CHAPTER 8

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MYRA

APRIL 2015

We walked back to the Great Hall, passing through the long passage.

The paintings provided around us were the only colour in the castle; otherwise, it was genuinely monochrome. Also, I still hadn't seen any rats or spiders, even though the site had been closed for centuries.

The image of the woman in the bridal gown and the man standing behind her kept flashing into my mind. It was something I would never forget. The man's presence was getting stronger the more I thought about him.

In the centre of the Great Hall, the ceiling was vaulted, with a beautiful chandelier capable of holding at least one thousand candles. A strong rope supported the chandelier and tied it to a hook at the room's left corner. When they wanted to light up the place, they would unhook the rope, which passed through a pulley, and slowly lower the chandelier to replace the old candles with new ones. The candles were the same as the ones I'd noted earlier—half-burned as if time had been frozen within the castle. It was like something tragic happened, which forced the residents to leave suddenly and with no preparation.

"As you can see, the Great Hall was used for the castle's everyday activity. The king would hold a court. The lords of every village and town came here quarterly to pay their taxes." Julia interrupted my thoughts when we reached the Hall. "The first Hue king—King David—was a kind and benevolent ruler. Later, when King Andrew invaded this castle and took the throne, the people around the kingdom started raising their voices against him. He imposed more taxes and brutal punishments for those who rebelled against him. Many farmers were killed by their lords. But they soon realised that killing the farmers wasn't a wise idea. It could create famine."

We roamed around the Hall. There was nothing more than some chairs for the royal family and a massive dining table at the eastern corner. There was a giant hearth, which held the charred remains of a log fire. It had been like this for six hundred years—untouched and unaffected by time. I walked closer to the hearth and knelt beside the charred wood. Julia was still talking to Steve and Tyler about the uniqueness of this place. I picked up one chunk of charred wood and smelled it.

"Hey, Steve, come here. Check this out," I called. All three of them came over to me. "See this...the smoky odour is still strong like someone burned this last night." Steve took the block of wood from me and sniffed it, examining it with concern. Tyler approached and took the piece of wood from Steve.

"This is weird, dude," Tyler exclaimed. "It looks like someone just used it. It's not even cold." He gulped in fear.

Something was cooking in Steve's mind. He stood up, opened his camera again and started clicking, taking pictures around the Hall. Checking the screen, he sighed in frustration. "What's wrong with this camera?" he blustered. He turned to Julia, who was watching all this silently. "Is there anything you know about this place that you'd like to share?" He closed his camera. "I don't like surprises, Dr Watson." His voice had an alarming power—he was using his family's name and influence.

At Steve's words, Dr Watson sagged. Tyler and I stood up, waiting for her to speak up.

"A priest in the nineteenth century recorded in his journal that every time he'd visit the castle, the hearths' fire was freshly doused. He had written the same thing that we see now."

"You mean someone is running the fire when no one is here?" I asked.

"Something like that," she answered quietly. "Also, there is a tower on the west side of the castle. It was once used as a torture room. The legends say that hundreds and thousands of innocent people were victimised in that tower for eight generations. When the workers started the restoration in the past, they said they heard screams from the tower. But when they reached there, it was just an empty room."

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