benja Wynter tells him about!”

He watched as Arienne lifted her legs over the edge of the windowsill. A strong sense of urgency overtook Bradshaw as Arienne called for him from the rooftops. Landing on the ceramic tiles outside, he saw the outline of his sister’s nightgown beckoning him down the slanting rooftop.

As he followed Arienne’s shape, Bradshaw felt the absurd fear he had failed to feel earlier. In the moonlight, or in silhouette against a backdrop of stars, Arienne’s figure was just out of reach, just void of detail. He felt like a ghost might have beckoned him out from under the safety of his covers, guiding him helpless to a sudden end.

“Take my hand.” She helped him climb up a ledge, his bare feet scraping against the smooth, cold walls. “See the prince’s tower? We’re almost there.”

Having traversed several rooftops away from their home, Bradshaw noticed the prince’s tower outlined behind the fortified walls separating Monarch’s Keep from the rest of the city. The structure was isolated and under constant watch. “Arienne?”

“I had an idea at the feast today,” she said when he caught up to her. Arienne was pointing to the right of the prince’s tower, past the sparring grounds and at the great hall.

Bradshaw kept his reservations to himself, continuing to follow Arienne down from the rooftops and onto the street below. Down the road from their home, they crossed the sacred plaza and the Duome of Mourning. At the other end of the plaza, Bradshaw noticed golden guards patrolling the exterior of Monarch’s Keep. 

“Arienne!”

Without saying anything, Arienne led him flush against the castle’s walls. They were both under shadow, but the sound of two approaching patrols meant they would be seen in a matter of seconds.

Arienne sunk into the stone, her hand reaching out and pulling Bradshaw in with her.

Where two segments of the castle’s defenses met at a corner, time and rainfall, along with an architectural oversight, had conspired to develop a crevasse just wide enough for an adolescent to shimmy through sideways, their nose rubbing against the damp granite.   

On the other side, within the grounds of Monarch’s Keep, the two of them kept close to each other and moved like mercenaries in hostile terrain, waiting patiently for golden guards to pass on their patrols so they might creep closer to the great hall.

These twin mercenaries entered the great hall through an unlocked back entryway. They passed crooked stacks of plates and cups still waiting to be washed. The feast had only ended a short time ago, the celebration going on long after the children had been escorted back to their homes.

“Remember the musicians playing from up above the dais?” Arienne asked.

Bradshaw nodded, still too afraid to speak.

“They must have got up there somehow.” Not long after saying this, they discovered in the back of a pantry a ladder leading up from the kitchens to the balcony.

The long trestle tables, four of them parallel to one another, were stretched out below them. Six shafts of moonlight fell through the great-hall’s six skylights, giving shape to the rafters that supported the vaulted ceiling.

With no fear, Arienne vaulted over the banister of the balcony and caught the closest rafter, pulling herself up and into the crook of the V-shaped support.

  “You’ve gone mad!” Bradshaw’s hushed tone filled the entire great hall.

“It’s your turn. Jump! I’ll catch you.”  Her words surrounded him, bounding back and forth like music.

“Arienne, I- I cannot!”

“What are you afraid of?!”

What Bradshaw saw below was a dark floor littered with chicken bones and melted wax. It was easy to imagine the lava however, and the leaping, snapping jaws.

With a running start, kicking off from the banister, Bradshaw flailed through the air until he felt Arienne draw him in. He caught his breath leaning against the other side of the support, trying not to think about how they would get down from here. 

“Are you scared now, Shaw?”

Too breathless to answer, he nodded his head, closing his eyes so that he wouldn’t be reminded of their precarious perch.

“Good, you’re ready now…” Arienne leaned forward and nimbly crossed over to another support. Bradshaw couldn’t take his eyes off her as she traversed the intersecting beams. “Ten years ago, before you were born, there was a humble community of farmers who lived just north of Mount Wynter. Yes, back when the land beyond the mountain was fruitful. It was a land of plenty, but no longer…

“Season after season, it was proven that nothing was too cumbersome to grow in the river valleys at the base of Mount Wynter. The harvests were so plentiful, they named the city Gardenia.

“This was a time of peace in the kingdom. Gardenia was fortified on all sides by intricate and colorful bouquets that seemed to burst from the soil.

“And, as it happened, it was not only flowers which bloomed to breathtaking beauty in Gardenia. Lady Ingrid Snell gave birth to Lia Snell, a most beautiful maiden. On the day she turned ten-and-six, a procession of wealthy heirs, humble farmers, rugged miners, and impish hunters stretched out Gardenia’s gates. The lord of Gardenia, Othello Snell, was in a position to ensure his kinship’s place amongst the most powerful families in Unitare.

“Lia Snell had her pick of suitors. Princes from every realm brought her flowers and miners brought her their most prized garnets. With the proper marriage, Othello knew that Lia’s children would inherit a king’s worth of riches…

“But she refused everyone!”