Dead Heart Longing by storieswithsoul

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A Lost Soul

The castle stood on the highest hill in a valley surrounded by the mighty Himalayas. From all four directions, you could see tiny houses and huts stretched as far as your eyes could roam uninterrupted by nature. Though calling it a castle would probably be wrong, it was more of a ruin of one. Yet, its vastness would leave you in awe.

On the outside, vines crawled on every wall. Shrubs and wildflowers overran the grounds. Trees of silver fir and blue pine scattered across the uneven landscape. Broken windows shuddered with each gust of wind. And the inside was bare of any furniture or sign that humans ever lived there. Cobwebs hung from walls, and dust coated the cabinets. Shadows lurked in the corners and monsters seemed to peek from each dark nook.

Locals avoided it, fearful of the ghosts and goblins that haunted the empty structure-a shell of its past glory. As magnificent as the sun in the sky on a cloudless day, once upon a time, the grandeur of its halls was unparalleled. Now, a husk of its former self, it was still standing. That alone was something of a marvel.

Back in the day, tourists frequented the place, but then it was deemed unstable and unsafe for viewing. She was a brave girl who dared to darken its corridors, for no one else bothered with the falling skeleton of an ancient castle. At least, not in the past decade or so.

"Look, you must come and see it for yourself," she was talking into the phone. "This place needs saving. It's a national treasure. Seriously, it might be the oldest standing building in the Himalayas. Imagine the benefits if we succeeded in getting it declared as such."

Her excitement grew with each word she uttered and her green eyes shone. Whether that too was a result of her eagerness or because of the afternoon sun, he couldn't tell. Everything about her was illuminated and to his eyes, she seemed like a phantom. Maybe he conjured her up with sheer will. No, he wasn't that imaginative. He quickly discarded the idea because she was real. More so than him.

It wasn't the first time an outsider came to the valley and fell in love with its history. Unfortunately, all previous efforts to get the place status of a historical site failed. It would take too many resources to restore the castle and make it safe enough for human viewing. It was practically falling apart, which made it dangerous, especially if you considered its location-at the edge of a steep hill with at least a hundred feet fall on three sides. And only one travelable dirt road leading in or out of its giant front gates.

"Don't you trust my judgment?" she said to whoever was on the other end. She waited for their response before continuing, "Times are different now. I'm sure it's possible. In this day and age, what isn't? We can even turn it into one of the hottest tourist destinations."

Whatever the other person said satisfied her. "Okay, that's settled then. I'll see you next week." Putting her phone back in her bag, she turned a corner and found herself in front of a doorway that barely reached her shoulders. She was a tall woman but that's not why the door seemed dwarfed in front of her. This particular door led to a small room, which in turn led to the dungeons. And it was deliberately constructed to make sure the entrants would lower their heads, thus, ruling out sneak attacks.

She stood there for a long moment, admiring the carvings on its wooden frame, still as sturdy as ever before. 'Not everything decayed at the same rate,' he mused. The invaders who came along the road of time might have stolen the jewels and gems, but the wooden door and window frames with intricate designs were no less precious. They were a testament to its past splendor. Dulled with dirt, they bespoke the craftmanship that existed hundreds of years ago.

He kept following her as she walked around and observed every nook of the castle's main building. Meanwhile, he observed her. She was the first person he had seen in centuries. At least, that's what it felt like to him. Time was no longer relevant to his existence. Even though she couldn't see or hear him, just watching her admiring his home was entertainment enough. Her presence in the ruins of his castle fascinated him. How long had he craved human interaction, and how many nights had he wished to gaze upon another face-any face, let alone a pretty one? She was his dream come true and his heart's deepest desire.

It wouldn't be easy to understand his reaction if you hadn't roamed the vacant corridors and halls of an abandoned, rundown castle for centuries. If you didn't know what it felt like to go from one empty room to another when you can't even sleep to seek a few hours of reprieve in your dreams. Unable to leave the place and cursed to remain invisible to anyone who came to study its ancient walls, Gesar was truly lost and utterly alone.

Some might consider immortality a blessing, but he knew it for the curse it was. Destined to walk on the earth in solitude, having no one to love or cherish, he spent one day at a time while avoiding the thoughts of what was to come. At first, he hoped to find peace in his pointless existence, but centuries of loneliness drained him of all his hopes. The only thing he felt now was a burning desire for revenge.

He didn't remember much from the time when he was alive. His sole vivid memory was of his gruesome death. Even after all these years, he could still feel the blade of a sword piercing his heart and the touch of its hilt clutched in his hands as he fell backward, down the hill, from the castle's tallest tower, into the dark abyss below. At least, he didn't remember hitting the rocks. Perhaps, he died before he hit the ground.

Gesar could vaguely recall running through these halls as a child and a sense of belonging was his only clue that this palace was once home to him. He had forgotten the faces of his family and friends, but he must have had those. Sometimes, when he thought hard enough about the past, he felt a sense of betrayal choking him and a longing to make someone pay for it.

"Shit!"

The curse brought his attention back to the woman in front of him. She sucked at her index finger. A splinter must have pierced it. Gesar felt a hollow ache in his heart, and a tear rolled down his ghostly cheek. Why he reacted to her discomfort in such an intense way was a mystery to him, but he had an uncanny feeling their paths were about to entangle in a way neither the god of mountains nor the goddess of fates could explain.