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legendarysaniyah · 1 year ago

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The Forgotten Tower [CHAPTER 24]

ᴡᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ?

“Make sure you kill as many citizens as possible, any suspected… supporters of Helene. You’ll be given wealth in return, and I’m sure you’d want that.” The King spoke once more, before continuing to walk off.

Yet another day in Utopia had passed. Sergeant Francis sat by a narrow, closed lake helplessly, having no idea on what to do. He stared at the scenery in complete silence, his blank stare hiding the true thoughts concealed within.

He sighed, his expression one of pure disappointment and shame. He skipped another ragged stone across the lake as he sat on the damp, discoloured grass. He reconsidered the words of the King for a moment, scowling as he replayed the appalling memory over and over again in his mind.

'I regret talking to Mabel.. my reputation is on the line, for god's sake.' He pondered, his fists clenching in silent anger as he sat there quietly. He made sure to glance around a few times, pausing for a moment, before standing up, grasping a sharp stone tightly.

The jagged edges of the stone made small tears on the palm of his hand, crimson red dots of blood slowly emerging from the opening of the skin on his palm. He winced at the mildly painful sensation, before throwing the stone across the deep azure water, mesmerising shimmers emerging from the powerful impact.

He was completely lost in his thoughts. He swept his messy brown hair aside. Pausing for a few moments as he hastily looked at his minor wounds across his palm.

"Francis?" A woman called out to him. Immediately, Sergeant Francis had unsheathed his jewelled dagger, turning sharply to face the source of the voice. It wasn't the gorgeous viscountess that he had come to meet the previous day.

It was the one and only, Duchess Helene of Flita.

He immediately flinched, too frozen to move or speak. A look of disgust was painted across his face. 'Kill her already! Why do you stand so idly?' He thought to himself, his body crying out to him, telling him to run. But he didn't. He just stood there.

What looked like the faint silhouette of Helene flooded his mind. Really and truly, Francis had never managed to see what she looked like. Until now. Was this his time to battle an opponent which he had never truly met? An enemy which he had only heard the brutal and gruesome stories about her.

"You.." Francis stammered, unable to say anything as his voice wavered at the sight of her. He went silent. His expression blank and cold as he glared at her with pure intention of rage. "You WITCH!" He cried in frustration, his fists clenched as his dagger raised towards her slowly.

Helene, on the other hand, did not respond. Her expression was blank and her face was pale like porcelain. From the lack of response, Francis narrowed his eyes, slightly sceptical. Helene didn't move either. It was like an intense staring contest, one that he had never asked for in the first place.

Within a few moments, Helene suddenly shoved Francis into the lake. He yelped sharply, completely caught off guard as he tumbled into the cold, salty contents of the lake. With half of his body completely submerged into the water, he tried to move his hands frantically, trying to scrape across the mud at the deepest point of the lake, hoping to regain balance. His dark coat weighed him down, as if the gravity was at its strongest point.

Oxygen bubbles floated up to the surface of the lake, as he felt a strong force trying to push him in. His eyes were wide open, his hands frantically searching around as the dagger slipped lose from the grip of his hands. Everything sounded too quiet. His vision became more blurry as his eyes stung from the salt water piercing his eyes.

His legs began to frantically kick after feeling the cold, damp sensation slowly enter his entire body. He still felt the abnormally powerful force persistently trying to submerge him into the water. He assumed it was Helene, his mind flooded with thoughts of bewilderment and pure panic.

He tried to hold his breath for a few moments, trying to squirm frantically up to the surface of the water. The water wasn't that deep enough to submerge an entire person, but his body was constantly held underwater by what felt like an act of revenge, an act of justice.

The water stung his throat, the salty contents draining the life out of him as his vision became more unclear, and his senses were more faint, as if they were leaving his presence by the second. He thought he was going to die. Yet he was still determined and committed towards trying to get himself out of this ruin, which he felt as if he had done it to himself.

After a few seconds of consistent struggling, he finally managed to pull his head up to the surface, his energy almost entirely drained.

"Oh-! Francis!" A softer voice cried, which appeared to be the kind Viscountess Mabel, who was clinging onto him tightly. Helene was no longer in his presence. "What happened?!" She exclaimed, her voice sounding concerned and confused.

"You didn't-.. you did not see her, did you?" Francis panted tiredly, coughing sharply for a few moments as his lungs ached in agony, his nerves screaming in pain. They both sat there in silence, the water slowly draining out from his clothes as Mabel held him affectionately with sympathy and care.

"See who?" She asked curiously, squinting her eyes. Francis' expression slowly changed into a scowl, still extremely bewildered from the experience. "You didn't see Helene?!" He stammered in pure shock, his words initially sounding incoherent and hysterical as he glared at her sharply, still frozen in disbelief.

"I didn't see anyone. I saw you from afar, you just turned around with a blank expression and fell backwards into the lake.." She snickered bitterly to herself, imagining the unexplained scenario for herself again. "I was quite concerned. I clearly had to look over at the scene myself." She smiled softly, finding mild amusement as his face became a little bit more red and flustered.

"I must have had some sort of.. hallucination. It felt so real. I was going to die.." He spoke quickly, still in some sort of panic and disbelief. The concerned viscountess nodded in sympathy, staring at him blankly for a few moments before concluding.

"So, tell me more about Helene. I've never seen her around here myself, she's like some sort of legend." She trailed off, quite fascinated. "The elders in Utopia claim that she is real.. but I don't think I'd ever be able to see the woman for myself.. well, not how you saw her just a few minutes ago." She smiled at him kindly, laughing to herself.

"It feels immoral not to help you. I want to do my best to find Helene with you. And she will be taken down." She responded confidently and reassuringly. Sergeant Francis was slightly unsure as to why he noticed a tinge of hesitation etched across her beautiful face.

#short story #creative writing #dark academia #royalty #chapter 24

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legendarysaniyah · 1 year ago

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The Forgotten Tower [CHAPTER 23]

ᴀ ᴅɪꜱᴛᴀɴᴛ ᴀʟʟʏ

They continued to walk through the forests, hoping to find the relief that was once wrongfully taken.

“I am.. astounded by your words.. I really am.” The King of Utopia muttered, glaring at his best advisor, Francis Chamberlain. Sergeant Francis had a cold glare on his face, no emotion whatsoever. He just nodded quickly, before walking off, sneaking past the crowds of citizens willing to speak to their loyal King. “My King, what has happened to you?!” A few concerned mutters and cries of the crowds spread throughout the tense atmosphere in the village areas. “It is nothing, my reign has been chosen by God, and I shall be removed from this life by God only, not from a witch.” The King of Utopia declared, some of the villagers cheering and being extremely supportive for whatever the King was going through, even though they never knew exactly what he was up to.

Francis Chamberlain sighed in frustration, his eyes slightly tearing up over the thought of his dearest sister, who had been indirectly murdered by the cruel witch known as Duchess Helene of Flita. He shrugged the thought off, exhaling sharply as he quickly moved past the crowds and back to the palace. Back where he believed was safe. He wasn’t in such a good mood anymore, he was only bloodthirsty, seeking revenge on anyone who had such involvement with his youngest sister, anyone who dared to encounter the cold, frustrated witch hunter such as himself.

Within a few moments later, he was suddenly pushed back, stumbling backwards as he quickly leaned against a tree to regain his own balance. “Oh my goodness! I apologise!” A woman cried, she looked somewhere in her mid 30s, somewhere similar to Francis’ age. The woman had a pure, long white veil elegantly covering her hair and neckline, as well as beady ash grey eyes. “Don’t touch me! You witch!” Francis snarled, pulling out his dagger, pointing it right at her throat. The woman simply said nothing, her face etched with a nervous expression as a few beads of sweat cascaded down her tanned face. “I’m sorry..” The woman muttered softly, stepping back a little.

“Now just who… are you?” He asked curiously, his expression softening as he looked her directly in the eyes. She neatened her modest, emerald khaki coloured cotton gown with off white velvet trimmings. “My name is Mabel, Mabel Fitzgerald.” She mumbled quickly, innocently looking at Francis. He paused for a moment, struggling to look at the curiosity and innocence in her expression, her ash grey eyes cautiously focusing on his own eyes. “What title do you own? Or do you not own a title at all?” He asked, glaring at her, struggling to give her the same cold shoulder in which he does with every citizen of Utopia. He lowers his jewel encrusted dagger, curious to find out Mabel’s answer. “I am a viscountess.” She smiled brightly at him. His expression changes, slightly humiliated that she has a higher rank than he does. “Why.. why is that, may I ask?” Francis spoke. “Have you already found yourself a wealthy suitor?” He continued as he raised an eyebrow in curiosity, now focused on her. “No.. I just have a wealthy family.” She responds.

“Ah. I apologise for that, my lady.” Francis muttered under his breath. “Is your family… looking for a suitor, by any chance?” He asked, his face becoming extremely flustered as he looked at Mabel, her own smile fading as she took a few moments to comprehend what he had just said to her. “My parents have actually been looking for a suitor for me, I’ve never liked any of them,” She rambled to him, as he eagerly wanted to listen. ‘What am I even thinking?! A suitor for her?!’ The bewildered sergeant thought to himself, but he hesitated.

“If you’d like to… I’m always willing to meet you in the palace gardens.” Francis smiled back at her. “The palace gardens? I am not sure if I am allowed to go there, wouldn’t our King do something about that?” Mabel asked, interested in his offer. “As the King’s loyal advisor, I’ll gladly ask him to allow you to enter the palace gardens. Consider yourself welcome within the palace gates, my lady.” He reassured her. “For now I must be by the King’s side. I do not wish for Duchess Helene’s evil actions to overcome someone as kind as yourself.” Francis told her before quickly walking off. Mabel glanced back as she saw Francis walking off. “Well.. I’ll see you then.” She laughed quietly to herself, as she walked in the direction she was originally heading to.

Sergeant Francis covered his face in shame, sighing frustratedly as he headed back to the palace. He took one glance back to see that the Viscountess Mabel had left already. “Getting distracted, are we, Francis?” A voice spoke behind him, as the King emerged himself from the distracted crowds. Francis shuddered at the King’s ghastly figure, startled slightly. “Ah… that was nothing.” Francis scowled, slightly annoyed. “You are supposed to be looking for Duchess Helene of Flita. Not making a foolish attempt to flirt with a Viscountess. You should know that.” The King glared at Francis. Francis glared at the King back, with a cold, hard stare. “Why do you exactly want to murder Duchess Helene of Flita?! She is a witch, she may kill us by the second.” Francis hissed, his fists clenched, yet struggling not to lash out at his King.

“I know one thing for sure. Duchess Helene may be a witch, but she has regret, empathy, and guilt. I will not forgive her for what she has done… to my wife.” The King of Utopia muttered with a slight tone of bitterness and disgust laced in his voice. “Duchess Helene may feel regret, so if she really has a true heart, she will turn herself in as a witch, and shall be hung, drawn and quartered. I assume that… Ophelia was brutally murdered by Duchess Helene, so we have our strongest army of knights, cavalry and archers which will take down that cruel witch. She only has the ability to curse one person at a time, my dearest wife told me. She cannot take us all down. Not without a wound dug into her flesh.” The King scowled, muttering to himself.

“My wife had informed me that despite Helene being a witch, she is not as powerful as she thinks she is. I know that you can take her down, Francis. I want you to kill her. Kill her and anything else that tries to stop you from killing her.” The King of Utopia told the sergeant.

“Very well then.” Sergeant Francis replied. “Now, get on with what you are supposed to be doing. Don’t be off task. Do you understand?” The King snapped, his emotionless eyes glaring at his advisor. “... Yes. I understand.” Francis muttered, as they arrived at the palace, and took their separate ways within. “Oh, and make sure…” The King’s voice trailed off. “What?” Francis paused for a moment, glancing back at the King, who refused to look at him.

#short story #dark academia #creative writing #royalty #chapter 23

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legendarysaniyah · 1 year ago

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The Forgotten Tower [CHAPTER 22]

ʜɪᴋɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏʀᴇꜱᴛ

The crowd cheered in union, and considered this as the turning of a new leaf. However, it was still unclear of what Sergeant Francis Chamberlain was really up to.

It was later on, the skies were now darker as time had progressed, and the lost stars were flickering, distributed across the mass of the empty sky. Not so far from Utopia, was Princess Ophelia. She kneeled down onto the muddy plains, where she had felt as if she was in the middle of nowhere, stranded alone, or quite frankly, with her supposed relative, Duchess Helene. Ophelia sighed, her eyes pricking with tears, missing the feeling of being home.

Helene sat beside her, shuffling awkwardly next to her as she lit a fire, chanting what seemed like a foreign spell before a couple of sparks lit up from her fingertips, something Ophelia ignored, as she was used to seeing such severe witchcraft in front of her own eyes. “Do you think we’ve had enough time to rest?” Helene asks Ophelia, glancing at her for a few moments, still focusing on lighting a small fire, the dead leaves clasped in Helene’s hand setting on fire, as she gently places them onto a small pile of sticks, igniting the fire. “I suppose so.” Ophelia muttered, refusing to look at Helene, a sharp exhale escaping her lips. Helene turned to Ophelia for a moment, looking at her with a sympathetic expression. She carefully put her arm around Ophelia’s shoulder. “We’ll be at home before you know it.” Helene smiled reassuringly.

“Can’t you just... teleport us back?” Ophelia mumbled. “I can only teleport one person, and I know that it is not safe for you to be back at your own home. Things have happened, Ophelia. A lot of things, since you left.” Helene mumbled under her breath, her tone getting a little more frustrated as she said so. Ophelia sighed, her eyes tearing up as she thought about her mother, she wiped her eyes hastily, hoping that Helene didn’t realise she was getting so emotional already.

“We are going, aren’t we?” Helene looked at Ophelia, standing up as she placed the ignited remains into an oddly looking antique lantern that seemed as if it belonged in the tower which Ophelia had been imprisoned in for. She refused to question it, dragging the previous weapons, and food which she had kept within a piece of cloth, resembling some sort of bag, with her.

They continued walking through the salt marshes, still determined to find Utopia, to find the palace. The place that Ophelia called home. They continued to go on for miles on end, sometimes stopping for a few minutes. They paused for a few moments to look up at the night sky, seeing how little of a difference time has changed the atmosphere.

There was no sight of people as they walked through the forest. For Ophelia, this seemed extremely unfamiliar, especially not being able to see the bright, cheerful faces that once lit up the town, but she can’t remember if they are still like that after she left. The entire walk of the forest was in pure silence, not a word was said as they continued on through the forest, Ophelia wasn’t too keen on speaking to someone who had practically killed her best friend, and may as well be the reason for the supposed death of her mother.

Ophelia was lost in her thoughts; endless possibilities of what could happen next flooded her mind. Will she ever find Utopia again? Will she ever enter the comfort of her palace and see those still alive ever again? But most importantly, what would happen to Duchess Helene? Ophelia pondered, unsure of whether it’d be a good decision to snitch out on Duchess Helene, and accuse her of all the crimes she had caused the horrible amount of suffering given to Ophelia. Or would they already know about what she had done?

Ophelia turned to glare at Duchess Helene, who had a friendly smile, one of reassurance and comfort, one that Ophelia was still unable to trust. “Um... Helene.” Ophelia mumbled, denying that the woman should even be respected enough to be considered her aunt. “What’s going to happen to you… after we arrive at the palace?” Ophelia asked curiously, her eyes narrowing at thought, the atmosphere becoming suddenly quiet.

Helene simply glared at Ophelia, the smile faltering. “Well… I need to leave Utopia. Ophelia, as you know, I am not the most liked person in Utopia. I am unfortunately… wanted dead, there. I do not have such a good relationship with… your father. He swore that I shall never interfere with the palace again. But I did. And that I regret dearly.” Helene told Ophelia, who was carefully listening to every word that was spoken.

“Will I ever see you again?” Ophelia asked, her voice becoming slightly bitterer as she asked that, her tone unpleasant. Helene stared at her. “That’s up to you. After the death of your father… whenever that is… you will have the choice whether to take me out of exile me from Utopia.” She mumbled under her breath. “Please… let me go to Utopia when you are crowned the monarch…” She begs as her voice becomes quiet as she pleads. Ophelia’s expression changes, her face of concern changing to one of fury.

“Silence. You know what you’ve done to me. You’ve imprisoned me in this tower; I can’t really say that I do forgive you, despite you allowing me freedom from those little creations… those demons from hell that you’ve created.” Ophelia gritted her teeth, her fists tightening a little, her free hand gently and firmly placed over her sheath.

“I understand that, my darling Ophelia, however…” Helene’s sentence was cut off by the sharp exhale from Ophelia. “Listen to me; I do not forgive you for what you have done. But that doesn’t mean I despise you. Give me time to think about choosing such a risky decision such as this.” Ophelia spoke, more clearly, yet quickly.

“Very well then, Princess Ophelia.” Helene responded quietly. “We shall continue another mile or so, I suppose at that point, we should get some rest.” Helene spoke, looking at Ophelia who rubbed her eyes, extremely exhausted as she walked slumped, struggling to keep herself awake. They continued to walk through the forests, hoping to find the relief that was once wrongfully taken.

#short story #dark academia #creative writing #royalty #chapter 22

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legendarysaniyah · 1 year ago

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Sergeant Francis Chamberlain [LORE]

Sergeant Francis Chamberlain is a higher member of authority, who is an advisor, as well as a witch hunter for the King of Utopia despite being in the middle class sector.

He has been working as an advisor for the longest time serving Utopia.

Sergeant Francis does not like Duchess Helene, in fact, he desperately wants to kill her the moment she has been caught lurking in Utopia.

Sergeant Francis is considered as loyal, and very committed.

Since I haven’t written lore chapters in a while, I think writing one about this character will be very, very interesting, maybe you’ll learn a little bit more about how Francis Chamberlain became the King’s greatest advisor…

The young teenager sneakily tread past the guard’s blocking the entrance of the castle. There were dozens of people crowding around, seeing the King and Queen of Utopia wave elegantly as they sat outside on beautiful, botanical wooden carved chairs. Many citizens had the chance to talk to the monarchs, an overall peaceful atmosphere filling the areas of Utopia as it allowed others from all classes to bond with the monarchy.

Young Francis Chamberlain, however, didn’t really care, but snickered as he had successfully swerved through the crowds and past the guards, making it to the entrance of the Utopian Palace. He didn’t plan to go in, as he was afraid of getting caught, but he did decide to wonder around the entrance, slightly worried that one or both of the monarchs could notice him. The entrance was covered with neatly trimmed hedges, and flowers on either side. It looked a little similar to his garden, actually, but it only had one or two flowerbeds, something that the middle class such as himself could afford.

Since the graceful flowerbeds and hedges were covering the majority of the main entrance, as well as the strong steel gates in which was the way he came in through, he continued to admire the beauty of the plants. “I suppose this place could improve with a nice pathway, but maybe a little bit more security, the guards never even noticed my arrival!” Francis muttered to himself, laughing quietly at the end of his sentence.

The fifteen year old still continued to glance at the beauty of the entrance, admiring it, yet making some suggestions and improvements to himself. The King of Utopia smiled at the crowd, before exhaling sharply as he saw something in the corner of his eye, something, or in fact someone, was wandering around in the entrance of Utopia.

Francis sighed, sitting behind a hedge, leaning against it. He grabbed out his journal and began to sketch out the garden, implementing some of his own features and improvements to make the garden more high security, as well as prevention to witches. ‘I despise of those witches, one day; I want to be the person to stop them.’ Francis thought to himself, grinning as he imagined a graphic scene of burning witches at stake, making sure that no witch would be left alive to curse Utopia.

“Not too bad… you seem worthy enough.” Francis heard a voice behind him, as he jolted in surprise. He turned around quickly to see the King of Utopia, standing right beside him. Francis said nothing, too bewildered to speak. “Those are some interesting ideas you have.. what is this.. for the castle’s security?” The King of Utopia asked Francis, who quickly nodded, slightly embarrassed and worried. “What is your name, boy?” The King of Utopia asked, his expression neutral.

“..My name.. my name is Francis, Francis Chamberlain.” Francis muttered quickly. “You pique my interest, Francis. I want you to work for me.” The King told Francis, who was still in awe that the new King of Utopia was speaking to him. “I don’t want to work for you. I’m still taking classes for qualifications. I want to be an advisor or maybe a witch hunter, but I’m not ready yet.” Francis politely declined the King’s offer. The King of Utopia glared at him, slightly shocked that someone would refuse an offer like that, but he didn’t give up just yet.

“I can wait.” The King of Utopia simply responded. “..Sure you can!.. Maybe about 10 years?” Francis asked, still in disbelief. “Okay then. 10 years from now, and I expect you working here, alongside me. I want you to be my greatest advisor, Francis.” The King of Utopia grinned, before pausing for a moment, and continuing. “You also want to be a witch hunter, am I correct?” He asked the younger boy in front of him, who nodded more confidently. “..well, I can let that happen.” The King smiled brightly at Francis, before pulling out a beautiful, jewel encrusted dagger. Something that looked like it was worth hundreds, thousands or even millions.

“You’re giving this… to me?!” Francis exclaimed in astonishment. “As long as you promise you’ll be back in 10 years.” The King held his hand out, the dagger clutched loosely in his hand.

#short story #dark academia #creative writing #oc lore #royalty

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legendarysaniyah · 1 year ago

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The Forgotten Tower [CHAPTER 21]

ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ

“I am just as grateful to see you again. Now.. what is it that I can do for you?” The peculiar, yet threatening figure asked, his left hand beginning to latch onto the handle of his jewel- encrusted sword.

“Ophelia?” Helene called out, her voice echoing through the halls of the previous room. Ophelia glanced back frantically to see the founder of the voice, as Ophelia sighs in relief to see her aunt, Duchess Helene of Flita. Ophelia paused for a moment, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “Weren’t we supposed to see Dahlia? You did mention something about that.. didn’t you?” Ophelia glared at her, suspiciously. Helene’s expression remained unfazed, and neutral. “I did, but I do not think that you’d want to see a dead body, cut open and bleeding eternally!” Helene lightly laughed off the topic of death, which made Ophelia scrunch up her face in disgust. ‘If she wasn’t helping me, I would have killed her already’ Ophelia thought, her darkest ideas getting the better of her.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments, before Ophelia decided to speak again. “..so, what else is there to do now?” She asked, slightly curious. Helene smiled brightly at Ophelia, her face lighting up at an instant. “Oh.. we are going out of the tower, of course!” Helene beamed, which made Ophelia freeze up in confusion, yet astonishment. “Really?! We are leaving this place, once and for all?” Ophelia asked, still in disbelief as Helene laughed quietly, “Yes, and you can return back to your castle!” Helene smiled, slightly fading as she began to realise that Ophelia had noticed how Helene had replaced the word ‘parents’ with ‘castle’.

Helene grasped onto Ophelia’s hand once more, in reality this time, and as Helene muttered sacred words under her breath, a blinding flash of light entered their vision, just like the last thing Princess Ophelia had seen before being transported into the tower. And there they were, outside. Ophelia looked around in awe as she experienced the feeling of the warm heat from the late summer days, still being able to relish the breeze which maintained the welcoming atmosphere perfectly. It felt like she was home.

Well, almost. Ophelia and Helene had found themselves stranded in a forest, the atmosphere so familiar but the surrounds being so unknown. “Is this like.. a magical forest or something?” Ophelia asked curiously. Helene chuckled at Ophelia’s response, before replying to her. “No! Of course not! Don’t worry, we are very close to Utopia, and a little further away is where your grandmother was from, Flita.” Helene reassured Ophelia.

“We walk north, and continue going upwards. Utopia isn’t too far away; you’ll recognise it when you get around the corner.” Helene said, as the two of them began walking casually through the strands of vines and luscious vegetation scattered around them. Ophelia silently nodded, still lost in her thoughts about what would happen when she returns to the land of Utopia, a place which was once joyful when her presence was around, to seeing a completely different side of it as she returned. Ophelia sighed; she wouldn’t really be surprised if she saw Utopia in ruins already.

“I need you to start searching for Duchess Helene of Flita at this instant.” The King of Utopia ordered. The figure nodded silently, before walking off, expecting the King to follow him. The King of Utopia smirked at the advisor’s courage, but decided to follow him anyways. Surprisingly, the advisor knew where he was going, not afraid of the King’s intimidating, towering appearance whatsoever.

“..so, where are we going exactly?” The King of Utopia rolled his eyes, chuckling quietly. “We’re going to remind our people that Helene is around these areas once again, and we are going to get rid of her. That’s what you want right?” The advisor turned his head to look at the King, who stared at the advisor in curiosity. They continued to walk downstairs to open the palace doors, and the guards slowly followed behind, prepared to protect not only the King, but the advisor as well.

As the two of them walked through the village, multiple crowds gathered, at a reasonable distance of course, as well as the guards marching through, until the two of them gathered onto a wooden stage, the staple landmark of Utopia where the monarch would give their speeches, however, it wasn’t the monarch going to give the speech this time.

The crowds of the wealthier Utopian citizens had first priority, so they stood right at the front, as the guards stood on the side, making sure no harm could be attempted onto the two important people who stood confidently on the podium, but most importantly, the King of Utopia took a step back and stood his ground as the figure waited patiently for the crowd to gather up quite fast.

The figure cleared his throat, combing his very dark brown hair with his fingers for a moment. His empty, yet cold grey eyes were fixed onto the crowd. He adjusted his dark hellsing coat, his wine red buttoned shirt neatly matching his black breeches. He made sure to hide the jewel encrusted dagger, a gift that he had been given from the King of Utopia over a decade ago at a young age, probably worth far more than his own decent amount of fortune that he had worked for.

“I have gathered you today to bring up a serious topic.” The figure paused for a moment, exhaling shortly before continuing his speech. “Duchess Helene of Flita, the witch has cursed our King, once and for all! Look at him! Our most important monarch had been bewitched and cursed upon by a cruel witch!” He gestured at the King of Utopia, who had said nothing as the crowd gasped in shock, screamed or nearly fainted after seeing the monarch’s ruined sight from up close.

“We have to find Helene, and execute her for all of the crimes she has done, the witchcraft she had committed, and we will KILL any supporters of Helene, or helpers of witchcraft. I lost my younger sister.... all because of witchcraft, and I want to end it, once and for all.” He explained, struggling to mask the frustration and sadness of his loss in his voice, but maintaining his cold, mysterious expression.

The crowd muttered, some in agreement, but others in disagreement. The figure glanced at the crowd, some men were completely intimidated with his tall, mysterious self whom people had never seen before, and some women were completely love struck by his appearance. He sighed, unsatisfied with the audience’s crowded response, but still remained patient and silent until the crowd finally responded.

The crowd stared at him, mixed expressions varied throughout the crowd. No one dared to speak despite the puzzled expressions on each and every one of their faces. “So, who are you to us anyways?” One of the crowd members asked, almost mocking his presence, denying his powerful authority, which they were very, very wrong about that.

“I am Sergeant Francis Chamberlain, the most important advisor serving our King. I have been most responsible for controlling the majority of Utopia’s laws, as well as being the longest serving advisor so far. Not only am I an advisor, but I am a witch hunter. I find it truly unacceptable to see evil and wrongdoing in our nation, so it is only right if there are repercussions and justice served to those who go against our monarch, as well as the right to deny power of authority, regardless of what class one may be in.” Sergeant Francis declared confidently, smirking as he felt his own power being reflected against the crowd, who were now shocked and significantly more obedient to his demands and speeches after finding out that he really was.

“But that doesn’t matter, does it? We look for Duchess Helene of Flita, find her, dead or alive. Together, Utopia citizens of all class must work together as a team and we will end the cruel reign of Duchess Helene.” Francis commanded.

The crowd cheered in union, and considered this as the turning of a new leaf. However, it was still unclear of what Sergeant Francis Chamberlain was really up to.

#short story #dark academia #creative writing #royalty #chapter 21

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legendarysaniyah · 2 years ago

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The Forgotten Tower [CHAPTER 20]

ɢʀᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴜꜱᴘɪᴄɪᴏɴ

Ophelia turned forward, ignoring it, yet glad that she acknowledged why she was in the tower, and she knew what really happened to her parents

——

The King of Utopia sighed as he tossed aside one of his most treasured passages of a foreign book, titled, Daemonologie. “There are too many, too many of them. I need to stop them. That witch, Helene, has done enough to bewitch me, look what I have become. Look at it.” He spoke to himself in his bedroom, facing his newly replaced mirror before shattering it to pieces as he glared at his own reflection. To himself, he could agree that he looked absolutely hideous, Helene, the one connected with witchcraft had ruined his appearance. His limbs were thinner, and thinner, to the point of being unnaturally thin as his clothes become too oversized for himself. He had dark eye bags, smudged underneath his inhumane pale skin. Even his own irises were fading in colour, what used to be a dark brown began to turn into a pure white.

In only a few moments, a quiet knock was placed on his door. “Who is it?” he asked, his voice becoming more powerless and exhausted by the day which had gone by. “It is only me, Queen Marigold of Orilon. I was going to ask you if you knew where…” Queen Orilon’s words were cut off instantly as she opened the door, her eyes darkening after the distorted figure in front of her. “…Prince Sebastian was…” she muttered under her breath as she looked up to see a taller, distorted humanoid. “Oh my goodness, what has happened to you?! You seem ever so deathly ill, and pale!” The Queen of Orilon exclaimed, extremely bewildered as she struggled to mask her fear and shock.

“The witches, they have come upon me once more… That evil soul, Duchess Helene of Flita, my beautiful wife’s sister. She is pure evil, and is only to do with witchcraft. She had visited me in my chambers only recently, and had made me hideous! She believes that I am the only reason to cause suffering to my wife.” He cried in frustration, his eyes narrowing and his tone beginning to hesitate just before he finished speaking.

The Queen of Orilon initially squinted her eyes in suspicion, and took one step back, yet she tried to mask the disgust and shock from seeing such an unnatural sight. “..Well… We shall find her at once; maybe you should try asking your advisors for what to do? I’m sure they could help you, right?” She politely suggested. “..Yes... I hope so.” He sighed, before the two of them walked out of the room, as the Queen turned to look at him, hesitating to avoid eye contact, before asking. “Do you know where Sebastian has gone?” She asked, slightly suspicious. The King paused for a moment, saying absolutely nothing before glaring at her with a cold stare. “No, I haven’t seen him around recently.” He simply responded no tone and emotion in his voice.

The Queen of Orilon simply said nothing, walking by the servants, as she carefully observed their facial expressions, each of them seeming slightly nervous, or concerned as she walked beside the King, before he turned away, walking further down the hallway. She turned to face him. “Where are you going?” She asked curiously. “I’m just going to find my advisors; your advice seemed very helpful. Thank you for that.” The King responded, a fake smile etched upon his face as he struggled to maintain his mask of emotions.

The King of Utopia walked down one of the isolated hallways, before proceeding to go down the obsidian coloured, dark, spiral stairs. He took one last glance to see if there was anyone following him, before he proceeded down the stairs. Opening the antique, wooden door, he turned the key in the lock, unlocking it with a click before closing it behind him.

“Well, if it isn’t my most honourable suitor!” The King of Utopia falsely exclaimed, grinning sinisterly. Prince Sebastian was there, suspended in a metal cage, the frantic rattling of the cage breaking the silence. Prince Sebastian said absolutely nothing, glaring at the King with an enraged, yet menacing stare. His eyes were almost bloodshot red, his hands red and sore from grasping onto the metal bars for too long. He simply said nothing, other than a few words. “They will find out what you’ve done.” he spoke, almost in a threatening manner, despite being trapped and concealed in an extremely claustrophobic cage.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” The King of Utopia chuckled. “When I find Ophelia, you WILL get married to her, no matter WHAT.” He yelled, a darkened shadow on his expression, before turning and leaving, walking up the stairs again. Unfortunately for him, the door was still left wide open, the King’s worries being left behind.

It was only a few moments later until the King walked away from the hallway and into the dining hall, where he had asked to meet his most trusted, valuable suitor. He opened the grand doors of the dining room, before closing them again. He looked around the room, which was empty and cleared, and he sat at the most important seat of all, facing directly to the seat which the advisor was supposed to arrive at.

The Queen of Orilon, on the other hand, took this opportunity at its finest, and quickly hurried towards the hallway in which the King of Utopia had walked away from. She hurried frantically down the spiral stairs, cautiously yet curiously before seeing the door left wide open. She did not expect to see her son suspended in the air, concealed by a small, narrow cage. “Mother!” Prince Sebastian cried, outstretching his hand through the narrow metal bars of the cage. The Queen of Orilon simply stared in horror. “I will get you out of here, I promise. And I will make sure the King of Utopia is never to be seen in our lives, ever again.” She promised, scowling at the thought of the King doing such a cruel act towards her son, as she had put so much trust into Utopia’s monarchs and nobles. “I’ll be back. And the next time you see me, you’ll be out of this disgraceful place once and for all.” She stated, glaring into her son’s eyes once more before leaving, and making sure to remove the lock off, so she could enter once again.

The grand doors to the dining hall opened. A tall, slim male wearing a dark hellsing coat, with a threatening sword attached onto his leather bag entered the room, and sat on the far opposite seat, directly opposite the King of Utopia.

“I’m so glad I could bring you back once more, my dearest friend!” The King of Utopia exclaimed, a darkened smirk etched across his face.

#short story #dark academia #creative writing #royalty #chapter 20

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legendarysaniyah · 2 years ago

Text

The Forgotten Tower [CHAPTER 19]

ᴏɴᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ

TW: Gore, Violence

She had decided to conclude to go straight through the middle, as she had already gone both ways, left and right, throughout her journey, and it seemed more distinct to follow a pathway directly in the centre.

——

It seemed so peculiar to walk through a row of mirrors, as Ophelia cringed in disgust whenever her eyes met her reflection’s. ‘Where was Helene? And why hasn’t she found me yet?’ Ophelia wondered, slightly suspicious that Helene could be betraying her. Ophelia felt awkward as she heard the unsettling sound of her own footsteps echoing, and nothing else other than her quiet breathing, to which she was trembling in fear.

“Helene?” Ophelia called out helplessly, as she became eventually frustrated, impatiently walking around and continuing her journey as she leaned onto the mirrors, absolutely exhausted. In response, however, was just the sound of unsettling silence. ‘I was brought back from the dead only to be lost in this… peculiar labyrinth of mirrors.’ Ophelia gestured her hands around her, almost as if she was explaining her complaints to someone.

Ophelia continued to walk, sometimes frantically glancing at the mirrors; being extremely cautious to see if there was something other than her reflection glaring at her. “Nothing can kill me now! Helene is on MY side!” Ophelia spoke to herself, extremely confident and proud, pretending to swing her already blood-stained sword around recklessly, almost ruining the rows of organised mirrors.

Ophelia observed the scenery around her in awe. It looked so modern, and so peaceful. It was as if the mirrors were emitting an indigo hue, some sort of luminous glow around each individual border of the mirror. The narrow floor space was checkered, like a chessboard. It wasn’t a dim area, in fact brighter than the castle that she used to be in. Ophelia sighed to herself, ‘I dearly miss my parents.’ She thought.

Ophelia stopped at a dead end. “Great.” Ophelia hissed in anger, her fists clenched as she threw her sword to the ground with a clatter in frustration. She glared at her reflection in the final mirror blocking her path. ‘I look so different…’ Ophelia thought to herself. Ophelia’s silky, violet gown was torn and bruised by the terrors and tragedies of the tower, whilst her puffy white sleeves were torn and stained with blood from the sharp cut of the fallen stars.

And it was then when all of a sudden the indigo hues of light seeping through the borders of the mirrors became more stronger, growing in brightness and a significant amount of power. Until it suddenly extinguished itself like a flame, wisps of smoke emitting from the borders of the mirror, the room dimmed immediately. Ophelia stared in bewilderment, her fingertips constantly prodding the gaps in between the borders, assuming that there would be a feeling of heat, but instead the smoke felt as cold as ice.

“I can’t do this anymore.” A single voice sobbed.

Ophelia froze in bewilderment. “Is there someone there?? Where are you?” Ophelia had asked, frantically looking around for the source of the sound. “My daughter Ophelia must be dead.” The voice replied, still sobbing hysterically, ignoring Ophelia’s words. It didn’t take Ophelia a long time to realise who was speaking. “Mother?? Where are you?!” Ophelia cried, her hands pounding onto the mirrors, trying to break them, as if the sound was coming from behind them.

Ophelia still glanced around frantically, before looking at the mirror in front of her. The dead end. And as she looked at the mirror, she realised that the reflection was no longer her own. It was Ophelia’s mother, or had it looked very similar to her own mother, calling out to Ophelia. Except that she seemed very, very off.

Ophelia’s mother remained perfectly still, her wounded hands eventually moving in the slightest as Ophelia’s mother turned around, constantly calling for Ophelia. Her mother’s rose pink and cream laced gown remained mostly in the same condition, other than the noticeable large tear through her torso, blood stained heavily over it, and the majority of blood pouring out of her slightly rotting flesh, the crimson red liquid still remaining to spill out. Bluebottles and greenflies were hovering around her mother, swarming her like a furious swarm of hornets.

The most noticeable thing, however, was how her neck was dented with what looked like rope marks, some areas of her flesh darkened and stained with cuts from her collarbone and above. And not to mention how almost all of her mother’s face was hastily and violently torn off, or even eaten off, making a large dent in her face. There was less blood that spilled from her lower jaw. It horrified Ophelia every time as she saw her mother’s eaten off jaw move in the slightest way whenever her mother called for Ophelia, her mother’s torn and damaged facial muscles occasionally twitching in the slightest.

“What happened?!” Ophelia yelled, furiously, she felt on the verge of tears as she tried to outstretch her hand to the mirror, where her mother’s reflection was. “Why?!” She cried in agony, before the reflection faded, matching her own again. Her legs sunk two the ground, almost immediately as she cried, her sword laid limp beside Ophelia on the ground, already forgotten as all she cared about was her parents.

“Whether Ophelia is here or not, this will all go according to plan.” Another voice stated, with no expression in their tone.

As Ophelia frantically wiped her eyes, her face stained with tears, she looked to see another reflection. But she couldn’t recognise them in any way at all. Could this be a creature she may had passed in the tower? The reflection was tall, very pale and unnaturally skinny with long, sharp fingernails, as the mysterious figure wore a torn and faded blue waistcoat, embroidered with golden pins and badges on the shoulders, as well as a black and gold belt, tightened in the most extreme way, which still hung slightly loose around its side, supported by its withered, faded dark trousers. It seemed almost too familiar to Ophelia, until she glanced up at the figure and saw a tilted, gold crown.

The reflection suddenly became more clear, resembling Ophelia’s father, the King of Utopia, who had sunken eyes, and blood stained all over his face, the two daggers gripped loosely in the clutches of both of his long arms hung lazily by his side. The King of Utopia seemed very different, but Ophelia tried to observe his expression, struggling to interlock eyes with a figure that seemed too familiar to her father. She glared at him, still trying to mask her shock but her father’s eyes never glanced back.

The mirror suddenly went misty and dark again before displaying Ophelia’s reflection. She went silent for a few seconds, tears beginning to trickle down her face. Weakly, Ophelia placed her palm onto the mirror, desperately trying to reopen her eyes to meet another’s face that wasn’t her own. “Come back, I need to see once more.” She mumbled, sniffling as she wiped her eyes elegantly with her torn sleeve. And there was nothing new as she opened her eyes.

Her palm lay weakened against the mirror, Ophelia glaring at her own reflection with tears brimming in her eyes. Her gaze landed on her palm, which seemed slightly peculiar to her. ‘Why does it seem like the reflection of my palm is so close to the mirror?’ She wondered, slightly distracted by her own thoughts. ‘What if it was a one way mirror?’ She pondered, placing her fingertips on the mirror, observing them carefully and closely from multiple angles. Her fingertips seemed oddly too close to the mirror, leaving no gap. “And so it was.” Ophelia muttered, astonished.

She bent down exhausted and gripped onto her sword on the tiles, both hands gripped tightly on the handle as she lifted it in the air, exhaled slowly once more and struck her blade towards the mirror.

CRASH!

Ophelia leapt backwards in shock, quickly covering her face with both of her arms to avoid the shards of mirrors that flew rapidly, scattering onto the floor. The indigo hue that emitted from the borders of the mirrors reappeared and flickered violently, making it slightly more difficult and confusing when Ophelia continuously swung her sword at the mirror, hoping for a new result. There was a visible crack in the mirror, some pieces revealing an open way to walk through. But it wasn’t enough. Again, and again, Ophelia struck the sharp and heavy sword through the centre of the mirror, a result of damage to the mirror every single time, and she didn’t stop until there was barely of the mirror still clinging onto the borders.

Ophelia then placed her sword beside her, inserting it in the decorated, yet worn sheath. Ophelia walked through the now open entrance, being cautious of some of the shards that still remained in place. Surprisingly, it looked very, very different from anything else she had seen in the tower. The area seemed deserted, just like the previous room, however, when Ophelia turned back to glance at the modern style mirror maze she had just wandered through, she now looked at the new room she was in, which seemed more unclear, something which looked familiar, but only by a bit.

The new room had dark, teal coloured walls and flooring consisting of ancient and possibly precious stone. It smelled of something peculiar, yet familiar, very similar to the faint salt water mist near the coast of Utopia. The room seemed a lot bigger than the previous one, but she could be wrong, as Ophelia hadn’t looked through the whole maze, somehow being lucky enough to follow the correct path. There were various torches hung around the room, shining a light turquoise, almost white coloured flame. There were dull, teal pillars placed evenly around the room, filling every gap in every corner. However, there was a very noticeable rectangular gap, which looked very deep, so she decided she was going to avoid that. Ophelia did notice a set of stairs leading downwards, built into the large gap. And since there was only one way,

It looked almost eerie seeing a huge rectangular hole in the middle, but it became clear as soon as Ophelia felt a bath of water below her. She nervously grabbed onto the rails of the stairwell, holding it tightly. Ophelia looked down into the pool of the crystal clear water, observing what was beneath the surface. She blinked twice, extremely confused as she peered through, crouching onto her knees to get a closer look as she tried to observe it further. Ophelia sighed in frustration, trying to pick up her long, elegant gown to more it further away from her. As she was doing that, she suddenly felt a strong force grip onto her, and plunge her into the water.

She felt herself being pulled further and further down, as Ophelia tried to grab onto something so she could haul herself out of the water, frantically moving her arms, yet the weight of the water preventing her from doing so. Until it suddenly stopped, the fading noise of something else moving away through the water. Ophelia struggled to swim back to the surface, just barely making it as her head rose from the water, gasping for air. Before deciding to do anything just yet, Ophelia quickly placed her weapons and food which was drenched in water away from the pool, before deciding to dive in to discover what, or who pulled her into the water.

As Ophelia looked down into the water, Ophelia looked around observing every single sight in astonishment. The pool itself seemed as if it was beyond 30 metres deep. There were a few sunken pieces of polished teal quartz beneath the surface, as well as pieces of seaweed and coral reef emerging from the cracks of the stone. One thing that Ophelia found very peculiar is that there was a house submerged in the water, completely the same colour and made out of the ancient stone, yet empty looking as Ophelia swam further beneath the swimming pool.

Ophelia felt the same force pulling her down yet again, which felt stronger than gravity pulling her down as Ophelia flailed her arms, trying to swim upwards again, before turning her head to see a slightly humanoid female figure, with odd mutations such as a tail, and gills naturally formed on both sides of the figure’s throat. It all seemed to familiar before Ophelia realised exactly what it was. A mermaid. But this mermaid was very, very hostile, and looked completely hideous. Ophelia had despised of mermaids, believing that they were related to pure evil.

Ophelia’s words being incoherent towards the mermaid as she realised she was underwater, and in fact sinking as the mermaid’s strong grip on her gown submerged her beneath the surface. Ophelia tried to kick the mermaid, before realising it was no use. Ophelia began to frantically turn and use her arms to throw a punch the mermaid, however it didn’t do much use either, and the water was heavily draining her strength and energy. Ophelia did manage to grasp onto one of the stone hooks hanging onto the side before using that to pull upwards as the strong force suddenly subsided. Ophelia managing to pull herself back onto the surface.

Ophelia’s strong grudge towards the mermaid did frustrate her, and she wanted to put an end to it. She quickly grabbed the sheath of the sword, patiently waiting before feeling the powerful grip on the ends of her violet coloured gown. This time, Ophelia felt prepared. The mermaid with its pale skin and ginger braided hair tugged onto Ophelia’s gown, this time not stopping, however, the mermaid was not prepared the moment she saw Ophelia’s hands gripping onto the long engraved and worn metallic sheath before Ophelia swung it at the mermaid’s head, with all her strength. The mermaid drifted backwards after being struck, trying to retreat below to the lower depths of the pool before Ophelia struck the mermaid directly in the skull again, and again.

The mermaid finally let go and Ophelia swam up to the top, trying to grab onto the railings as she pulled herself back to the surface, noticing there was a strong white glow emitting from a reopened entrance emerged from the stone walls. She quickly grabbed onto the sword, which she put back into her sheath, as well as the bag of food which she carried by her side. Ophelia shivered from the cold water she was plunged into, so she swiftly walked towards the door before turning back one time to look at the scenery, noticing that there was now a body that had floated to the surface in the pool. Ophelia turned forward, ignoring it, yet glad that she acknowledged why she was in the tower, and she knew what really happened to her parents.

#short story #dark academia #creative writing #royalty #chapter 19

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legendarysaniyah · 2 years ago

Text

The Forgotten Tower [CHAPTER 18]

ᴜᴘʟɪꜰᴛᴇᴅ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ

“Please, take him away.” The King of Utopia spoke.

“And keep him out of sight.”

——

Helene abruptly let go of Ophelia’s hand, as Ophelia glared at Duchess Helene in confusion, and suspicion. “Oh! Sometimes, even beings such as myself may forget about the difference between reality, and mind control.” She laughed. Ophelia paused for a moment, struggling to comprehend those exact words, before responding. “Sorry?” Ophelia said, struggling to mask the hint of nervousness in her tone of voice.

“May we see.. Dahlia? I believed that was what you were doing.” Ophelia spoke. “Pray no!” Helene chuckled, until her gaze landed onto Ophelia’s worried expression. “This isn’t real, Ophelia. I do not wish to rush you, but make haste, I do not wish for you to die just yet.” Helene informed Ophelia.

“To die?! Why would I die?!” Ophelia gasped in disbelief, her body beginning to tremble as she began to panic, her nervousness overwhelming her. “The fall, Ophelia. You fell down from the scale. I have transported you elsewhere in the tower, I shall assist you as soon as possible in reality when you have become conscious again.” Helene reassured Ophelia. Ophelia frantically nodded, still bewildered by what she was hearing.

Ophelia had immediately began to feel herself losing consciousness, if that was even possible in something which isn’t labelled as the familiar reality she surrounded herself in throughout her life.

“And do not be concerned about your physical self. You may have a few injuries, but it should not affect you severely.” Helene had informed Ophelia, luckily in time, as that was the last thing Ophelia could acknowledge before her vision had faded.

And there she had awoken from the suspense of enternal rest, just before it had swallowed her soul.

Ophelia had bolted upwards suddenly in bewilderment. She was alive. But she wasn’t where she was before. As Helene had informed her previously, she was in the tower, but clearly somewhere else. The familiar sight of the damp, cold stone walls were there once again, along with the mahogany carpet, neatly organised in the room.

She paused for a moment, still struggling to acknowledge her surroundings in silence, the torches hung up on the wall, flickering and flaring quietly, the faraway sound of rhythmic footsteps, possibly belonging to the guards that protected the tower, and the sound of silence. As well as the quiet dripping noise, and the squelch of a damp surface as Ophelia shifted slightly. Ophelia froze, shivering in disgust before deciding to glance down at the origin of the sound.

On Ophelia’s gown was smeared with blood, which seemed recent, however, there was no injury when Ophelia had checked for herself. She scowled in disgust, shuddering at the same image before getting up, and continuing her journey to the end of the hallway. What did it mean that Ophelia could see Dahlia? ‘Was it too late to go back to her?’ Ophelia pondered to herself, sighing in disappointment as she acknowledged the loss of her deceased friend.

Just then, Ophelia had come to the realisation, after fully becoming aware of her surroundings. ‘Would I have died if Helene hadn’t spared my life?’ She thought to herself for a moment. ‘My family have probably already forgotten me already. If so, I could have been saved ages ago…’

As Ophelia had reached the end of the hallway, and had opened the door, She glared at what looked like a dead end, until she stepped into the next room to see a variety of symmetrical mirrors, places all around in various directions, almost creating different pathways, as if it was a like a labyrinth, other than the tower that she had been trapped in for what felt like ages.

She stared blankly at the mirrors stood in front of her for a moment, as she glared at her own reflection, which had looked quite different to what she could remember previously, as she now had blood smeared onto her graceful gown, and most importantly, her own hands were drenched in the blood of peculiar creatures she had slaughtered, even though they were shielded by the silk gloves that she wore.

Unfortunately, Ophelia didn’t realise the door shutting behind her, with a slam. ‘I’m certain that wouldn’t be a major problem. Helene would save me anyways.’ Ophelia reassured herself, placing her palms onto the mirror to see if there was a pathway.

And there were multiple pathways, three of them, to be exact. All made out of mirrors, repeating in a perfectly straight line. It was uncertain to tell what was at the end of them, but it was most likely there would be more than one direction to turn.

Ophelia had froze. Pressure weighing onto her as she felt sweat beads cascading down her face. Could one of these pathways lead to a certain death? In the tower, as she had been so familiar to, nowhere is safe, and almost no one could be trusted.

#short story #dark academia #creative writing #royalty #chapter 18

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legendarysaniyah · 2 years ago

Text

The Forgotten Tower [CHAPTER 17]

ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜱɪɢʜᴛ

It took one more powerful cut before the servant finally fell silent, and fell limp, stopping all movement only a second before his death.

——

As the King woke up, he groaned in pain, realising that something felt different than usual. Very different. He sighed in frustration as his head accidentally hit the front frame of the majestic canopy bed. It seemed quite peculiar to him, as such minor mistake had never occurred once in his life. As he got up, he had yet again hit the roof of the canopy bed. ‘This must be bad luck’ The King of Utopia thought, before the first thing his vision lands on is the mirror. And he is very sure that he looks slightly different.

The King smiled triumphantly, he had become taller and significantly slimmer, as he realised it was from the ‘curse’. How would he explain these peculiar changes to the Orilon family, though? He ignored that thought as he got ready for the day, having to secure a belt to tighten his now, oversized clothes.

A servant walked in, still with an expression of nervousness from the previous day. “Your tea, my king.” The servant bowed out of respect, as the servant presented the engraved silver tray held steadily in the servant’s hands. The King of Utopia snatched the silver tray off the fearful servant, a very quiet cracking noise emitting from the reflective tray as he grasped it tightly in his hands, not being cautious at all. The servant immediately left the room, shutting the door quickly and footsteps trailing off frantically. The King of Utopia sighs in annoyance and grabs the delicately painted, fragile porcelain cup as he was about to drink his tea, before the handle cup suddenly breaks off and clatters onto the tray.

The King rapidly grasps the handleless cup with his both hands frantically, and just as he manages to catch it, his fists instantly crush the cup, expensive porcelain pieces shattering immediately, and the scorching hot tea spilling onto his hands. He cried in both anger and pain, as he leapt off the bed, the other items falling immediately onto the floor as he throws his palms onto the bedcovers, a clattering noise and the splintering of wood sounding from the bed as he had seem to break it. Is this really the power he had gained from consuming so less?

He glanced around in confusion, before grasping onto the strong steel pillar holding the roof of the canopy bed upwards and exhaling sharply. ‘I need to see if I really have this much power.’ The King ponders before twisting his hands, which were held onto the pillars in outwards, which suddenly breaks almost effortlessly. The roof of the canopy bed falls downwards, still being held up by the other three steel pillars as it hangs off lifelessly from one side.

“Yes, I would like to see Dahlia.” Ophelia replied quietly, her voice shaking in sadness as she speaks. “Alright, grab my hand and you shall see for yourself.” Helene spoke before her hands begin to glow a luminous gold colour, vibrantly radiating through her veins.

“Can you revive her in any possible way?” Ophelia mumbled. “No. I’m afraid not, dear Ophelia.” Helene responded, her voice unwavering and her face with a dull expression. Ophelia narrowed her eyes, slightly confused and suspicious.

The King had declared that he was to visit all areas in Utopia, and send his finest guards along with him to “execute” the criminals of the area, to make it safer for people.

As the guards had burst through the King’s chamber doors to discover what had really caused such distress and loud noise, they were also informed about what had happened with the other servant beforehand. “Oh.” One of the guards mumbled, slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t realise you were testing your own strengths, sir.” The guard apologised hastily. “Yes, I was. Now, ask some of the servants to clean up this mess.” The King commanded.

“Oh, uh.. as you were saying, your majesty. Do you need us to escort you into the… peasant areas of Utopia to ‘execute’ any of the criminals there?” Another guard asked quietly. “Oh, how kind of you for asking!” The King exclaimed joyfully.

“I’ll need you to escort me, of course, but unfortunately I’m not going to allow you to execute them. Rest assured, I’ll let our finest palace chefs do that job instead..” The King spoke, almost sounding sinister in his tone of voice.

The nervous guards immediately saluted the King, before exiting the room rapidly in an orderly fashion. The King of Utopia also decided to follow them, however decided to make a turn towards one of the other chambers.

‘Queen Marigold of Orilon’ The gold engraved sign hung elegantly, fixed upon the dark, wooden doors.

The King had entered the room, refusing to knock, as he was too exhausted to. The Queen immediately turned around, her rose coloured dress dragging along the floor as she turned around. “Ah, greetings, your majesty. Is there an issue?” The Queen asked. “No, of course not! I’m was going to ask you to join us for a great breakfast downstairs, and maybe you could visit the areas of Utopia with the nobility, I am quite sure you would enjoy visiting the younger children who have dearly looked up to you and have been excited to see you for a while now! They have asked me almost everyday when I have went outside, even yesterday, and the day before. ‘Where is the Queen of Orlion?’ They ask me, and I always tell them that you are around the palace areas, you certainly wouldn’t mind visiting those areas of Utopia to visit the young, sprightly children of the nobility today, would you?”

The Queen of Orilon smiled, “How delightful, I shall be overjoyed to meet these young souls, whom are ever so kind and supportive towards us. Should I bring my son, Prince Sebastian, along as well?” She asked. The King of Utopia hesitated for a moment, slightly nervous. “I’m afraid not. We have prepared something for your son, mostly consisting of a valuable gift just for him, and some events shall take place in private for the rest of the day. Don’t worry though, you won’t miss the most important ones!” The King replied, somewhat nervous, and sounding slightly off, but the Queen of Orilon saw genuine words within him. “That’s sorted then! I shall go downstairs to have breakfast in the dining hall, you are joining us, aren’t you?” The Queen of Orilon asked. “Yes, I shall! Now, let’s go downstairs.” The King grinned, as he wiped a bead of sweat trickling down his face.

The King sighed in relief as he walked down the staircase, glancing at his worn boots, which were awkwardly placed along the side of the storage cabinet for shoes, gathering dust, thankfully, The Queen of Orilon hadn’t noticed.

The breakfast was laid on the dark, polished table, multiple loafs of bread, butter and a variety of fruit placed neatly on the table, which was almost tilting over slightly due to the amount of pressure placed onto it. Everyone else was eating, including only a few of the servants, whom the king had kindly asked to join him, there was a lot of space on in the dining room anyways. More than there was before.

As the Queen of Orilon opened the beautiful palace doors, consisting of crystal and pale quartz, she saw the beautiful, scorching sun shining above her, and the fresh, pale sage grass below her, neatly trimmed and organised next to the gorgeous vibrant variety of flowers blooming next to the entrance, like a candle, it lit up the palace entrance. She walked slowly away from the palace, still starstruck with the scenery around her, before slowly, she had left the palace.

The doors of the palace had shut with a loud slam, the echoing of a thundering sound throughout the hallways.

“Prince Sebastian!” The King of Utopia called cheerfully. “I would like to speak to you privately, but for now, you should follow me, I do know somewhere more reserved for us to discuss.” He said. Prince Sebastian followed politely, without saying a word. He was slightly unsure of what he would say, however he felt slightly suspicious after he heard rhythmic, metal clattering of what resembles footsteps across the palace floors.

The two had walked down the spiral staircase, going further and further downwards before they halt abruptly, up to a door, which the King gladly opens for Prince Sebastian. They still continue to walk down the unfamiliar, and slightly disturbing room, dimly lit with torches, the fire immediately flaring with fury, yet still obedient to be kept within its wooden stake. The metal clattering felt so far as the two went away, but kept following them almost, becoming closer, and louder.

The two of them stopped. Prince Sebastian faced his back towards the door, and the King of Utopia faced towards Prince Sebastian. The silence was very tense, the clattering sound becoming extremely loud, and almost unbearable, until it stopped. It felt so close to them, too close.

The King of Utopia glares at Prince Sebastian.

“ Did you ever want to marry my dearest daughter, Princess Ophelia? “

“..well, I wouldn’t have minded, however, she said she didn’t want to get married, so… I suppose I do not want to get married to someone who does not want to get married to me, especially if she never agreed to even have me as her suitor in the first place.” Prince Sebastian responded, nervously.

The King’s emotionless expression faded, as his mouth curved into a frown. He looked furious, his fists clenched and shaking in fury. He had said not a single word. Prince Sebastian felt extremely nervous, and as soon as the prince stepped backward, the King of Utopia swung his fist at Prince Sebastian, which had struck him in the ribs. Prince Sebastian cried in agony as he fell backwards a few steps away, his teeth clenched, as he stumbled and struggled to get up.

“Guards. Capture him, throw him in the dungeons, and do NOT speak a word to anyone.” The King of Utopia commanded.

Prince Sebastian’s eyes widened, his expression in pure shock as he realised. The metal clattering noises, the makeshift footsteps finally becoming clear. He closed his eyes as the door burst open instantly, the door almost breaking as one of the metal, rusted hinges had lost grip connected towards the wall. “NO!.. YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” Prince Sebastian yelled in almost agony and anger, flailing his arms as he tried to punch the air and kicking his legs frantically in order to break loose of the guard’s grip.

“Please, take him away.” The King of Utopia spoke.

“And keep him out of sight.”

#short story #dark academia #creative writing #royalty #chapter 17

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legendarysaniyah · 2 years ago

Text

The Forgotten Tower [CHAPTER 16]

ᴀ ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴇᴀꜱᴛ

TW: Gore

That was all he could think of now. He began to pull out her organs aggressively as he continuously tore her flesh, sometimes creating a disgusting tearing noise like paper, even though she was dead anyways, it would count, right?…

——

As the king continued to hastily eat the remains of his already deceased, beloved wife, crimson red blood smothered over his hands, before the door suddenly opened with a creak. One of the king’s servants had walked into the room accidentally, slightly lost throughout the palace rooms. The servant gasped in shock and fear as he saw his own king turn around with a cold stare. “Your majesty! I did not mean to intrude at such a time like th-“ The servant panicked, before being interrupted so suddenly.

“Do NOT tell anyone that you saw this.” The King of Utopia commanded. The servant’s face was full of concern and pure fear as they both stood there, eyes interlocked in an uncomfortable silence. It took a few moments, before the king sighed and as he was about to make the slightest of movement, the servant panicked immediately. “Yes, your majesty! I will keep my word!” The servant replied, sweating nervously as he stepped backwards, his hand grasped onto the door knob.

“Good. Now leave at once.” The King of Utopia instantly commanded.

“I must prepare you, Ophelia.” Helene said, sadly before handing Ophelia a sword as they both walked down through the vibrant forest, the sun blazing bright, and the crystal clear river flowing nearby. “Prepare me? For what?” Ophelia asked, curiously. There was no answer from Helene as they continued to walk down the cracked, stone pathway.

There was silence for a while, before Ophelia exhaled nervously and asked, “There were other people in the tower. Why were they there as well?” Ophelia mumbled. Helene stared at Ophelia, examining her bloodshot eyes from crying over the loss over Ophelia’s dearest friend, and the worn bandage around her arm which had been given by Dahlia. “After the word from your father was spread, as he had viciously accused me of being a witch, people knew about me, they had given me horrible looks, and comments that had truly offended me, even threats, if you wanted to know. A few of those you met, trapped in the tower had cruel parents who had said and done such vile action to me. I had to take their beloved child away, to teach them a mere lesson, however, that didn’t end well..” Helene responded. “I regret it, I really do.” She sighed. Ophelia listened in sorrow as she pondered to herself. Is her so called aunt really a kind person at heart? Or was she a vicious witch, both inside and out?

The terrified servant ran, he ran faster than he ever could up the spiral stairs. Clattering sounds of his footsteps as he ran in fear and panic. “HELP! Someone! The king has gone mad!!” The servant cried in fear. The other servants doing their designated jobs paused for a moment as they turned around, extremely calm. “What troubles you at such a time like this? Repent at once, you do not challenge our king!” One of the servants yelled at the other.

“You don’t understand… he was eating our Queen’s deceased body! With his HANDS, I tell you, his BARE HANDS!” The servant cried, cowering in fear. A mix of angered, confused and concerned muttering filled the atmosphere. All of the chattering fell silent immediately as they heard footsteps, leading to a horrific sight they thought they would never see. The king stood there, a furious expression on his face, and blood smeared all over his face, as well as his fists, almost like it was painted a bright crimson red, dripping with blood. He looked a lot more terrifying, as his eyes were darkened, an emotionless expression reflecting in his eyes.

Some of the servants gasped in shock, some screamed in fear, and one of the servants even fainted at the horrific sight of it. There was just silence.

“You liar, you betray me, your own KING?!” The King of Utopia yelled, furious. “I demand him to be boiled to death, sliced and cut into pieces, and SERVED at tonight’s feast.” He scowled at the servants, demanding them to follow his orders. In fear, they silently nodded and agreed, exchanging worried glares, and sympathetic looks as a few servants grasped onto the other servant’s arms. “…no.. NO.. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! LET ME GO!!” The servant screamed in fear, pleading for the King’s mercy. It was too late.

“This flower is beautiful.” Ophelia smiled, admiring the pale purple flower’s beauty. It had felt so long since Ophelia had admired the nature around her, as she had only been exposed to the cold and dark stone walls of the tower. “Yes, that flower is known as a Dahlia.” Helene responded. Ophelia’s smiled immediately faded, her eyes beginning to water at the thought of her best friend, Dahlia, who was dead. “Oh… I’m sorry about that.” Helene immediately realised, before apologising awkwardly. There was an uncomfortable silence after that, only for a few seconds before Helene asked Ophelia a question.

“Would you like to see her?”

The palace doors opened once again, to reveal the Orilon family. “Ah, greetings, your majesty. We have returned from our journey around the village.” Queen Orilon smiled comfortingly. “We thank you all for such kindness, and support.” The King replied, slightly exhausted and slouched, for some odd reason…

“We have prepared a feast tonight, come and join me in the ballroom, would you?” The King smiled, gesturing the guests to the ballroom where the table was set, and the servants waited patiently, yet nervously.

As the guests entered the ballroom, they were welcomed with the most peculiar scent. They weren’t quite sure what is was, but we’re enticed to eat food after a long day. The royal chefs strolled over to the long oak table, before placing silver and steel platters and dishes of delicious food. Which of all, the main centrepiece of the dish, proudly beaming on a large silver dish on the table.

“meat.”

It took two men to cut the meat open with a tall, yet blunt knife, to reveal a rare, rose coloured inside. As it was served onto the delighted guests plates, they inspected the meat for a moment before attempting to eat it.

It tasted strong, yet a bitter taste, as well as difficult to eat as there was so much served on their plates. The king, however, gladly ate the meat within a few minutes with ease, as he even requested for more.

“This tastes quite interesting. What meat is this, if I may ask?” Prince Sebastian of Orilon asked curiously.

“This is a very special kind of meat, prepared by the most skilled chefs, with the help of some of my…servants.. as well.” The King replied gleefully as he continued eating.

The servant screamed in fear, his words becoming difficult to comprehend, his limbs flailing helplessly as he was dragged by maiming mournful servants towards the kitchen. The chefs, who had also been told of this order, also stared sympathetically. The chef had pulled out a sharp butchering knife towards the servant, quietly and cautiously.

“Now.. where is my knife?” The chef “pondered” out loud for a bit, the sharp knife grasped hand, only just waiting for the right moment. The servant simply said nothing, as he exhaled in relief, thinking that his death would be postponed for a little longer.

The chef immediately sliced through the servant’s neck just as he saw the slightest expression of relief from the servant. Unfortunately, the knife didn’t go right through, as the servant let out an agonising scream in pain, blood immediately rushing out from the servants neck, blood staining in mass amounts onto the fabric of his clothes. The servant squirmed automatically, limbs kicking and throwing onto the counter, creating loud clattering and pounding noises onto the metal. It took one more powerful cut before the servant finally fell silent, and fell limp, stopping all movement only a second before his death.

#short story #dark academia #creative writing #royalty #chapter 16

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legendarysaniyah · 2 years ago

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The Forgotten Tower [ALL CHARACTER INFORMATION]

[THIS HAS A LOT OF SPOILERS! Read all the chapters before so you fully understand who these characters are!]

This is updated frequently (Deaths/New characters/Other)

——

OPHELIA:

Age: 23

Height: 5’7

Birthday: 17/01

Current Status: Alive

Introduced in CHAPTER 1 (Main Character)

SEBASTIAN:

Age: 24

Height: 5’10

Birthday: 14/06

Current Status: Alive

Introduced in CHAPTER 1

THE KING OF UTOPIA:

Age: 50

Height: 5’5 (Height varies after the curse.)

Birthday: 09/09

Current Status: Alive

Introduced in CHAPTER 1

THE QUEEN OF UTOPIA:

Age: 48

Height: 5’3

Birthday: 18/11

Current Status: Dead

Introduced in CHAPTER 2 - Death in CHAPTER 14

QUEEN MARIGOLD OF ORILON:

Age: 50

Height: 5’7

Birthday: 02/08

Current Status: Alive

Introduced in CHAPTER 2

“THE GIRL”:

Age: Unknown, presumably young.

Birthday: 4/03

Height: 4’11

Current Status: Dead

Introduced in CHAPTER 7 - Death in CHAPTER 8

DAHLIA:

Age: 12

Birthday: 5/12

Height: 5’1

Current Status: Dead

Introduced in CHAPTER 10 - Death in CHAPTER 13

DUCHESS HELENE OF FLITA:

Age: 51

Birthday: 16/05

Height: 5’10

Current Status: Alive

Introduced in CHAPTER 14 (Hinted at in CHAPTER 5)

THE MUTILATED INSECT:

Age: 337

Birthday: Unknown

Height: 9’4

Current Status: Dead

Introduced in CHAPTER 6 - Death in CHAPTER 6

THE SHAPESHIFTER:

Age: Unknown

Birthday: Unknown

Height: 7’3 (May vary, depending on whom the shapeshifter takes form of.)

Current Status: Dead

Introduced in CHAPTER 6 - Death in CHAPTER 6

DARK GUARD 1:

(Basically, the one that died first)

Age: Unknown (Presumably younger than 50)

Birthday: 7/04

Height: 6’7

Current Status: Dead

Introduced in CHAPTER 6 - Death in CHAPTER 6

DARK GUARD 2:

(Also, the second guard, but the one that slipped on its own brother’s blood to its death. Ouch..)

Age: Unknown (Presumably younger than 50)

Birthday: 21/11

Height: 6’5

Current Status: Dead

Introduced in CHAPTER 6 - Death in CHAPTER 6

THE FURNACE:

Age: …Unknown?.. (the furnace is an object /kind of/)

Birthday: Unknown

Height: 8’0 in CHAPTER 7-8 / 20’6 in CHAPTER 13

Current Status: it’s a furnace… but yes, Alive?

Introduced in CHAPTER 7

THE EYES:

Age: Unknown

Birthday: Unknown

Height: A constant variation (I’ve always imagined the eyes being a slime substance of some sort, similar to the shapeshifter..)

Current Status: Alive?

Introduced in CHAPTER 8

STATUE 1 (FEMALE):

Age: 548

Birthday: 25/07

Height: 50’0

Current Status: Dead

Introduced in CHAPTER 11- Death in CHAPTER 11

STATUE 2 (MALE):

Age: 551

Birthday: 16/10

Height: 50’5

Current Status: Dead

Introduced in CHAPTER 11- Death in CHAPTER 11

SERVANT:

Age: 28

Birthday: 07/04

Height: 5’6

Current Status: Dead

Introduced in CHAPTER 16- Death in CHAPTER 16

SERGEANT FRANCIS CHAMBERLAIN:

Age: 35

Birthday: 14/10

Height: 6’2

Current Status: Alive

Introduced in CHAPTER 21

VISCOUNTESS MABEL FITZGERALD:

Age: Mid 30s

Birthday: 09/12

Height: 5'8

Current Status: Alive

Introduced in CHAPTER 23

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legendarysaniyah · 2 years ago

Text

The Forgotten Tower [CHAPTER 15]

ᴀ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴɢᴅᴏᴍ

TW: Suicide (from the previous chapter) and gore.

And there she was. Her graceful, pale, expressionless face silent and still, tilted downwards in midair, clearly accompanied by the neatly tied rope grasping tight around her neck, as she hung beside the antique polished wood chair, knocked over onto the beige stone tiles.

——

As Ophelia opened her eyes, everything became more vibrant, as if the world suddenly lit up. Ophelia blinked in confusion for a few moments before comprehending her surroundings. She wasn’t in the tower anymore.

She was outside.

Or was it an illusion? Ophelia couldn’t think properly for herself before the strangely familiar voice spoke again. “Don’t go back. Don’t go back to your prince.” The voice echoed. Ophelia narrowed her eyes as she tried to think. “I never even liked him anyways, my dad just wanted to get rid of me.” Ophelia scowled in response. There was a disturbing silence before the voice spoke again. “I apologise.” The voice replied. Ophelia suddenly felt unsure of what the voice meant, but she had began to feel a sudden rising anger for an unknown reason. “Apologise for what?” Ophelia asked, slightly curious. “I thought you liked him. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve it, my child.” The voice said in sympathy. Ophelia blinked for a few moments as she began to put the pieces together, as her neutral expression faded into a frown, her eyes twitching slightly, and her fists clenched.

The king glared at his wife, now hanging in her favourite garden. “I knew this would happen someday.” The king sighed, frustrated. “She loved Ophelia too much. And now Ophelia is gone.”

“Your majesty, have you seen-..” The Queen of Orilon asked before being cut off by the horrible sight of the deceased Queen of Utopia. “We must arrange a funeral immediately.” The king tilted his head in sorrow before glancing at his wife for the final time, before he called his servants to take his wife away.

After the news had been spread, sympathy from the town was given to the royals of Utopia, respectfully wearing dark colours throughout the day, a significant change through the usually bright and cheerful area.

“…So ..YOU.. YOU IMPRISONED ME INTO THIS MAKESHIFT HELL BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T WANT ME TO MARRY PRINCE SEBASTIAN?!” Ophelia screamed in fury, unsheathing her sword as tears ran down her face. “Not only that. I wanted to save you, from your father.” The voice said, still maintaining a calm and neutral voice. “Who even are you?! And how do YOU know about my family?..” Ophelia sobbed, “You trapped me in this prison and made me unknowingly kill my own friend!..” She yelled. The voice revealed themselves, to have a form. A form of a women, an enchantress. The enchantress had long and wavy black hair, very different from Ophelia, and wore a dark blue robe, embroidered with silver patterns, the dress reminded Ophelia of her mother. Too familiar. The enchantress had dark brown eyes, like Ophelia. Ophelia had felt as if she had seen someone like this before. “I am Duchess Helene of Flita. Does that seem familiar to you?” Duchess Helene asked Ophelia.

Ophelia thought for a moment, before her eyes widened in shock. “You.. you were related to my mother? Right?” Ophelia gasped in realisation. “Yes, Ophelia. I am your aunt.” Helene explained. “Your father had despised me, he had called me a witch because I believed in such fantasy and was a strong believer of astrotheology. He never loved your mother, well, not enough. He wanted power and status, so he married into the family of Utopia. Just because he was a king, that never meant that the royal family began with a queen in power, which was your mother. He wanted to get rid of you without harming his reputation, which is why he gave you a suitor, Prince Sebastian of Orilon, one of Utopia’s nearest trade links.” Helene had told Ophelia. “Your father only wanted power, Ophelia. Would you believe that? Or have you already known this?” Helene asked Ophelia, who has astonished to the truth she was hearing. “I never knew..” Ophelia muttered in shock. “Thankfully, I have something very special for him. I will show your father what a ‘witch’ really is…” Helene muttered in anger, quietly mumbling the second part of the sentence under her breath.

The King of Utopia sat in his chamber, showing no emotion. However, he wasn’t exactly ‘horrified’ of his wife’s tragic death. He sat down on his bed, glancing at the side his wife would usually be on, still looking at the previous creases on her side, the final moments before she decided to take her life away.

A bright flash of light struck the room, blinding the King’s eyes, very similar to what Ophelia had seen. And there was Duchess Helene of Flita, standing tall and towering over, creating a large shadow reflecting on the canopy bed.

“You witch. Have you returned to curse us all?!” The King of Utopia yelled, “You have no place here, I shall call my strongest guards on you, and you shall be burnt alive.” He scowled.

“But it is YOU, who doesn’t belong here.” Duchess Helene responded. “You have driven your own wife to suicide because of your harsh choices. If that little friend of Ophelia’s, Sebastian, was it?.. had married her, I would have KILLED you. But I took her away, for her own safety, and now she hates you. You cannot reverse what you have done.” She said loudly, blinding sparks erupting from her fingertips at a rapid pace, lighting up the room even more. “You took Ophelia away from us, you WITCH. My wife killed herself, because of YOU.” The king accused. “But it doesn’t matter to you. Does it? You never cared for your wife, or your daughter. You only wanted power and wealth.” Helene yelled, her hands outspread elegantly by her side.

“You have chosen royalty and status over your own family? What a TYRANT. All your actions are irreversible, and you must suffer fate, and I shall be the one to give it to you.” Helene spoke before chanting loudly in a forbidden language, seeming as if it was a curse.

The sparks exploded as the room was struck with a blinding light before returning to normal. The King of Utopia scoffed “Nothing has happened! You really are pathetic.”

“You want power? Well, I’ve given the opportunity to you. Well, not really… If you want more power, you must consume innocent people. The more people you consume, you will grow stronger, and more powerful. Isn’t that what you want? I’m sure you would have! If you don’t eat more people by the end of each day, as the clock strikes midnight, you will become weaker, and will begin to die a slow, painful death by each day.” Helene said. “If you would be so kind, then die a slow and painful death. But unfortunately for you, your tyranny will ruin your reputation, and ruin your life.” Helene spoke before disappearing within less than a second.

The King of Utopia glared, horrified. He had a curse upon him, but would he really consider it a curse, or a strength?

A few hours later, suddenly the royal funeral was called off on a short notice, and it would be restricted to a private, familial only funeral instead. The Royal family of Orilon had decided to visit the villages of Utopia, rather than around the fancy, elegant town areas so they could comfort the citizens about The Queen of Utopia’s death, as well as respecting the King so he could have privacy of seeing his wife the last time.

The King of Utopia glared at the casket before opening the hinged lid and he stared at his deceased wife for a moment, as she lay in the casket gracefully and elegantly, even though she was dead. He hesitated for a while. Before unsheathing two daggers from his pockets. He looked around frantically for a moment, looking to see if there was anyone watching, before slicing her open from her torso. Blood began to leak immediately, flowing out rapidly before he began to continuously stab, slice and tear her open. His hands grasped inside, almost looking for her organs, which was exactly what he was doing. Bones were accidentally crushed as he rummaged through the insides of her torso, desperate for power. That was all he could think of now. He began to pull out her organs aggressively as he continuously tore her flesh, sometimes creating a disgusting tearing noise like paper, even though she was dead anyways, it would count, right?…

#short story #dark academia #creative writing #royalty #chapter 15

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legendarysaniyah · 2 years ago

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The Forgotten Tower [CHAPTER 14]

ᴀ ᴅᴀʀᴋᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴅᴀʏ

TW: Suicide

“OPHELIA!” Dahlia screamed in agony and fear as she also had let go, her arm outstretching uselessly as she tried to reach to Ophelia, who also repeated the same action, outstretching her hand, which was also useless as they were far apart, and becoming even further as Dahlia fell into the abyss, her last cry of agony echoing for 10 seconds before the horrifying sound of a thud echoed throughout the room. “DAHLIA!” Ophelia screamed and sobbed loudly, knowing that nothing could save her now.

——

Ophelia sobbed loudly, and called out for Dahlia many times. However, there was always no reply as a result. Dahlia was like the younger sister that Ophelia never had. Even though she felt like she hadn’t met Dahlia for as long as she had wished to, Dahlia had meant a lot to Ophelia. Unlike now, she wasn’t here, and the furnace had already left, isolating her in this dark room.

“Now now, dear child. No need to worry about your darling Dahlia now, or perhaps.. your prince.” A mysterious voice spoke. Dahlia scowled, her bloodshot eyes and expression painted with fury and rage.

“What did you do… reveal yourself at once, you hideous creature!” Ophelia yelled, before pausing for a moment in realisation. ‘or perhaps your prince..’ the voice said a moment ago. “And, how do you know that about me?!” Ophelia hissed blindly the pitch black room presented no indication of movement.

But there was only silence. The peculiar sounding voice never replied back.

Ophelia sighed, her tears still flowing down her face, as she used her trembling hands to wipe her tears away. “Why couldn’t this just happen to me?! I shall perish alongside Dahlia if that means for you to stop this violence, once and for all!” Ophelia yelled, the palms of her hands slamming against the golden scale, making a clattering noise, disturbing the silence for only a few seconds before remaining to the silence.

…

The scale Ophelia stood on made a loud creaking noise, the room beginning to shake, causing an impact on the scale. Ophelia yet again heard the horrific sound of chains rattling, increasing in volume. The last time the chains began to clatter, it had meant no good. Ophelia frantically ran towards the edge of the scale, and grasped onto it for her life, just miraculously in time as the scale tilted 90 degrees, just how it had done for Dahlia. Ophelia took a sharp exhale, as her tired, trembling hands finally gave up, and Ophelia let go of the scale.

Ophelia had already accepted her sealed fate, and how she was never going to escape the tower, unknown of how far she had gotten.

Falling… falling…

Seconds had passed by, Ophelia’s long velvet skirt tossing and turning from falling constantly, as there was just silence. Until Ophelia decided to look down, to acknowledge her fate of what she would hit as she would eventually collapse to the ground.

For some reason, the bottomless room became lighter in shade, only by slightly, until she managed to see something. The ground.

And there was Dahlia’s cold, lifeless body. Her spine pierced straight through her torso from such impact, creating a large pool of blood staining the floor, along with her injured head, her hair dripping with crimson red blood tilted, facing the ground as the bones previously holding her neck in place had been broken.

“DAHLIA!” Ophelia cried loudly, turning her head right so she could see one last glimpse of her deceased friend before her death.

Ophelia scrunched her face, her eyes tightly shut, embracing death. She had done that for a few seconds, before she realised that she had felt nothing. ‘Is it over yet?’ Ophelia wondered, before opening her eyes.

Ophelia still kept falling, her eyes wide as she still could see Dahlia’s corpse above her, getting harder to see as the kept falling. ‘Am I falling through the ground?… I should be dead! How is this happening?’ Ophelia thought, bewildered with a pure expression of fear on her face. “Why am I not dying yet?!” Ophelia yelled in worry, her voice trembling as it echoed against the room. Before her vision went dark.

The last thing Ophelia heard was a loud thud, which, she assumed to be her own body slamming against the now revealed ground, even if the ground had remained to be a illuminated shade of pitch black, but she had known that she wouldn’t have discovered where the ground was in time, as for now, she had suddenly fallen limp at the second she could acknowledge where the surface was.

The King of Utopia peered out of the frosted glass windows. Then he sighed, before walking up the white, quartz stairs. Searching for something, or someone…

“My darling? Are you in your chamber?” The King of Utopia asked as the beautiful palace chamber doors opened with a creak. The King decided to walk up the polished quartz stairs in the room, walking past the satin canopy bed placed neatly along the uniquely patterned rug. Seeing a few blurred objects, and supposedly a still figure, he opened the frosted glass doors to their private garden as he called once again for his wife.

#short story #dark academia #creative writing #royalty #chapter 14

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legendarysaniyah · 2 years ago

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Concept Art: The Scale - The Forgotten Tower

Here’s another digital drawing, but it is the scale from Chapter 13!

Please read Chapter 13 if you haven’t or you won’t understand!! SPOILERS BELOW!!

[This is what the scale would look like after Dahlia’s death. (The right side scale had its chains go loose and break, with Dahlia standing on the right side scale.)

#short story #creative writing #conceptdrawing #sketch

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legendarysaniyah · 2 years ago

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The Forgotten Tower [CHAPTER 13]

ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʟᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴊᴜꜱᴛɪᴄᴇ

I was super excited to write this, I had this idea for weeks!!

“To the end of this tower!” Dahlia chanted, a lively tone in her voice. Ophelia chuckled, before repeating after Dahlia.

“To the end of this tower!”

——

As they opened the door, expecting to see the gorgeous light of day shining in front of them…

The room was pitch black.

“Let’s go inside, what are you waiting for??” Dahlia grinned, excited yet curious to enter the room. The darkened room still looked disturbing, in a way, as the walls were completely pitch black, darkened with absolutely no trace of light, and the floor also displayed no light and almost looked like it wasn’t even there! As the two girls stepped forwards into the room, Ophelia stepping left, to glance around on that side, and Dahlia stepping right, to glance around on the other side, the both fell almost immediately.

Turns out, there was no floor.

The two of them shrieked in panic as they tumbled down as they waved their hands around, struggling to grasp anything in the massive, empty room, they tumbled down further, and further. Could this lead to their deaths?

That was until they both slammed onto a solid, curvy metal surface. Chains rattling aggressively from an unknown source. The two were separated, from a slightly far distance away from each other. Ophelia groaned in pain as she rubbed her eyes, to try and comprehend the situation in front of her. She looked around as she sat up, the room was still pitch black and dark, but when Ophelia looked on the solid surface, which she was in fact sitting on, she was surprised to see a gleaming, gold surface. Dahlia winced in pain, on the other side as she too, sat upwards to see the Ophelia sitting on the other side, confused. The gold surface was thin, and shaped slightly like a bowl, but more like a peculiar curved plate. They looked around to see two metal gold chains suspended above the curved bowl like surface, and a gorgeous sparkling stand embroidered with beautiful patterns, separating the two of them. And it came to the realisation of what they were on.

They were on a beautifully designed, golden balancing scale.

On both of the sides of the scales, there were 3 levers, fitted onto the surface of the each balancing weight, labelled with numbers, also embroidered in the luxurious gold design.

“Aha! Welcome, AGAIN!… ah, uh… traveller- travellers!” A familiar voice called out, tone with glee and excitement.

“Wh.. wh.. who ARE you?! Show yourselves, at once, I demand you!” Dahlia yelled in anger, standing up onto the scale, slightly wobbling as the scale tilted due to her movement. “It is I, again.” The voice spoke, with a slightly sinister tone.

A bright orange glow heated the room, and brightened the room, still pitch black, but the familiar glow and roar of uprising flames, concealed between metal bars.

The furnace.

Except that this furnace was much, MUCH larger than it was in its furnace room. “Huh?! Why are you here?! I thought you were helping me! You tricked me! Liar!!” Ophelia shouted, her voice as furious as Dahlia’s. “…Huhhh? You know this guy?!” Dahlia asked, still frustrated. “Tricked you?! Ahaha! Very funny, very very funny. Well… I was actually helping you, until I got bored, because, uh.. y’know I don’t have very many friends back there in that furnace room, and I was uh, given permission!… permission to uh.. be here!!” The furnace responded, with a slightly confident ring in its voice.

“Don’t you DARE hurt Dahlia.” Ophelia hissed, “I will fight you myself.” She snarled. “Woah woah! No need to get so aggressive, I just was bored and wanted to see another awesome tournament!” The furnace explained. “Tournament… huh? What do you mean by the term tournament?” Dahlia asked, curiously. “Well, little child, I shall explain it to the both of you!” The furnace exclaimed excitedly.

“Okay, so here’s how the game works.

I will call out a number every few seconds, from 1 to 3. You must pull the correct lever first. Doing so will lift your scale higher than your opponents, and you will win the game if you continue pulling the CORRECT levers. If you pull the wrong lever, your scale will lower deeper than your opponents. And you will lose."

"Okay, what happens if you...lose...?" Ophelia asked, nervously as a bead of sweat trickled down her forehead.

"Hmh. Thats for you to find out." The furnace said, clearly unbothered and bored. "Well, okay! Let's start this game now! Get ready, you two!" The furnace exclaimed, eager with excitement.

The scales shook a bit, as the two girls on the opposite ends stumbled. The levers began to glow miraculously with a luminous yellow glow, matching the beautiful gold colour.

"3!" The furnace shouted, the voice booming through the room.

Both girls shrieked, and began to panic, Dahlia quickly dashed to pull the lever, before Ophelia did.

"Wow, what a fantastic start already! Keep it up, kid!" The furnace began to commentate.

The two of them shrieked in fear as the two of them felt the scales moving, Dahlia's scale moved upwards, indicating future victory, On the other hand, Ophelia's scale moved lower to the dark abyss, it's cold, dark embrace welcoming her. "Ophelia! I'm scared!" Dahlia began to cry, tears pouring down her cheeks. "Don't worry, Dahlia. You'll be just fine!" Ophelia reassured Dahlia, before the next number was yelled.

"1!" The furnace yelled, yet again. Dahlia's hands were shaking rapidly, but determinedly, Ophelia just barely managed to pull the correct lever.

"Brilliant! Well done." The furnace told Ophelia before the scales aggressively shook once again, as Ophelia rose higher than Dahlia. Dahlia, shaking in fear, let out a frustrated cry as her face grew more crimson and sweat pouring down her face in clear distress.

"1!" The furnace repeated.

Ophelia, clumsily predicting it was going to be the number "2" accidentally pulled down the lever with such confidence before Dahlia. Dahlia sighed with relief as she wiped the sweat off her face.

The scales shook violently again, now levelling Ophelia back down with Dahlia, in it's original height in which the game had started in. Both were even. But the game continued until one of the opponents were close.... to losing.

Numbers were yelled over and over, and the scales were lifting up and down constantly, still failing to catch out the losing opponent. Sometimes the scale didn't move at all when the two had both pulled the levers at the same time, or perhaps the wrong ones.

At this point, Ophelia was extremely lower than Dahlia, rising higher with confidence and determination.

"If this little girl pulls the lever first, the game shall end." The furnace declares. Both girls narrow their eyes, their competitive sides corrupting them entirely.

"2!" The furnace calls out. Ophelia rushes over to pull the correct lever in time, her face drenched in sweat and her mind overloaded with stress.

Ophelia just manages to pull the lever in time, before the scale creaks loudly and Ophelia moves upwards, Dahlia moving down.

As time went on, Ophelia began to understand the small tricks and tips of the game, miraculously still... winning, somehow. Dahlia became more and more nervous, and worried. 'What had that furnace said would happen if you win? A prize maybe? A weapon for one of them? And if you lose? You probably wouldn't win anything!' Ophelia pondered, before the furnace called out another number, again. And it seemed like Ophelia was a higher level than Dahlia. Dahlia had begun to lose, and if she pulls the wrong lever, or doesn't manage to pull it in time TWICE, she would lose, and Ophelia could win.

“1!” The furnace yells, and Ophelia launches herself slightly tumbling onto the switch to fumble around to pull the 2nd lever. And she sighs in relief as she feels her scale move upwards, shaking slowly as it wobbles upwards. “Oh, seriously!” Dahlia yells in frustration, as Ophelia chuckles, “Don’t worry, Dahlia! You are doing great!” Ophelia encourages Dahlia.

Dahlia was one step closer to…..losing, and Ophelia was winning, not understanding what the point of the game was, as she was slightly skeptical, but her competitive side shone throughout her.

“Ugh.. I don’t want to play anymore!” Dahlia sighed, already tired. “Same, will this game going to be over yet?” Ophelia asked.

“Well. If Ophelia gets one more right, then she shall win.” The furnace said, slightly sinister in his voice. “Fine, y’know what Ophelia! I’ll let you win.” Dahlia smiled, feeling generous. Dahlia didn’t care if she lost. “Thank you, Dahlia.” Ophelia said before the furnace spoke the final number.

“2!” The furnace called out. And Ophelia slowly pulled the last lever, multiple clicking noises as she pulled the lever down. Dahlia’s scale shook violently downwards, being extremely further down than Ophelia’s scale, which was raised high. Dahlia ran near the edge of the scale, cautiously, to peer up at Ophelia who had also done the same, and had peered down at Dahlia.

“Well, Congratulations Princess Ophelia! I am very surprised to see one who will gladly submit their life for their dearest friend. In our honour for you, little girl.” The furnace spoke gleefully. And in that moment, both of the girls smiles faded. “..what?” Ophelia paused, immediately feeling worried.

“Oh yeah.. I didn’t tell you what happened if you won or lose, huh…

Soo… the winner will stay alive, Princess Ophelia. And the person who loses… uh.. dies.” The furnace said calmly.

“WHAT?!” Dahlia screamed, immediately panicking, as she knelt down and began to cry. “NO! YOU… YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” Ophelia yelled at the furnace, full of rage. “DON’T KILL HER, KILL ME, PLEASE!” Ophelia pleaded, who also had tears flowing down her cheeks. “I DON’T WANT TO DIE, OPHELIA! I DON’T WANT TO, PLEASE!” Dahlia wailed loudly, “DON’T KILL ME PLEASE, I’M ONLY 12! I’M ONLY.. 12!” Dahlia sobbed.

“Ah.. well.. she said that I was allowed to be here if I did cause some harm, and hey, at least it’s not you, Princess Ophelia!” The furnace suggested awkwardly. “WHO IS IT?! WHO TOLD YOU?!” Ophelia cried. “I DON’T WANT TO DIE, OPHELIA! I DON’T WANT TO!” Dahlia continued sobbing, practically screaming her lungs out in hopes for the furnace to spare her life.

“Alright, this brat is getting annoying.” The furnace spoke, before chanting some sort of ancient enchantment or language. “NO! DON’T, PLEASE!” Ophelia screamed in pain, her bloodshot eyes the colour of beautiful, fresh crimson roses. Dahlia was the first human contact who actually listened to her and cared about her, unlike her wretched, bewitched family.

“OPHELIA!…” Dahlia sobbed out, her face full of distress and sorrow, her hands clasped together, interlocking fingers, like she was praying for hope. Ophelia also wept loudly, almost harmonising amongst Dahlia’s painful cries.

And immediately after the furnace had finished repeating its enchantments, the blinding orange glow of the furnace disappeared, as well as the scorching heat that filled the room. The furnace was gone.

Immediately, the both of the distressed girls looked up to see the right side of the golden scale where Dahlia was sat, the chains rapidly slipping off the golden T- shaped poles where it had originally been held. Dahlia screamed as the scale tilted 90 degrees, as her small fingers struggled to grasp onto the curves at the end of the golden scale. The scale barely managed to hold on, until the right side of the scale finally gave in, and broke off.

#short story #creative writing #royalty #dark academia #chapter 13

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legendarysaniyah · 2 years ago

Text

The Forgotten Tower [CHAPTER 12]

ᴀ ꜰᴀʟꜱᴇ ʀᴇᴠɪᴠᴀʟ

The black sludge slowly seep into the broken statue, fully filling in fixing the spaces of the statue, with its own horrific form, eyes seeping in the cracks of the two statues.

“Yep, we should run!”

——

The eyes seeped into the cracks of the statue, almost gluing the pieces back together, not whole, but almost into a revived form.

Except that now, it wasn’t the two arguing statues as before.

They were two lifeless souls, possessed by rows and rows of eyes filling their statue’s empty eyeholes, the cracks between the statues arms and torso. Ophelia and Dahlia had already began to sprint down the hallway, however, it was ever so long. Ophelia felt like her eyes were playing tricks on her, the hallway felt suddenly longer, and the floorboards felt like they were moving rapidly, making the two of them stumble and lean against the broken pillars.

The floor shook rapidly and pounded as the two statues had regained its balance, and began to limp towards the two girls, saying absolutely nothing. It was almost eerie, there were no voices to be heard, only the slightly small sound of two pairs of footsteps and two heavy, loud footsteps breaking the floorboards and provoking debris to fall off the ceiling. The male statue had lost both of its legs, after it had crumbled during their argument, and was now using both of its hands to create movement, crawling closer and closer as it tore the carpet, sounds of shredding fabric filling the air.

The female statue had lost both of its arms, also from crashing to the ground and creating impact enough to shatter its arms to pieces, being almost impossible to fix. The female statue was significantly faster, however the disadvantage was that it kept stumbling headfirst into walls clumsily, unable to prevent its own damage as it frantically tried to crush the two mortals with it’s concrete sandals that it wore.

As Dahlia quickly whipped her head around to look behind her, she glanced at her surroundings, the hallway was being ruined, and their lives were in danger, only just out of reach for the two statues. She saw the horrific sight of the mysterious dark substance contained inside, multiple eyes taking form inside the statues, two disgustingly unnatural human eyes placed into each of the statues eyeholes, practically possessing them.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take them that long for the two of them to become tired, sweat dripping down their faces, their limbs screaming in agony, pleading for atleast one second of rest, however, that one second of rest would be a second too long for them in order for them to survive.

The hallway felt like it was going on forever, and the two of them eventually became tired, losing their breath as they panted for more air, sweat cascading down their faces. “I don’t think I can go on much longer, Ophelia!” Dahlia cried, her voice full of despair and tragedy. “I am NOT going to let you die, Dahlia! Don’t give up just yet! Please!..” Ophelia responded, her voice full of concern and her eyes pricking with tears, was Dahlia going to be crushed by those statues?! “I don’t want to die!! I have a whole life ahead of me, Ophelia! I have a FUTURE! Everything could change!.. We could be out of here and I would never get to experience that if I’m… if I’m dead!!” Dahlia sobbed, tears falling down her face as she eventually became slower, her legs aching in pain and agony. “I won’t let you die, I promise! I won’t!” Ophelia ran back to Dahlia, who as stiff as a board, her eyes full of emotion and sadness, accepting her fate.

Out of instinct, Ophelia grabbed Dahlia, pulling her out of the way beside a pillar, barely missing being crushed by the female statue. “We are almost there! Look, the door!” Ophelia exclaimed, “Let’s go! Please, Dahlia. We are going to get out of this wretched tower! I know it!” Ophelia said as she encouraged Dahlia. “You’re right! I am going to escape this stupid tower, once and for all!” Dahlia yelled with confidence as they became nearer and nearer to the door. The two statues eventually became slower, as they two girls to realise that they had given up.

Ophelia smirked in determination as she saw the two statues, still “alive” in a sense, but standing still, accepting their defeat.

That was until both statues began to shift slightly, the female statue kneeling down next to the male statue, almost like a tragic romance film. The two of them stared at each other, their expressions neutral, as cold as the stone itself, before suddenly exploding into pieces.

Dahlia shrieked in fear as she grabbed onto Ophelia and tackled her onto the floor, pushing the both of them away from the dangers just like Ophelia had done before. As the door shut, they both sighed, the two of them were safe. “See, look, we did it, Dahlia! We did it!” Ophelia cheered happily, “Yes! We did it! Just a few more easy stuff, and we are out of here! Alive! Yay!!” Dahlia shouted, excitedly as they both laughed, relieved. As the two of them regained their balance, they decided to eat some food, as they were starving after they just ran through an extremely long hallway, and were very exhausted.

Both of the girls sat down, exhausted. There was just silence in the atmosphere, other than the heavy breathing and panting of each other. They put their weapons and food onto the dark oak floorboards and took a minute to breathe. They were still cautious that something could break through the door, though.

As Ophelia looked up, she could see a single door in her vision, well, a very grand door which looked like it could have symbolised something very important. The exit of this tower, perhaps? Before Ophelia was about to ask, Dahlia interrupted the heavy silence.

“Woah, that door over there looks pretty cool. Plus it’s in the west!… or middle? I guess?..” Dahlia said, curiously. “Well, there is no other way to go, we must be near to the exit of this tower!” Ophelia chuckled. “Yes! We could get out of this, alive!” Dahlia exclaimed, hopeful and excited for the future.

The door seemed very fancy, made out of dark oak and steel, embroidered with lines of thin gold and beautiful carvings, in between sparkling white quartz walls. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go!!” Dahlia jumped, extremely euphoric. “To the end of this tower!” Dahlia chanted, a lively tone in her voice. Ophelia chuckled, before repeating after Dahlia.

“To the end of this tower!”

#short story #dark academia #creative writing #royalty #chapter 12

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