She is beside you again, warm as tilled summer soil, her voice quietly rumbling. "Do you like it here?"
It is interesting you think to yourself. "Maybe."
You feel her mirth like a breeze. "Do you want to go inside?"
Your eyes land upon he doors, winding shapes are carved in the dark wood; you think you can spot faces, animals, maybe even a word. The door itself seems alive, and before you know it you hand is on the iron knob. "I can go in?"
"Yes."
"It's safe....?" You eye the crumbling corners of the roof.
"Safe as you want it to be."
"Are you coming?"
"I'm already there." She seems to fade into the wall, become the stone and ivy.
It is her, you sense, in the courtyard, the building. You can almost hear her voice in the gurgle of the fountain, in the scraping of the wind on the stone walls.
The door pushes open easily, and swings to behind you on it's own. There aren't any lit torches you can spot, but light falls in patches, as if the sun shines through parts of the walls. You notice that despite the dilapidated appearance outside that here there is no dust, no clutter. Tapestries hang on the walls, the colors fresh and brilliant, the stories complicated, and woven into the fabric with immeasurable skill. The furniture shines darkly, promising unspoken thoughts in every nook and cranny. You wander through the halls, listening to the hollow cadence of your footsteps. Where is she?
"Here." You turn a corner into a guest room decorated in brocade. "Here too."
"What?" Your voice seems loud. No answer.
At the end of the corridor you spot a narrow flight of stairs. Almost too narrow to climb... stairs made for another century when people were smaller, and far better at scurrying. Your shoulders brush both walls as you climb the spiral, and it leads to another, darker corridor. You stop at the first door, it's locked but the key hangs from the knob. You almost take it, but something inside tells you to move on. The fourth door has no key, and is unlocked. This is the one. Your sure. You can sense something important on the other side.
The hinges are stiff, but with a strong heave they give way, and you stumble into the courtyard? It can't be. You're upstairs, you tell yourself. But this courtyard feels different, there's something here that makes you want to lay on the ground and stare at the sky. The fountain pumps clear, sparkling water. The grass is lush beneath your feet. The gazebo is white, and new, the benches covered with plush embroidered cushions. The grapes vines are brilliant green, and the dark purple grapes the size of plums, swinging gently over the edges. Blackberry brambles grow on the trellis behind the gazebo, and the fruit hangs in heavy clusters. You head for the steps, but some instinct makes you stop.
The castle has caught the corner of you eye. Tall, steady and imposing, gargoyles perched proudly on the corners... the ivy only arching timidly around the lower windows. The door is deep mahogany red, glistening in the light, and you sense the movement of the carvings.
A flash of brown, and green in the highest window draws your notice, and you forget the fruit, and the cushions. She is still inside somehow, waiting. And you want to find her.
This time when you step inside you are engulfed in a thick fog. No light. Only moist darkness, and the far off rumble of thunder. You try to back up, and almost fall over backwards. The door is no longer there. You flail blindly, trying to see through the billowing white, sensing that something overhead... perhaps the moon... is giving off light. You take one step, cautiously, fear flashing through your stomach, then another, tentatively scraping along what feel like cobbles. Then a calm sweeps over you. The fog no longer seems menacing. "I'm here."
You cock your head, then shake it. "Hmm?" the fog seems to absorb your voice.
"This way." You feel as if warm hands are touching your face, your hair, but when your reach up you feel nothing but a crackle in the air. Static.
Determined you moved forward at a reckless pace. There is something ahead, and you just make it out....