From the Past to the Present

I imagine the first thing you think of as you gaze through this archway overlooking the fields below is what a beautiful view. Those were my thoughts as well the day I was locked in this room four-hundred years ago. After all, there are worse places to be held prisoner in this castle, the dungeon where many of my compatriots were held is first on my list. I’d love to share my story, but I know you can’t hear me. No one has ever heard my cries for help, not since that wicked wench cast her spell on me.

My chamber is a place of eerie stillness, its walls adorned with faded tapestries depicting scenes of forgotten lore and ancient rites. One magical wall allows me, Lord Aldric, to gaze out upon the sprawling green fields and distant mountains that surround Chepstow Castle. Yet, despite my vantage point, no one can see into my prison. The curse ensures that my torment is mine alone to bear.

Time within the chamber flows differently. Days blend into nights, and seasons shift without warning. The air is thick with the scent of damp stone and aged wood, and the faint echo of distant footsteps sometimes reach my ears—footsteps that cease the moment I attempt to approach the door. No guard comes to check on me; here I’m a forgotten relic of a bygone era.

Occasionally, the witch's magic manifests in subtle ways. The shadows on the walls seem to move of their own accord, whispering secrets in languages I once knew but have since forgotten. Objects in the room shift positions when my back is turned, and the temperature fluctuates erratically, from biting cold to oppressive heat. Yet, despite these manifestations, the curse prevents me from escaping or even comprehending the full extent of my predicament.

In my solitude, I reflect on past events—my rise to power, the alliances I’ve forged, and the enemies I made. The witch's cryptic words before my capture: "Power is but a fleeting shadow; only the cursed remain eternal." Haunt me, for they suggest that my imprisonment is not merely a punishment but a twisted form of immortality.

As the years stretch on, my mind teeters on the brink of madness. I’m left to ponder whether the witch's curse is a final act of vengeance or a cruel gift—an eternal existence in a world that has long since forgotten me.

The sun has risen to its apogee, and I’m poised for yet another afternoon of playing hide and seek with the ever-shifting furniture when an unusual sound reaches my ears. It’s a sound I’ve not heard in more than three-hundred years—a child’s voice. She is young and as beautiful as a piece of art. I gaze in disbelief because not only can I see her, but she can see me. I remain frozen in place terrified that even the blink of an eye will cause the child to vanish. But, instead of vanishing, she speaks to me. “My name is Emily, what’s yours?”

Every cell in my body quivers as I attempt to use a voice that hasn’t made a sound in several hundred years. The noise that emerges from my mouth sounds more like the caw of a crow than a human voice, but I continue to try. “I’m Aldric from Cumbria. How can you see me little one?”

My heart trembles as Emily's words hang in the air, a fragile thread connecting me to a world I thought lost. The chamber, once a prison of solitude, now feels alive with the presence of this mysterious child. Her gaze, filled with wonder and innocence, meets mine with an intensity that stirs something deep within me.

"I don't know how I can see you," Emily continues, her voice soft yet unwavering. "But I do." She steps closer, her tiny footsteps echoing in the vast, empty room. I watch her approach, breathless.

"Why are you here?" I ask, my voice is still rough from disuse. "What do you want from me?"

Emily pauses, her brow furrowing in thought. "I think... I think you need help." Her words are simple, yet they carry a weight that resonates within my soul.

My mind races. Could this child be the key to breaking the curse that has kept me bound for centuries? Or is she another illusion, a fleeting figment of a desperate imagination?

"But how can you help me?" I ask, voice tinged with skepticism.

Emily smiles, a gentle, knowing smile. "I don't know yet." She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small, glowing stone. It pulses with a soft, ethereal light, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

"What's that?" my curiosity piqued.

"This is a piece of the moon," Emily explains. "It’s been in my family for hundreds of years. I’m told it has the power to reveal hidden truths." Taking a cautious step forward I ask, "May I see it?"

Emily hesitates for a moment before nodding and handing me the stone. The moment my fingers brush against it, a surge of warmth races through me. Visions flash before my eyes—images of my youth, my rise to power, my betrayal, and the curse that ensnared me.

"I remember now," my voice trembling. "I remember everything.”

The young girl suddenly disappears and in her place stands the witch who originally imprisoned me.

“I have kept you sheltered in this castle for these many centuries because of your special gift. A gift that will soon be needed to save the world. Are you ready to face your destiny Lord Aldric?”

Without hesitating I answered, “I am.”