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I was surprised I had found my way here so easily, but in truth, I had had a bit of help—the inked markings on my bicep. I used them to track the God of Death here, and although my light walking abilities should have delivered me right to him, something had stopped me from magically approaching any further. It was as if a giant, invisible wall had been placed in front of me, cutting off my path.
When I noticed the ancient wards marked out on a hedge of stones set off to my right and left, I knew what it was—the Blood King had safe-guarded his castle from any unwanted visitors, meaning this was the furthest point I could light walk to. I would physically have to walk the rest of the way.
I glanced ahead.
Nestled in the embrace of the dark, menacing mountains was a grand castle crafted from obsidian. Soaring in structure and grandeur, it stood proudly, dominantly stating its claim over the lands below, overlooking its domain like the king of the jungle surveying its pride. It was ornate and gothic in architecture with cloud-scraping spires.
It was not just a castle—it was an ethereal fortress, and I was spellbound.
A path, winding and treacherous, loomed before me. The sides of it were so steep I could not see the bottom below. Spruce trees painted the sides a lush green, their tops and branches decorated with fresh, fluffy, black snow. It was a wonder they were able to grow there at all in the unforgiving landscape, and yet, they did.
The caw of a raven garnished my attention, my gaze shifting to the moody, purple sky. Its talons held onto an orb—the glass catching the light as it flew over. Wings flapping,it started its ascent towards the castle. It didn’t waiver, unbothered by the treacherous, bottomless ground beneath.
Gathering a breath, I continued forward, sticking to the middle of the path.
As I walked, a sound grew behind me—a melodic humming emitting from a deep, male voice. Turning, I peered over my shoulder.
Coming up on my left, sailing on the air, was a boat—long and sleek and as black as the mighty castle up ahead. The bow was chiseled into a serpent’s head—its mouth stretched open, revealing sinister, pointed teeth, ready to sink into the world. A head poked out from behind the bow, a male—middle-aged with a great big grin. His fingers gripped the small brim of his hat as he took it off his head. “Ahoy there, miss.”
“Hello,” I replied, taking in the boat drifting on the current of the air as it pulled up beside me.
Aboard the vessel, people of a variety of ages and ethnicities chatted amongst themselves. Some of them broke off their conversations, turning to look at me. A few of them held wooden oars, their rowing stopped momentarily.
“I take it ye are heading towards the castle.” The man propped his hat back on his head and dropped his booted heel against the lip of the boat, a heavy thud sounding. He nodded forward, his stormy-gray eyes shifting back to me. “Would ye like a ride?”
I had two options: climb aboard the peculiar boat or continue the long walk up the treacherous path. I wasn’t too keen on either option. I motioned to the space between the path and the boat. “How do I get aboard?”
The man’s rough pads stroked his wiry beard as he peered over the edge of his boat, glancing down. He shrugged, a grin curling his lips. “I suppose ye will have to jump.” He barked out a laugh.
My expression soured, and he cut his laughter short.
He shook his head. “Apologies, miss. Here.” He waved his hand and a wooden dock appeared, bridging itself between the boat and the path.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” I asked, glancing down, down, down. I was not afraid of heights, but I wasn’t so sure my magic could save me if I were to fall because of the wards the God of Death had put in place. I’d probably lay there for eternity, broken and shattered, with no hopes of ever being found.
“Safe enough.” He nodded once. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have a few more trips I need to make, so if you could hurry up, that would be swell.”
I weighed my options—deciding the boat was the quickest one.
“Apologies,” I said, braving one step onto a wooden board, testing it. It performed an unceremonious groan, causing my gut to churn.
His playful voice shifted to a softer, understanding tone. “Pardon me, are ye a new soul here?”
“I suppose I am,” I replied after giving it some thought. Carefully, I moved forward—one unsure foot on the strange, hovering structure.
“Ah, well then—” He flopped his hand forward in offering for me to take, “—allow me to be ye tour guide.”
I placed my good hand in his, keeping the one with the shattered finger held protectively against my chest. His fingers—there was no warmth, no flesh. Just cold, hard bone. I jerked my hand away, my eyes flaring wide. His hand looked like a typical hand—there was skin there, and yet, that’s not what I had felt.
“A new soul indeed,” he stated more to himself than me. He gestured to a vacant seat. “Please, if you would. And then we can continue forward.”
I moved to the seat and sat down, my legs weary from walking over the creaking dock and the proverbial path I was on.
The people began to row, and the boat began to move.
The captain turned his gaze to the castle. “It’s really something, isn’t it? I’ve seen it hundreds of times, and yet I’m just as awe-struck as the first time I saw it. Something out of a storybook, wouldn’t you agree?”
I nodded, surveying the majestic castle in all of its dark grandeur. “Does it have a name?”
