Echoes of inverness
Finnegan's gaze met with the distressed maiden, her wide eyes filled with a mixture of fear and astonishment. Her voice trembled as she spoke, "Who... who are you?"
Finnegan offered a reassuring smile and introduced himself and Gareth, explaining their purpose—to seek adventure and fortune while smiting any darkness that dared to threaten their path. The words seemed to resonate with Elena, her fear giving way to a hopeful glimmer in her eyes.
As she shared her own name and story, Finnegan's heart swelled with empathy. Elena, a merchant's daughter, had been traveling with her father's caravan when tragedy struck. An ogre, accompanied by dark-cloaked priests of an evil god, had descended upon them. Her fellow travelers were either slain outright or taken captive, disappearing one by one at the hands of the malevolent priests.
"They took my father!" Elena's voice trembled with grief. "I fear he may be gone, but I must try to find him. Will you help me?"
Finnegan considered their options. They could embark on a perilous journey with Elena, but her safety would be at constant risk. Gareth voiced his concerns, suggesting they secure her in a hiding place while they continued their exploration.
Finnegan agreed, recognizing the dangers that could befall a defenseless merchant's daughter in this treacherous castle.
With determination, Finnegan set out to find a suitable hiding spot within the ruin. A few rooms away, a pile of rubble offered adequate concealment. Finnegan instructed Elena to stay hidden, assuring her that they would return.
"Stay still and quiet here. We will come back for you... If, by some chance, we do not return by morning, find a way to escape," Finnegan told her.
With one last reassuring look, Finnegan and Gareth left Elena behind, hoping that their plan would grant her safety and freedom.
The castle enveloped them in silence, darkness stretching out in every direction. As they stepped into a wide hallway, it split, offering two diverging paths. One was cloaked in a thick layer of dust, a testament to its long neglect. The other, in stark contrast, revealed a trail of footprints, hinting at recent activity.
Finnegan considered their next move, recognizing the importance of surveying their surroundings before venturing further.
Guiding their lantern with caution, they maintained a careful veil over its light, casting only slender beams to preserve their stealth. The path ahead was shrouded in dimness, and they navigated the remnants of the castle, stumbling over rubble and remnants of forgotten furnishings.
As they pressed forward, the cobwebs grew denser. Suddenly, a cry of alarm pierced the silence. It was Gareth, pointing his sword skyward, revealing a monstrous spider ensnared in a web of thick strands. The arachnid's lair was adorned with small, silken cocoons, likely containing its hapless prey.
With trembling hands, Gareth sheathed his sword and armed himself with a bow. Drawing a steadying breath, he fit an arrow, took aim, and released. The spider convulsed momentarily before crashing to the floor with a resounding thud. They moved forward with heightened vigilance, wary of the looming threat above.
After navigating further, they arrived at a spiral staircase, ascending into the upper sections of the castle. Gareth imparted his knowledge, sharing that such heights tended to offer greater safety in these malevolent domains.
"Why this preference for the upper levels?" Finnegan queried.
Gareth responded. "Who can fathom the minds of fiends and malevolent creatures? Perhaps they harbor a predilection for the shadows and stagnant air below ground."
With a sigh, Finnegan gazed up the stairwell. "Well, perhaps we can gain a good sighting of the courtyard and those goblins from up there."
Gareth led the way, ascending into a small tower bathed in the gentle glow of moonlight. The room's furnishings stood in stark contrast to the destroyed state of the rest of the castle. A neatly made bed occupied one end, accompanied by a stacked table and a bookshelf. Upon the table rested an open fairy-tale book and a hand mirror adorned with golden embellishments.
Finnegan's fingers grasped the mirror, examining it closely. Gareth observed the surroundings, noting the absence of dust and a curious draft in the air. "This place defies the ruin it resides in," he murmured.
Finnegan, studying his reflection, found solace in the sight of himself, a testament to his unwavering commitment to self-care. He brushed away the clinging cobwebs, revealing a contented smile and a set of well-maintained teeth. He knew that such attention to detail was a rare trait among his peers.
In the midst of preparing to steal the mirror, a chilling sight materialized in the reflection—a skull crowned with wisps of hair. The illusion shattered as Finnegan whirled around, only to face a young girl suspended a few feet above the ground, her face fixed intently on him.
"HOW DARE YOU TOUCH WHAT IS MINE!" the ghostly girl's voice echoed. Finnegan instinctively retreated, carefully placing the mirror back on the table. Tales of formidable spirits capable of draining life force flooded his thoughts, leaving him to wonder if this spectral ghost harbored such powers.
Finnegan bowed his head respectfully. "I... I apologize, my lady," he said sincerely. "It is only that this is such a fine mirror, and I wished to admire it."
The duchess, her gaze unwavering, studied him for a moment before her stern countenance softened. "I am the Duchess Wyvern. My father, the duke, gave me that as a gift."
Finnegan couldn't help but recall the tales surrounding Duke Wyvern and the enigmatic end of his lineage. Sympathy washed over him for the duchess, a spirit bound to this realm.
His eyes shifted to the books, a notion of shared interests between them. "And these books! Why, they look like excellent, err, stories in here," he stammered, suddenly grateful for his ability to read. The girl's command was clear; she wanted a story, and Finnegan complied.
He chose the book of fairytales and began reading. Her presence lingered, an ethereal companion to the tale. Suddenly, a chill brushed his shoulder. Startled, he glanced up and spotted Gareth peeking around the corner of the stairway.
With a subtle shake of his head, Finnegan signaled Gareth to stay hidden. He returned to the book, interested in the unicorn's tale.
The girl, engrossed in her state shared a secret;
"In my father's library, there is a statue. Push the arm of the statue down," she imparted, her voice bearing the weight of her knowledge.
Intrigued, Finnegan longed to inquire further, but the girl's impatient gesture redirected his focus back to the book. He read on, aware that time was inconsequential in her existence. His mind drifted to Elara and her father, the potential reward for their rescue, and the urgency to find them before darkness did.
Finnegan, showing deference to the spectral duchess, opted for a diplomatic departure. "Beautiful and gracious duchess, might I ask your full name?" he inquired.
The ethereal figure responded with a touch of melancholy, "Gabriella. Duchess Gabriella of Wyvern."
Finnegan bowed respectfully. "My lady. I beg your pardon, but there is a young woman in the castle below who requires my assistance. There are evil men. I suspect they threaten her life."
Without hesitation, the duchess urged him to go. "A maiden in distress? Why do you dally here then? Begone!"
Finnegan wasted no time, making his way toward the door. However, a sudden command from the duchess froze him in his tracks.
"WAIT!"
The weight of her voice sent shivers down his spine, compelling him to turn back. With an ethereal grace, the gold-trimmed mirror floated from the table to him.
"I cannot see myself in it anymore," she murmured, a hint of sadness in her words.
Finnegan, touched by this act of generosity from the trapped spirit, bowed low. "Generosity befitting a duchess. I thank you most humbly." With that, he took his leave, retracing his steps to find Gareth waiting just around the corner of the stairs, his sword poised for action.
Regaining his composure, Gareth began to pose questions, but Finnegan raised a hand to forestall him. "Another time," he insisted, his thoughts preoccupied with the young woman in need and the perils that undoubtedly awaited them. Their fate, intricately woven with the threads of destiny, rests on the choices they make within the shadowed confines of the castle.