Peeking out of the window, Cora's curiosity turned to horror.

Six men, all in dark robes, were approaching the castle that Cora stood in. Their skin was dark, like the night shy illuminated above.

Cora opened the window so she could watch them as they approached. Her dirty blonde hair fell into her small face again and again, but she barely noticed.

As she watched, she couldn't help but wonder if any of the figures were her mother.

The king, Cora's abusive father, told her that the Queen, her mother, ran away after Cora was born.

Her heart ached whenever she thought of her. She longed to know what it was like to have someone to take care of her. She couldn't help but wonder who she was. Where she was. If she'd come back.

The seven-year-old princess heard the castle doors open faintly.

Cora placed a jacket over her nightgown and threw open her bedroom doors.

As she finished running down the first flight of stairs and placed her foot on the next step, she froze.

She grew scared as she thought about her options.

Cora could easily run back upstairs and escape possible trouble. Or she could continue heading down the staircase and overhear the conversation containing these mysterious guests.

As the princess weighed her options, her leg bent the wrong way. A white-hot pain filled up her leg like a balloon filling up with helium.

Cora collapsed, tears streaming down her face. The agony was unbearable for her.

And she closed her eyes, for what she thought was the last time.

🗡🗡🗡🗡

Cora opened her eyelids. They felt heavy, like miniature weights were placed upon them.

She sat up. Pain once again raced through her leg, but it was more bearable from before.

Cora looked around. She was no longer in the stairwell. There were dark cells surrounding her, with blood staining the walls and the rough floor. An odd oder filled her nostrils. It was frigid inside of here. The dungeon, she thought to herself.

"He-hello? Is anyone in here?" Cora squeaked, struggling to stand up.

Pain built up in her leg again.

"It must be broken." Cora thought to herself.

She grabbed a rock that was a couple of inches away. Wincing, she ripped a part of her jacket, and started making a makeshift cast. Cora placed the rock under her foot and used the ripped jacket to tie up her leg.

She took a careful step. The pain was very much controlled now, as the rock gave it the support it needed.

Suddenly, the banging sound of a cell slamming shut filled the room.

Cora screamed and almost fell. A pale, transparent something was approaching. Fear bubbled up in her chest as she remembered the ghost stories her father would tell.

As the ghost came closer, her features were easier to see. She was a tall, thin woman with light hair and blueish-greyish almond eyes. The woman had high cheekbones and full lips.

"Are yo- You're a- ghost!" Cora stuttered, backing away, "Spea- spe- speak to me."

The woman shook her head.

Anger spread through her, temporarily taking over her fear.

Cora ran towards the door and tried to force it open. The black dungeon door stayed as firmly shut as before.

Her eyes shone with tears. Cora's eyes were odd. They were a dull grey color, which was flecked with gold that looked like gold leaves.

Cora desperately slammed her shoulder into the door, but all that did was make it ache.

"Get me out of here!" She shrieked; all hope already lost.

The ghost slowly drifted toward her.

"Get away!" Cora cried, trying to crawl away.

The woman pointed at a wall that was opposite of where Cora laid.

She shakily stood up, ignoring the increased pain in her leg.

"Do you have something to show me?

The ghost nodded.

"Is it written on the wall?"

She nodded again.

"Are you able to talk?"

The woman shook her head.

"Alright then."

Cora headed toward the wall. She was still working on her reading, but she could make out the words:

𝒜𝒷𝒾𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓁 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓂 𝒹𝒾𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓃 𝒪𝒸𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝟥𝟣, 𝟣𝟫𝟦𝟫

"Hey, William is my last name!" Cora exclaimed, happily inspecting the wall, "And I was born five days before this date! How strange."

The ghost silently sighed.

She glided over to Cora, and pointed to the name "Abigail William", and then to herself.

Cora was confused. She idly wondered if the ghost had lost her mind.

But then it clicked. The young princess stared at her, stunned.

"You're Abigail William!" Cora gasped.

Abigail smiled at her.

"Do you know a way out of here?"

She shook her head.

"Are you stuck in here?"
She solemnly nodded.

"Who murdered you? Why?"

She stayed silent and drifted away.

"Wait! Please don't go!" Cora exclaimed, the tears in her eyes returning.

When Abigail didn't come back, Cora curled up in a ball. Her hair lay in curls around her face.

Yelling in frustration, Cora picked up a rusted, silver knife and swiped at her hair.

Rings of blond hair now laid in a circle around her. She gathered the remaining hair that stuck onto her head in her fists and cried.

Not beautiful crying like you see in movies. Crying as in barely being able to keep on going. Crying as in your eyes are sore and your head aching from pulling on your hair. Crying as in being drained of all happiness and joy.

And she drifted off to sleep with a new plan in mind.

🗡🗡🗡🗡

In the dungeon of Düston, there is a window that looks like a vent to most. Thanks to living in this castle her whole life, Cora knew better and how to open it.

The only challenge was getting up there. With a broken leg and very few objects, it would be insanely difficult.

But when she woke up, she had more determination then possibly anyone alive. She was going to get out of here and not fail.

The window was about twelve feet over Cora's head.

"Pretty far up," Cora muttered to herself.

She only had two options. She could try to parkour up a cell, but risk possible permanent damage to her leg. Or she could stack multiple objects on top of each other and climb up it, but risk falling and breaking something else.

The decision was easy. Cora ran into the cell directly below the window and started climbing.

Something that Cora forgot was that she doesn't have that good of upper body strength. Her arms and hands were already aching. She struggled on finding a place to put her good leg down, so her support lacked.

But she kept on climbing. Excitement filled up her empty stomach.

I'm getting out of here! I'm getting away from this ghost forever! She repeated in her head, which motivated her.

But suddenly, she couldn't find a place to plant her foot. Her sweaty hands clutched onto the cool metal bars, her legs dangling in midair.

She was so close... if only she could reach the window... she raised one hand up... reaching, gripping... she could feel herself slipping...and she fell...

On the bed. On her broken leg.

Cora yelled in agony. Boiling heat was against her back, which was leaning on the stone wall.

Clutching onto her leg, she cried. It was hurting her so much.

Suddenly, she felt movement at her back. Her cheeks wet with tears, she turned around to see a revealed door just large enough for Cora to squeeze through.

A hot breeze blew into her face as she finally left the castle's dungeon.

🗡🗡🗡🗡

Fire. That's all she could see. Fire engulfing the castle, the kingdom, everything. Fire burning the only place she's ever known.

Abruptly, Cora could feel ropes tying her arms and legs together. She struggled, but it was useless. The ropes were like iron, or steel. So hard she couldn't fight it.

"Who are you?!" Cora shouted, as the person turned their attention to tying her to a stiff, wooden chair.

The person slowly came into view. He wore a dark robe that flowed behind him, and had dark, burned skin. Dangling from his waistband was an axe. It was one of the people Cora had seen outside her window.

"Marcus Parker. I am working for the queen." He grinned, running a finger down the grip of his axe.

"The queen is gone!" Cora cried, watching the fire slowly burning in a circle around them.

"She might be, but her ghost isn't. You know, the ghost of the dungeon."

Cora felt like her heart dropped into her stomach.

Abigail William was her mother? She couldn't believe she didn't see it coming.

"She ordered an execution on you. I just thought I would make it more enjoyable." Marcus says, gesturing to the fire around them. He slowly removed the axe from his belt.

Cora's mother was the real villain of her story.

"I'm her daughter! She wouldn't...she can't..." And there was a sharp pain in her neck, which was the last thing she ever felt.