It was almost pitch black except for the small dying candle Felice held out in front of her.  The smell of rot and must invaded her senses.  She held her dress up as she walked, trying to make out the unfamiliar tunnels.  Without the help of a servant, she quickly got lost in the deep forgotten regions of the castle.  The number of willing servants was dwindling but she couldn’t stand sitting alone in her room any longer.  The princess was not meant to go anywhere alone.  Now regretting her decision, she coughed out loudly as the dust that she kicked up filled her lungs.  Where she was going was unclear, but Felice knew she was in trouble now.  Everything was pitch black, every turn, every path she took looked exactly the same.  She was hopelessly lost.

            Felice trudged on, going in what felt like circles.  She tried not to let the fear get to her but it was proving to be difficult.  Her slippers dragged along the floor and she bumped something with her foot.  It was hard and made a small clatter as it rolled.  Looking down, her eyes went wide as she was met with a skull.  Just before she could scream she heard a footstep.  Her head shot up and the sight before her put her in shock.  Ten feet in front of her was a man holding a dim lantern, dressed in a plain black dress and a bird mask made of a material that looked like bone.  He appeared to be a doctor, but his clothes were torn and dirtied.  There was only black beyond the eye holes and he didn’t appear to be alive.  The image of the man was slightly obscured by the small amount of light reflecting off the strange fog surrounding him.  She could hear her heart pounding as the man took deep breaths.  Breathing heavily while chills covered her body, she stood still.  Seconds passed before she could finally get her body to move.  Moving her legs as fast as she could and gasping for breath, she let out a scream.  God must have been watching over her because a staircase came into view and she managed to not trip over her dress.  She followed the short staircase up, back into the lower levels of the castle.  The adrenaline in her veins gave her the strength to push the heavy black door shut again, closing the barricade over it.

            Felice threw her back against the door and looked around.  The lower levels of the castle were meant to be the quarters for the servants, but it was silent now.  The sound of conversation usually bounced off the low ceilings.  Today, only the sound of Felice’s heavy breathing would sound through the halls.  The castle was large enough for her not to run into the king or queen as she made her way back to her own quarters.  Her soiled dress would illicit too many questions for her scattered brain to answer.  Pushing on, she moved swiftly up the stairs towards the higher parts of the castle.  She briefly heard her fathers booming voice as he expressed his concerns about the kingdom.  Once she made it up to her own room, she locked the door. Carefully, she cleaned herself up, changing her dress and freshening her face.  She was still new to doing it all by herself but she managed.  Felice took one last look in the mirror, fluffing her petticoat and checking that everything was in place.  She made her way down the floors and down the long halls lined with wooden panels, into the dining hall.

            As she opened the tall heavy doors, the king and queen’s attention went to Felice.  “Good evening mother, father.” She said bowing in the doorway.  She made her way to the end of the table where her parents sat. 

       “Please, sit” her father instructed her.  Felice took a seat.  Her mother cleared her throat and gestured.  With that their meal began.  Other than the clatter of forks, the large ornate hall was silent.  Felica sat in fear, waiting for the moment her father would break the silence.  But the moment never came.  The displeased look was obvious on his face, and her mother kept her head down as to not get in the way. 

            The silence lasted until the sun went down.  Felice laid in her bed fighting the waves of exhaustion that threatened to take her.  The anxiety that built up over the day had grown too strong to let her sleep.  As much as she wanted the day to drift away, she couldn’t let go.  Despite being stowed away high up in the top floors of the castle on a grand bed with her quilt piled on, she couldn’t feel safe.  Her eyes began to flutter shut once again, but this time the quiet was broken by a harsh scream.  She recognized the high-pitched shriek as that of her mother.  Gasping, she shot up from her bed.  The echoing of the footsteps of guards could be hard marching up the stairs.  Ignoring that she was only clad in a thin blue nightgown, Felice raced into her mother and father’s room.  Her parents were safe in their bed but the mirror that sat at the foot of the bed was shattered. 

            “What happened mother? Are you ok?” Felice inquired fearfully.  Her mother didn’t speak, she sat with her head in her hands and the king comforting her.

            “We are unharmed,” her father answered softly in his deep voice, “Your mother is frightened, but I cannot imagine how this has happened.” He gestured towards the pile of glass shattered on the floor.  Felice turned her attention to the scene.  Making her way across the room, she looked at the window.  It was still closed.  As she turned away, in the corner of her vision, the man stood outside the window, cast in shadows from the moons light.  Her heart skipped and she gasped quietly as to not alert her parents.  But when she glanced back to get a secind look, he was gone.  She pushed her fear down past her heart and kept searching.  She kneeled besides the mess and focused in looking for any hints. Then, the guards came loudly through the door.  They dispersed, one to the king’s aid and one to the queen’s.  One group investigated and another took Felice by the arm.  She was escorted back to her room and shut in.  Knowing she had no other choice she climbed back into her bed and kept her eyes open until the sun begin to rise again. 

            As the sun climbed higher, Felice forced herself out of her bed.  Still unused to doing things by herself, it took her nearly twice as long to dress herself.  Beyond her room, in the wide lifeless halls, Felice strolled, making her way to the dining hall.  She passed a cupboard with the door wide open.  A sack of salt had spilled down the shelves and onto the floor in a large pile.  The princess looked around in search of someone to take care of the mess.  She had forgotten again that the people who monitored the castle were gone.  So she went on.  Just beyond her in a fork, she noticed a strange thick fog clung to the bottom of the path.  She leaned her head forward cautiously and peered out on either side.  She thought she saw a light at the end of one of the paths, but when she looked again it was gone.  She had experienced so much fear in the past days she was beginning to become numb to it.  Continuing her duties, she made her way on to the dining hall.

            After finishing her meal, she moved on to the throne room.  Three chairs sat at the end of the room.  The largest in the middle and two smaller ones on either side.  The largest was fit with a deep red fabric surrounded by golden embellishments and her father sat high upon it.  Beside him was her mother, and on the other side an empty seat waiting for her.  She took her seat and almost instantly the ceremony began.  A man dressed in nice clothing approached the thrones, bowing before the king.

            “Good morning your highness,” the man spoke. 

            “And to you Marcel,” The king greeted, “Speak. What news do you bring us today?” Standing tall, Marcel began to speak.

            “I’m afraid it’s no good.  The people of this land seem to be getting more impatient.”

            “What have they done?” The king was growing more irritated, “They’ve already rebelled, whispering in the ears of my servants, persuading them to leave in a poor attempt at a strike.  They’ve ignored the tax we’ve put upon them, leaving us dwindling.  So, tell me what they have done, if not burned this castle to the ground?”

            “It’s your collection sir. It’s been stolen.”  Marcel stated calmly.  The roar unleashed from the king made Felice’s face turn to him. 

            “You mean to say that they’ve taken everything? The gold, the weapons wielded by the greatest warriors, the diamonds worn by the fairest queens? Gone?  You leave here at once and find the party responsible so that God does not find you dead before nightfall!” The king boomed.  Felice’s face went white with fear as she imagined the hell her father would release upon the traitors.  As she stared at him she noticed a slight movement just behind him.  It was the doctor once again.  She watched as he took one long step with the lantern still in front of him.  But once she blinked, he had disappeared again.  Frantically, she whipped her head around the room.  She tried to search in every corner without bringing any attention to herself.  Luckily, everyone in the throne room only had their eyes on the king.  No one else so much as glanced at her on these long, bland days.

            “Your highness, you will be happy to hear we’ve found one of them.”  Marcel informed with a grin on his face. Two guards holding a man restrained between them entered through the large, decorated doors. 

            “Jean Matisse, your highness.  We found him trying to escape the scene.  It was a poor attempt, as you can tell.”  Marcel stepped aside as the man was brought before the king and shoved down onto his knees.  He had dark hair shorter than the royalty wore it, and his skin was tanned like a man who spent his days in the fields.  His clothes, however, resembled that of someone of a higher status.  He wore clean white clothing with red designs.  He was sweating and looking around the room, but he didn’t appear to be scared.  A moment passed and everyone watched the king.

            “One man? I have no time for this.  Lock him up and find me the rest of the conspirators.”  The king yelled.  Marcel stood for a moment.  “Now! Do I make myself clear?”

            Marcel moved with a quick pace, escorting the guards out and away to the lowest part of the castle.  The family sat for a moment in silence before another man dressed the same as Marcel entered.  He informed the king that there would be no other news for the day.  Now excused, Felice left the grand room and went on to her own quarters.  For the remainder of the day, she sat in her bed wrapped tightly in her quilts trying to calm the fire spreading in her mind.  She felt as if she was doomed for reasons she could not understand. 

       For the first time in days, Felice grew more and more tired and she drifted off into a deep sleep.  She slept, uninterrupted, dreaming of frightening scenes.  She found herself standing herself in her parents’ quarters by herself.  She called out for her mother, no one answered.  Then, she looked around to find she was in a field.  Dressed in one of her heavy, detailed dresses, the sun shone done on her back.  Everything was cast in a blinding golden light, making the plants look dried and dead.  She was sweating.  When she looked around, she found countless men working.  Picking an unknown crop with their thick calloused fingers at a slow pace.

       It lasted for an eternity before she began to regain her senses.  First, Felice heard a strange crackle accompanied by a roaring wind.  Her smell came back next, and her brain immediately registered what was happening.  Smoke began to cloud her senses, growing thicker and thicker.  It was dark outside; the whole day was gone and the night was to be filled with tragedy.  She threw herself out of her bed and put her slippers on before testing the handle.  Feeling no heat, she threw the door open.  At that moment she caught the doctor taking a long stride down the hall.  He glowed orange in the light of the unforgiving fire.  It spread higher and higher every second with fury.  Felice didn’t watch for a second longer and she quickly moved down the floors.  She made her way through the fallen beams and flames that littered the halls.  In the gaps burned between walls she caught the doctor several more times.  He would move forward, and then backwards.  He would be walking in front of her, and a moment later he would be beside her.   

       Felice reached the lowest floors before she found others evacuating.  Despite what it seemed, there were still poor men working within the castle, blind to the rebellion.  The orange illuminated their dirtied faces as they pushed and yelled.  As she looked within the crowd, she caught the doctor again.  He appeared in a different spot within the crowd every time she blinked.  A crowd was forming around the doors as the men tried to force their way out.  Maybe it was due to her plain night gown, but no one seemed to recognize her as the tragedy played out before her.  The hope began to drain from her as she tried to step around the crowd, but it only grew.  She heard the voice of Marcel high above the screams.  He yelled words at the crowd, instructing the people to exit through the door.  His speech only made more and more men flood in.  Between the yelling, the growing heat, and the thickening smoke, the princess felt dizzy.

            Felice began back up into the fire just to avoid the ever-growing hoard.  She could feel her back burning and the sweat dripping down her forehead.  Her vision was cloudy, and she felt a could hand wrap around her arm.  Just as she began to lose consciences, her limp body was yanked.  With what little vision she had left, she looked ahead and saw she had been pulled out of a window.  The ground was a short distance beneath her.  She landed on her back with a thud, and a dull pain followed.  Felice’s senses returned with the change of scenery and cold air.   She looked at the hand still attached to her arm and followed it to see a familiar face.  It was the criminal that had presented to the king earlier that day.  The yelling was dull, but fuller outside the castle.  She followed the sound and found a crowd of peasants standing before the entrance.  They held torches out in front of them.  They were dirty and sweating in the heat of the fire they had sparked.  They screamed unintelligible words with disgusting smiles on their face.  Her attention was pulled back to the man as he pulled her onto her feet.

            “Are you okay?” Jean asked.  It took her a moment to comprehend the situation.  She regained her balance and pushed the mans hand away before nodding.  Besides the riot, the night was cool and the sky was clear.

            “This way,” he stated plainly.  He ran off and Felice struggled to keep up with him.  Her attire was unfit for such a task and her body was tired from the trauma placed upon it.  But she moved.  By the grace of God her legs moved quicker and quicker. Ignoring the burn in her legs, she lifted her dress and moved besides Jean, running away from the castle on an unknown path.  She ran further and further, passed the gates of the kingdom, onto the plains and fields beyond.  Cast in the moonlight, small amounts of people were escaping through the gate and in the surrounding areas.

            Felice worried for the masses of people trapped inside.  She kept moving despite this, and the burn in her legs began to disappear.  She ran and ran like it was the easiest thing she had ever done.  She ignored her surroundings and went on, avoiding the death that followed her.

            Reaching a far away point with sparce huts and farms, they stopped.  Jean stood with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.  Felice stepped forward, seemingly unharmed, and took in the sight in front of her.  From here, the castle was nothing but a flame.  In front, where the village sat, had also been taken by the flames.  A cloud of deep black smoke rose high, blakcing out the stars.  From here, she could tell nothing was left of her home, or the village before it. She breathed heavily; her eyes wide as she watched.  She couldn’t look away.  Despite the death and the screams and the fear, she watched.  Turning her attention to the gates of the kingdom she watched as people, screaming, and burning, filed out.  One familiar man, however, took three long strides back through the gates, towards the fire, into certain death.