Withered leaves dress the ground

Not a crinkle left by,

In this cloak,so formed

The rook,in all its glory,

Stands tall..

Upon an unclaimed territory,

This piece of land..

The seas send her way,

Icy winds,

Lashing against her feeble form

She shivers,as she looks up,

Defying her own self,kneeling down,

Beheld by the ancient wonder,this castle,

While sure as she is of it,

The daemon keeps watch..

Quietude for this night,

Its promise broken,

Her insipid self,

Refusing to be moved tonight,

A night,as a solitary spirit,

On this deserted moor,

The promise slowly fades away.

Footsteps now replaced

By the clinking of chains,

Chains,wound over her wrists,

all the way,

to her gown..

Another gust of wind,

Ripples her hair,

Words,yet to break the night’s silence

Having grown weary of the darkness,

The stars alone to dispel it,

She watches his hands,

Work up the chains,

Link pairs together

Fire,not a characteristic end,

Neither a slit throat,

“Why him,then?” ,she muses to herself

This stranger now holds her up,

Discreet steps walked,

She follows in his wake..

The postern now reached,

He stops.

“Your safety,my precedence”

All that leaves his lips.

The hallway now lit with torches,

She faces him,

Those eyes…..

Their depths….

So often had she delved into them…