Ilya gingerly brushed their fingertips over the engraved covering of the silver locket in their hands.

They had found it while they were cleaning up their new accommodation, a shabby make-shift bedroom in the attic of a farmhouse belonging to their Aunts, Matilda and Jocelyn.

When asked, Matilda had told them that it must have belonged to their grandmother, Matilda's mother, and was most likely a wedding gift given by their grandfather. She had said it was alright to keep it, as by inheritance Ilya was their most likely successor.

Turning the simple but elegant locket over and over in their hands, Ilya wondered just how exactly their grandfather had the money to afford such a thing. Their family had money, but never enough to be called wealthy, and the locket seemed to be of very fine make.

Maybe if they figured out how to open it…

As if sensing their thoughts, the locket snapped open, causing Ilya to gasp and drop it onto the floor.

The locket bounced harshly against the floor, but was thankfully unharmed. Ilya carefully plucked it from the floor and examined it, only to be stunned.

A delicately crafted clock face ticked ever so slowly and smoothly, completely unaffected by the neglect and aging of the world around it. Predominantly silver with hints of gold and other metals peeking through the stylishly exposed cogs and the small crystals signifying the hour positions, the locket had shot up in value almost immediately, bringing with it more questions than answers.

Carefully running their fingers over the clock hands, Ilya caught sight of the delicate and masterful engraving on the lid.

'Amorea mortuus sum'

Ilya mouthed the words, unsure of their meaning. Before they could search for it however, a heavy feeling descended onto their body, making it hard to think and leaving them gasping for air. It felt like the space around them was collapsing and reforming along with them, a dizzying and frankly horrifying experience.

An unknown amount of time passed before the feeling vanished, bringing with it a sweet sense of freedom they had never really appreciated before. Ilya had only just righted themselves before being subjected to yet another shock.

They were no longer in their shabby bedroom.

Instead, they were inside a broken down and abandoned room. Broken furniture and the remains of a tattered four-poster bed spoke of the opulence the supposed bedroom had once held, but it had all been lost to time. The paint and plaster was peeling off the walls, revealing the gray stone bricks underneath. The hardwood floor had rotted in some places and had just completely caved in the others. The only seemingly intact space was where Ilya was standing right at that moment, just a bit away from the bed and in front of a stone structure that could have been a fireplace.

Not wanting to take any chances, Ilya carefully maneuvered their way towards the doorways on the other side of the room, completely open now that the doors had fallen off their hinges.

The creaks and groans of the wood floor whenever they stepped on it had sent a rush of coiling anxiety and building fear through their body each time, but they thankfully managed to make it to the other side.

The state of the hallway wasn't much different than the state of the room, but it was admittedly much neater in condition. Thick layers of dust covered the floor and the moth bitten carpet, peeling paint and plaster, cobwebs stringing down from the high ceilings. None of the furniture seemed to be destroyed, however. Some old candle holders had been knocked over, but the level of destruction seen from the bedroom made the hallway seem odd by comparison.

They slowly made their way through the winding hallways, gawking at the suits of armor and yellowing paintings. Wherever they were, it was beyond obvious that no one had been there for a long time now.

Ilya only stopped when they came to a grand staircase. If they were lucky, it could lead them outside, and hopefully back to normal civilization. They were about to descend with renewed vigor, only to be stopped by catching sight of something peculiar.

At the front of the staircase stood a large painting, spanning the majority of the wall. Spotted and worn in some places, it depicted a standard nuclear family, albeit dressed much more extravagantly. A warmly smiling mother, a stern but caring father, a mature and responsible older sister, and finally, a bright and cheerful younger brother.

Usually, Ilya would have just thrown a cursory glance of curiosity at such a painting. There were several all over the hallways they had traversed, though none had any human subjects. The curiosity had long turned to confusion when Ilya had realized that the young boy was familiar.

In fact, it felt as if Ilya was looking at a mirror. Warm brown eyes, curly brown hair, sun-kissed skin. The curve of his eye brows and the way he smiled seemed so eerily familiar. But at second glance, they began to spot the differences.

The boy's face was smooth and unblemished, but Ilya had a smattering of freckles across their nose and shoulders, trailing down to their elbows. Ilya had dimples, but the boy did not.

This, however, seemed to make things even more bizarre, as the differences had sparked the image of a man that they hadn't thought of in a while.

Ilya's grandfather, unlike their grandmother, had passed away during their early teens, so Ilya had a lot of fond memories of the other. He had a very cheery disposition, and loved the world so whole-heartedly. The story of how he had met his wife was a very popular one amongst the people of the town their grandmother grew up in, so they knew it well.

A young man, drenched from the heavy rain and reeling from the big accident that had taken his family's life, had appeared on the doorstep of an honest young farmer girl. The farmer, concerned for this stranger's well being, had immediately rushed him to the nearest hospital all through the rain. Then, after the man had recovered, he had expressed his gratitude by working on the farm with her, eventually leading to a love that lasted even until their deaths.

Later, their grandfather had told them that it was their grandmother who took him in, as most of his material possessions were lost along with his family, and loving her so fiercely was his way of paying back the kindness shown to him.

One thing of note was that he had never answered any questions about his family. Apart from throwaway statements of 'My mother quite liked foods like this', or 'My sister always used to chide me for acting so recklessly', no one knew anything about his family.

The painting in front of Ilya seemed too good to be true. It was most likely that they were mistaken. Their similarities were uncanny, but it wouldn't be the first time someone had met another who looked too similar to themselves.

Escaping from the building had a much bigger priority, so Ilya stepped back and descended the staircase, waving away their feelings of uncertainty and anxiousness.

The stairs lead to a decrepit grand hall. Their urgency to find a way out had them only throw a cursory glance at the interior, but nothing stood out too much. One of the grand doors to the hall had been left open, allowing in the warmth of sunlight and a drafty breeze, which had Ilya lighting up with hope.

When they stepped out, however, they were greeted by a breath-taking sight.

A giant garden, overgrown with all sorts of flowers spanned the entirety of their vision. All forms of vines and moss crawled across the gray stone walls of the abandoned castle that Ilya had been in just moments before. The scent of earth and nature was overwhelmingly present here, and each breath allowed them to take in a sweet fresh air that they had never tasted in their farm back home. The flowering plants had crawled up over the large staircase, almost reaching up to where they stood, perfuming the air with a soft and sweet smell.

The beautiful sight however, only brought horror to Ilya.

Chances are, they were very, very far away from home.

They had just begun to give in to the terror when an odd sound reached their ears.

“Prince?” It sounded slurred and quiet, like the hissing of a snake.

“Seems to be. I wonder why he's back,” Another voice sounded, similar to the first but with a weariness in its tone, “There's nothing here anymore.”

“Excuse me?”

Ilya whirled around, trying to spot the owners of the voice. They were desperate for some answers, for some way to go back. “Who are you? Could you please help me?”

“Down here, Prince Illiard.”

Ilya looked down, only to scream and stumble back.

A pair of snakes coiled lazily near the doors, watching with predatory eyes.

“Oh, how rude. And he asked for our help, too!” The snake that had presumably spoken first scoffed, laying back down again.

“Dear,” The other snake huffed softly, “I don't think that is our Prince.”

Turning back towards Ilya, the snake spoke softly. “Child, what is your name?”

Ilya slowly gathered themselves, the desire to go home slowly outweighing the insane notion of speaking to a snake. “Ilya.”

“Now dear, what relationship do you have with Prince Illiard?”

This caused their brow to furrow in confusion, “My grandfather? Why are you calling him-”

Realization struck.

This castle, with its worn down interiors, the painting with the boy that looks like him, the locket.

Ilya scrambled through their pockets in a panic. They hadn't given a thought towards the locket, more occupied by the place they had found themselves in. Their frenzied panic increased with each pocket they checked, finding them completely empty.

“Oh, you are our Prince's grandchild? How nice. Come to visit your place of origin, did you?” The nice snake continued, seemingly oblivious to Ilya's actions. The other snake perked up a bit, seemingly interested in this new revelation.

Their searching continued until they unexpectedly brushed their chest, feeling something hard pressing against it. They followed the feeling and had found a chain around their neck, with the locket in place neatly as if nothing had happened.

“How…”

The grumpy snake perked up even more at the sight of the locket. “Darling, look. It's the Royal Insignia, it really is the offspring of our prince!”

Ilya swallowed nervously, but the questions that had been building up since the start of this fiasco finally seemed to find an outlet. “Eh, ahem. Where am I, exactly? If you don't mind me asking.”

“You are currently standing at the northern entrance of Poincere Castle. A century ago, this place had been the home of the Royal Family of La'marre.” The snake that had been speaking to Ilya the entire time, with beautifully colorful stripes curiously slithered over. “There was a betrayal, and a rebellion that led to the death of the entire Royal Family and the destruction of the Kingdom of La'marre. Prince Illiard had barely escaped with his life.”

Astonishment clouded their features. The entire story seemed almost unbelievable, like a novel or a fairytale. Their kindly and cheerful grandfather being the prince of a kingdom, who ran away to escape a rebellion? No one in their right mind would believe such a thing. But Ilya was experiencing it first hand, told to them by a pair of talking snakes.

“So… How do I… How do I get back?”

The snakes looked at each other.

“Well, the way you came from, of course?” The grumpy snake looked disbelieving.

“But, I was transported here. With the locket.”

The snakes stared at Ilya.

They unconsciously shifted from one foot to the other under the scrutiny of the pair. “I- I just found the locket while cleaning, so I was fiddling around with it to see what it was, then it popped open, and then I…”

The locket they were fiddling with snapped open almost on command. Ilya started, but it was a bit better than before.

“...Then I read the words engraved here…”

Ilya cautiously showed the locket to the snake that was curiously slithering around them. The snake let its tongue flicker over the clock face before sighing in disappointment.

“Oh child.”

“What? What's wrong?”

“This artifact, it's already been drained.”

“What!?” Ilya was shocked. What did that mean?

“It means that, until you power the locket again, you are stuck here.”

Ilya's world came crashing down all in the matter of a few seconds.

The cover image was created in Canva!