Castles Crumbling Novels & Stories

Their faces told a story of misery though. I walked around our car to stand by Troy’s side and tried to take in the sheer size of the castle. It was massive, three times the size of the mansion in Haverton, but on this side of the wall it was a little sad and disappointing. I expected beautiful, landscaped gardens, large water features, horses clip-clopping on cobbled pathways. Not this drab, vast, nothingness. Maybe it looked better in the daylight. “I told you this place is crumbling,” Troy said.

The escape from the Glacial Spire was a descent into a nightmare of falling ice and screaming wolves. The city of Crystalia, once the shimmering jewel of the North, was literally melting before our eyes. Without the High King’s ancient magic to anchor the enchanted frost, the grand spires were becoming brittle, groaning under the weight of a thousand years of history before shattering into lethal shards.

I yelled out angrily, I just can't believe this! I felt my world crumbling down before my eyes! All the things I've worked hard for, for years is falling into pieces in a few days. *** Blue Moon Pack is crumbling down to the extent that it was hard for it to be ignored. As more people leave the pack, more troubles and casualties began. The labours were ignored and everything was slowly getting out of place. I could only watch as all these happens. The half moon hung under the sky lonely as it shined it's ray at the inhabitants under his thrones.

When the raspberry juice spilled down my chin and I caught it with my fingertips, the mood immediate lightened and I joined Elizabeth in light laughter over my crudeness. “This part of the house is lovely,” I said as I boisterously licked my fingers. “It must have been a difficult decision to abandon it for the new wing. Of course the new wing is gorgeous as well.” I heaved a sigh of admiration as I said wistfully, “In my time, people only dream of living like this.” “The castles are gone?” she gasped. “No, most still stand, but times are different. Only a handful can actually afford to live in them. Many are forced to give tours to the public for payment in order to help them make ends m

“Georgia was never good for you. She made you weak.” “She made me human,” I shot back. Thunder rattled the windows. The chandelier shook, spreading shards of light across the carpet. Mary clutched her glass like a shield. My mother stood calm, regal, a queen sure of her justice. “You’ve always been dramatic,” she said. “This tantrum doesn’t change anything. Sign the papers, end this sham, and you can rebuild your life with someone worthy.” “I won’t sign anything,” I hissed. Her smile chilled me. “Then everything collapses. The board will vote you out. The press will bury you. And Georgia”

The name of the foundation was . Ruined or patched.

Fine dust and collapsed buildings surrounded me who was crouching on the ground. Slowly my eyes came back into focus but the ringing in my ears still echoed loudly in my head. I touched my throbbing head then tried to stand up from where I was huddled. My eyes hurt because of the dust that still drifted into my eyes. The scenery around me made my legs feel wobbly. The entire Balthazar castle had been razed to the ground. Shards and ruins of the walls lay all over the castle area along with broken furniture and items. I staggered to my spot and opened my mouth to call out Balthazar's name but the dust that filled my mouth made me cough.

Just as the dome was slowly succumbing to the relentless forces of nature and time, so too was he succumbing to the relentless onslaught of despair. The supporting framework, once a sturdy lattice of steel beams, was rusting, the metal eaten away by the corrosive elements of the outside world. The once bright, gleaming surfaces were now a patchwork of orange and brown, the paint flaking away in thick chunks, revealing the corroded metal beneath. He could see areas where the structural integrity was visibly weakened, where the beams were bent and twisted, showing signs of severe stress. It was a slow, creeping collapse, a silent erosion of the very structure that protected him, a visual alleg

I’ve been up for days planning this, researching the castle, figuring out the movements of the staff and guards, and for what? It might be enough, I think, as I walk down the street, cutting between alleys and crossing intersections until I reach a run-down block of apartment buildings near the outskirts of town. There was once a great crystal castle built in this same area, overlooking the lake and valley where the new city of Moonrise now rests. Now, it’s nothing but rubble and the forest has taken it back, new growth trees bending in the wind as the storm funnels over the lake.