Palace in Pain

Dev wasn’t sure what to think as he and Astrid roamed the palace property, taking it all in. Set within a mysterious fog was the debris-covered land: uprooted pavers everywhere and an immense dead garden covered in spider webs. Rising above the fog were the palace’s towers, the largest in the center of a covered courtyard and one at each of four corners surrounding it. All of the towers were topped with weather-beaten bulbs like enormous onions, and all but the middle one had cracked and split. Two of the bulbs had fallen into such disrepair that they were in pieces that hung down like petals, revealing glimpses of ruined interiors. The whole property was an old, decaying mess.

It had been completely abandoned, or so it seemed. From the looks of it, nobody had lived here in a long time. The correct shapes were there to match the image in Dev’s head, but the palace was otherwise hardly recognizable from the glorious purple, orange, and gold image that had danced around the edges of Dev’s mind ever since he’d taken in the ancestor broth. All the splendor had drained out.

“I keep wondering what happened here,” he said softly, overwhelmed with disappointment. He berated himself for getting his hopes up so high. He never used to do that. Turning to his ghost dragon companion, he asked, “Do you remember what went on to cause this?”

Astrid sat on her haunches. The low part of her ethereal body blended in with the fog. Her neck curved around and downward, as if she were bowing to this mess. “Seeing it like this brings back the memory of those terrible days,” she said slowly. “I’d forgotten them for a blissful little while.” She paused, then added, “Sometimes forgetting is nicer than remembering.”

“What days?” Dev pressed. “Are you saying you know what caused this? You must tell me!” He was somehow devastated by the deterioration of this strange place, even though he had no memory or connection to it other than the image and his expectations. But he felt a strong tug at his heart when looking at the palace and property. This place was connected to him somehow. He’d never felt anything like this before. “I’m almost certain my ancestors died here,” he blurted out.

He didn’t know what had prompted him to say it. He’d been a slave in the castle Grimere his entire life and had never known his parents. He’d spent his years as a companion and whipping boy for Princess Shanti for as long as his memory served him. He’d known zero information about his mother and father, much less anyone else in his familial line who would have been alive when this place was destroyed. All he’d had were his black eyes to give him a clue. Until now.

There had been an image of a gray man in his mind too. Hunched over a small desk, his white-and-charcoal beard hanging down. Deep wrinkles in his gray-brown face. Ashes were sprinkled over his gray robe. Before this moment, Dev hadn’t focused on that image—the man was so gray and boring. Besides, Dev had no idea who he was. He’d chosen instead to dwell on the beautiful palace. But now the gray man came forward in his mind. Who was he? Why didn’t Dev have any memory of him, either?