[b]DAY 16: INHUMAN SPEECH – THE CHAMBER OF FLAMES[/b]

The man had already forgotten his own name. At the beginning of his journey he had thought that he was ready for everything it would take to acquire what he was seeking. But now, he wasn't so sure anymore, a doubt had started to take hold of his soul. Layer by layer his identity was getting erased, so the further he was pushing himself, the less of an individual he became in the process. But somewhere there, within his rotten core, was the person – or at least remnants of one – who had decided to make this journey as a last resort. There was a purpose for every uncertain step he was making, even though at times he hesitated. But there was no going back. He didn't even know how to turn around and take another course.

He believed he was getting close now. He didn't remember closing his eyes, but as he opened them again, he found himself from a strange place. It was like an abandoned mental asylum, left to decay. There was only one corridor and two rows of doors on both sides. The whole place was so stale and forgotten and decayed, there was filth and debris everywhere. The man took a quick glance behind him, but there was nothing but a wall. How did he even get here? But it didn't really matter in the end. He was aware that he just had to keep going, it was the force driving him further. So he walked, walked towards the obscurity ahead.

It wasn't really this corridor of rot that gave him an unnerving feeling. No, it was the realization that he wasn't alone here. There were figures lying on the sides of the corridor; at first the man had thought they were piles of garbage. Then they moved. As the man walked closer to them, he was shocked. They appeared dark because they were severely burnt, just masses of scorched skin and flesh. Oddly, their eyes still remained normal, but there was such a haunting expression of torment in them that the man couldn't dare to look at them for long. The people were wailing, vocalizing their misery, but they were also talking. However, the speech confused the man, it didn't feel like they were saying actual words in any language. There was something twisted and forlorn in the way they talked. Some of these poor souls seemed to try to talk to him directly, but of course, the man couldn't understand a word they said. It felt such a heartless thing to do, but he just tried to ignore the people; it's not like he could give them any help anyway.

Finally the man could see the end of the corridor in the distance. There was a door and he had the feeling that it was what he was looking for; the odd black engravings on the metal door gave him a powerful yet strange sensation. With a hopeful mind the man approached it. He grasped the handle and opened the door, its hinges screaming like banshees. He got access to a spacious round room and as he stepped inside, the door shut by itself behind him.

Was this really the right place? The man looked around him. The room was huge; it could easily be occupied by a few hundred people. But it was also awfully empty. There was nothing but blackness for the walls, ceiling and the floor were all covered in a black reflective material; the man could see his mirror image all around him. He was bewildered by it all, but he could definitely sense a force resonating in the air.

Suddenly, flames lit around the walls of the room. They raged fiercely, surrounding the whole space. The man was scared, especially when he noticed that the flames were circling around him, getting closer bit by bit. There was no escape. The unbearable heat hit his skin and soon he was being scorched by the fire. He screamed in agony as the flames devoured him and he tried to get out from the door that had sealed him in, but it wouldn't budge. Desperately he pounded it a few times, but it didn't help him. The fires were burning his skin and flesh, suffering the same fate as the people he had just passed. The man pondered if this was the end of him, but no. He wasn't that lucky.

The flames died out. But the agony remained. The man whimpered pathetically, wishing to die. With his weak and burnt hands, he tried to open the metal door, and this time, it allowed him to get out. He was on the long corridor again, but didn't get far. It was too painful to move.

One of the people he had passed looked pitifully at him.

“You're one of us now.”

This wasn't what the man had been looking for. He had hated himself more than anything else and wanted to find a way to get rid of the person he was. Layer by layer his identity had been peeled off of him and now, he was nothing but a miserable creature forgotten by everyone, suffering an everlasting anguish that would never leave him be.



[b]DAY 17: UNWANTED ATTACHMENT – ALWAYS PART OF YOU[/b]

Krulke was immersed in his task of polishing the many silvery candelabras there were scattered around the castle he called home. He didn't think of himself as a king or lord or any other authority figure, he was merely a servant of no one. Krulke had taken it as his sacred duty to tend the castle until a proper ruler would come and make it flourish. It was quite a task, to maintain the castle all by himself, but he was doing a fairly good job. Although he enjoyed what he was doing, he still eagerly waited for the day when the next king would arrive. He was born as a servant and a servant needs a master, so he was looking forward to the moment when he could obey orders from someone else than… her.

“It's too cold. Do something about it.”

Krulke heard a nasty voice of an old woman right by his ear. He didn't answer, he couldn't even if he wanted to, because his mouth was sewn shut. The harsh voice of the woman was something he hated, but there was no way to get away from it. Like a gross living hump on his back, a woman had merged with his body, having no limbs of her own, she was pretty much just a torso and a head. She was bound to Krulke, living like a parasite on his back. He would have to carry her everywhere, being a constant burden to him. Krulke considered his own existence as a cursed one, but there was nothing he could do about it.

She would always demand things from him. Like right at that moment, she wanted him to warm up the place. It was winter so of course the castle would be a bit chilly, but following the orders of the woman, Krulke stopped what he was doing and started to wander towards the closest fireplace. His lonely stomping through the castle was the only thing to be heard. He hoped that would change some time in the future. Krulke made his way to a parlor; he had already lit the fireplace in there, but it had started to die down a bit. He threw a few more firewood into the flames and soon enough it was burning nicely again. Krulke turned his back at the fire and sat down on the floor, letting the woman warm up a little.

It wouldn't take too long before she would start to command him again. That's all she was, just a leech that ordered him around and mocked him, never showing even the tiniest bit of gratitude whenever Krulke would fulfill her wishes. It was hard for Krulke to understand how a being like her had brought him into this world. Because of this bond, he would never get away from her influence.

Day after day Krulke spent his time alone with the old woman on his back. She never had anything good to say about him, he was just getting demeaned. On the worst days he just wanted to cry, but of course, then she would mock him even more. More than anything else in the world, Krulke desired for a way to get free from the old woman. Because he didn't know how much longer he could take this. Sometimes he wanted to leap from the roof of the castle. But he was afraid that he would then be stuck in a spirit realm like this with her, making it even harder for him to ever get away from her.

Krulke's wish to see a king to claim the castle was also rooted in his craving to get rid of the old woman. Maybe the next king would be merciful and free him from this torment. It was his little string of hope he was grasping with all his strength. This hope helped him to get through the days while waiting.

But it was hard. After all, it's tough to ignore your own mother.



[b]DAY 18: COLD HANDS – SAD LITTLE PRINCE[/b]

In his tower of magnificent castle, the little prince was sitting by the fireplace, staring into the dance of flames. But even though he was close to the fire, he felt cold, so cold that it was manifesting even to the outside world. The winter had come early this year, all because of the little prince who was heavily burdened by sadness. He had already shed all his tears, but the sorrow wouldn't free his heart. The only thing he could do was sit in his room all alone and dwell in anguish. He longed for the presence of another prince, but he had lost them, and probably would never see him again, not in this life or when his soul would pass on. It was unbearable. The little prince yearned for those warm sensations he had lost, but it was likely that they were gone for good.

For a long while the little prince had stayed in his tower, not eating or doing anything else than stare into the flames or out of the window. This of course worried people, especially his mother, the queen, but there is no way to cure sadness. Seeing her son in this devastated state brought distress to her as well. The little prince had been a happy child, but now all he did was mourn. He was wilting right before her eyes, making her heart ache. The outside world was becoming darker and colder, causing even more worries. The queen was aware of a way to help the prince, but it was so drastic she was hesitating to go through with it. Eventually, however, she made the hard decision to carry out her plan, for the little prince would only get worse.

The queen ascended into the tower of the prince. She found him there, just looking at the fire, though he wasn't present, just a husk. It was breaking her heart. She walked to her son and enclosed him in her embrace. Gently she stroked his hair and hummed a lullaby. The prince felt almost lifeless in her arms. This made her even more confident to go through with her plan. Her hands were getting colder until they were covered in thin ice. The queen freed her son from the embrace and looked at his face; it was reflecting pure sadness. She gave him a weak smile before she pressed her hand against the prince's chest.

The coldness was gathering around the little prince's heart. The frost was freezing it completely, turning it into just a chunk of ice. But with a heart of ice, you won't be sad anymore, this was the queen's solution. The ice went deep inside the prince's chest and it was likely nothing could ever melt it away. But that was the price the queen was willing to pay.

What the queen had done was working as she had expected. The little prince wasn't ridden by sorrow anymore and he had finally left his tower. He resumed his daily activities, making him seem like his older self, but this wasn't exactly true. He had become expressionless. Gone were his joy and playfulness and an adventurous spirit. He was calm and collected, but in a way, these traits made him better fit the role of a ruler. But still, he truly had become a cold-hearted person.

But in his mother's sad eyes, she had got her son back. He was living, eating, going outside. She felt no guilt over what she had done. The little prince was her perfect little boy and that was all that mattered; utterly blind to the truth that he was just a shade of who he used to be.



[b]DAY 19: CARVED GRIN – GOOD BOYS SMILE[/b]

“You need to smile, always. No matter how you feel or what your opinions are, you have to keep smiling so you can confuse your opponent.”

It was what Niarfen's mother was constantly telling to the little boy. But how could he possibly smile when he was sad and miserable all the time? Still, he tried, in fear of mother's harsh punishments. But his attempts were never good enough, making his mother disappointed and angry. Her wrath was bad enough, but the worst ones were physical punishments. At a very young age Niarfen had learned to not go against his mother's will for he would definitely regret it later. He tried his best to maintain a smile in front of other people and seem like a fine young man in the eyes of the elite. But apparently, he wasn't doing this well enough in the eyes of his mother. And one day, she snapped at him, executing the worst punishment yet.

His mother had grabbed a knife and with this tool, she cut Niarfen's face. She carved a smile on his skin and flesh that would go from ear to ear. Now he would smile all the time, just like the mother wanted. This mutilation was a permanent reminder for Niarfen to do exactly as his mother says. He used to have quite a handsome face, but now, the hideous scar made him less desirable in the eyes of others. It hurt Niarfen deeply, but there was nothing he could do.

He grew up to become a silent man with sadness in his eyes. His world was a dark and lonely one, mostly thanks to the webs of his mother. However, one day something great happened that improved his life: Niarfen's mother died. He felt this overwhelming relief wash over him for the horrible monster that had controlled every single thing in his life was now gone for good. During the funeral, Niarfen actually smiled genuinely for the first time in years. Seeing the coffin lowered into the pit where it would stay until the end of days was a moment of joy to Niarfen. She would plague him no more. Or that's how he thought.

But he learned soon that getting rid of the mother's influence was harder than he had previously anticipated. She was still there, whispering into his ears from the shadows, judging every single thing he did, mocking him, making him feel like he wasn't worth anything. At night, she would weave nightmares inside his mind. And wherever he walked, he could feel her eyes following him, even though nothing was there. All this felt like an illness and Niarfen had no idea where to find a cure for it.

It was slowly making him insane. For a moment he had held festivities in his manor, but was now completely withdrawn from them. His sudden disappearance from publicity puzzled the elites of the region and all sorts of rumors started to spread. Niarfen became like a restless ghost that wandered around the manor, losing his mind bit by bit.

One stormy night, Niarfen was again strolling through the halls of his manor. The rain was abundant, the wind was howling like a beast and the occasional lightning strikes illuminated the manor's dark halls. Niarfen couldn't sleep, he had tried but there was a shadow observing him by the side of his bed. He wandered aimlessly, currently going through a hallway where portraits of his many ancestors were decorating the walls. He looked at their stern and cold faces. None of them smiled. This observation caused something to break in the tormented and exhausted mind of the young man. He fetched a knife and started to carve smiles on the portraits of his ancestors, making them look like his mutilated face. Why had his mother been so adamant about smiling if all of the predecessors were allowed to remain expressionless. It wasn't fair. Niarfen ruined every single portrait that depicted an ancestor, but after he had done this, he didn't really feel better.

He fell on his knees on the floor, ridden by despair. How could one break free from the shackles of lineage? Was there a life worth living for someone like him? He didn't know, he didn't know anything. It seemed like the shadow of his mother would always be there. Even at that moment, she was floating behind him as a dark shadow, mocking him for being so weak.

Niarfen wept as the sky mourned for him. He felt so utterly hopeless. But even in that moment, he smiled. Because that's what good boys do.



[b]DAY 20: SCRAWLED MESSAGE – MEET ME AT MIDNIGHT[/b]

The sun was about to set, painting the world with warm colors. From the window of his room, Rasane was impatiently watching the fading of the daylight. He was tense, energetic, waiting for the moment when darkness would shroud everything in its gentle velvet. Because tonight, Rasane was about to change his life, permanently, leaving behind every familiar thing, except for one. The young man paced around his room as if that would help the time march forward more quickly and occasionally gave a glance at a piece of paper he had received earlier that day. The handwriting wasn't the prettiest, but it didn't matter since it was still readable.

TONIGHT, AT MIDNIGHT. MEET ME AT THE NORTHERN BRIDGE. WE WILL BEGIN OUR GRAND ADVENTURE.

SHAYU

A wide smile spread across Rasane's face. Shayu was the most important person in his life. Sure, he had his family, but his connection with Shayu was something else. They had known each other since little kids, playing around the village and coming up with adventures. As the years went by, their bond just became stronger. Rasane admitted that he was in fact infatuated with Shayu, although he wasn't sure if his friend harbored the same kind of feelings. Still, Rasane would do absolutely everything for Shayu and if his friend thought that tonight they would leave behind their former lives and start the adventure they had been dreaming about, so be it. Rasane was ready.

Slowly but surely the nighttime came. Rasane was becoming more and more eager to leave, but waited until it was close to midnight. When he was sure the time was right, he snuck out of his room, having just a backpack that contained a few useful items. He had left a letter on his bed for his family, explaining what he was about to do. As silently as a shadow, he left his home, never coming back.

As expected, most of the villagers were asleep. Rasane had no trouble sneaking around the village, heading to the north. He was pretty sure he had managed to get through without being seen by anyone. He reached the bridge Shayu had mentioned in his message, but Rasane didn't see him yet. Rasane didn't cross it, he wanted to do that together with his dearest. While waiting, he stared into the water that was flowing slowly, having no rush to anywhere.

Then Rasane heard rustling from nearby bushes. Excitedly, he shifted his gaze at the direction where the sounds were coming from, having high hopes that it was his friend. Who else could it be at such a late hour? But he got severely disappointed that it wasn't Shayu, it was some foreign man. Almost as soon as Rasane saw him, he could sense that there was something wrong with him. He was taller than any person Rasane had ever seen, concealing his body in a thick black robe. He had a hood over his head, but his face was visible, showing the many scars that had been carved on his skin. But his eyes… There was something very unnerving about his dark eyes, it almost looked like there was a hint of red in them.

“Oh, my, what is a boy doing here this late?” the man rasped out.

Rasane felt anxious by his presence, but decided to remain still, hoping that Shayu would come soon. “I'm waiting for a friend, sir.”

“He's not coming.”

These words shocked Rasane and he looked at the man. The creepy stranger was showing rows of sharp teeth as he smiled.

“How do you know?” Rasane asked cautiously.

“Because I ate him. And now I'm going to eat you too.”

The man attacked suddenly, Rasane didn't really have time to react. The man took a firm grasp on both of Rasane's arms, holding them in place; he was unnaturally strong. He struck his mouth at the young man's neck, sinking his sharp teeth on his skin and flesh. Rasane screamed and tried his best to struggle as the man violently shredded his neck to the point he tore open Rasane's throat. His blood was flowing out of him, staining the ground. The young man let out a series of pathetic gurgles as he couldn't breathe anymore. He succumbed to his fate.

The strange man's jaws defied the limits of human physique and he opened his mouth wide like a snake, able to devour the young man's body. Nothing was left behind, except blood on the ground. Then the man just vanished, leaving no traces.

Rasane's family would never know what happened to him. But some people started to whisper about a ghost of a young man that lingered around the northern bridge, waiting for something. But the one he was waiting for would never arrive.