The whole thing was absolutely sickening. I hated watching it but I was forced to endure it frequently. I was anything but a proper princess. I almost always did what "Wasn't ever done, my dear."

A spot of blood appeared on my bedroom wall. It slowly dribbled down to the floor. I watched it in my mirror and braided my hair into a coronet. Things like that had been happening for over 400 years, ever since the castle was invaded. Everyone native to the castle was killed gruesomely, as was most of the invading army. The castle floated in blood. Those who died never left the castle and they still bled.

I mostly ignored them when I was little because they were dead. I had more important things to worry about, like how to get out of those horrible pastel dresses my parents constantly shoved me into. It took me ten years to win that argument, ten years to wear a sensible outfit of black pants and a black shirt, as well as carrying my own dagger.

They tried to protect me. I didn't want to be protected. I bullied my brother's weapons master into teaching me. My brother helped, he thought it would be funny. It brought on my first It-isn't-done lecture at the tender age of six. I defeated it with simple logic and a spectacular temper tantrum.

"It is too done," I lisped, "I do it." Trying to convince a six year old otherwise is useless. When Father tried I threw the temper tantrum and the castle ghosts joined in. Blood rained down and the drums rolled. Mother had a fit of the vapors and Father gave in about the weapons but not the dresses. When I wasn't practicing weaponry I still had to wear those wretched dresses.

I only wore my black outfits for weapons practice. Mother hated them, she once said, "They make her look like an assassin." She made the mistake of saying that in my presence. It sparked my interest in the profession and also in the dead. Father would not let me go into training for it at one of the schools but I still managed to learn all the skills. The ghosts seemed to approve. At the very least they didn't drip blood onto me. I walked out of the room.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT!

A drum rolled insistently, urgently. A well dressed noble lady ran down the hall screaming. She held her skirts up in front of her and a look of absolute panic covered her face. I wondered idly how she could run since her skirts were very heavy.

Behind her came a group of running soldiers. I stepped back into my doorway to get out of their way. I hoped the woman died quickly. During the invasion plenty of women had been raped before their murders and it was not something I enjoyed watching in the hauntings.

Another ghost walked out of my room, his sword held loosely in his hand. As the lady ran by he casually stuck out his sword and lopped her head off. The soldiers all cheered.

Rat-a-tat-tat! Rat-a-tat-tat!

A drummer boy stood all alone behind the soldiers. As the soldiers faded away he remained beating out the rhythm of the battle. He looked at me, his eyes sad and pleading. A lone castle defender tiptoed up behind the boy and ran him through. As he collapsed to the ground he continued to play. He kept the beat until his death.

I respected that drummer boy. He was the first shade I ever saw and I knew he felt my respect and appreciated it. The halls ran with blood. They usually did and that was one reason I hated those silly pastel dresses.

I went down the hall ignoring the carnage around me. It was irrelevant. A banquet was being prepared to celebrate my brother's engagement. I was told to be on time and for him I would do it, but not for Mother and Father.

They were all featherheads. Selana was exactly like my mother. "Look at Lady Serina's dress," one gushed. "It's the height of fashion in Graseval."

"I don't know," Selana mused. "Isn't the cut a bit daring?"

"No," I replied a bit bluntly. She looked at me in surprise. It was the first thing I'd said besides "Hello." I had made my greeting over two hours ago. "It looks rather old fashioned. In fact," I scrutinized the dancing Lady Serina's dress, "it's exactly what they wore over 400 years ago."

Selana laughed at me. "As if you'd know what they wore 400 years ago! Nobody does."

I smiled sweetly at her. "You're quite incorrect. Everybody in this castle knows what people wore 400 years ago. You will too in a very short time." Selana was wearing a pastel yellow gown. "If I were you, Selana, I'd stop wearing gowns that color. They're likely to get a bit bloody." She gaped at me.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT!

"Here they come now," I smiled wanting to see her Imperial Pain's reaction to the phantoms of Castle Cayline-Faros.

"Oh not now," Mother wailed. "Couldn't they have waited?" I laughed. The ghosts waited for no mortal.

They were going to begin the invasion again. The amusing, and the worst, part of the whole silly battle was that it had started over a rejected suitor. The King of the castle had chosen one prince for his daughter to marry and another King decided to take offense. He attacked during the engagement feast and the largest slaughter had occurred right here in the great hall.. This feast could be very entertaining.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT!

The drum beat rattled as phantoms appeared and began to dance among the crowded guests. They shrank away from the wraiths and gathered into a knot in one corner. Next to me Princess Selana fainted dead away.

In the center of the dancing mass was the Princess. She waltzed with her betrothed, long silver hair swirling in a straight curtain around them. She moved gracefully, smiling and laughing joyously.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT!

The musicians trailed off, their horns squawking and sliding cacophonously into silence. The dancing stopped. Phantom main doors burst open and soldiers charged into the room, spurred on by their drummer boys. Women screamed and fled for the other doors. The men pulled their swords.

The Princess and her betrothed stood alone in the center of the room. He pushed her behind him. There had been no warning. No servant had lived long enough to bring one.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT!

The drums rolled again. The hall doors swung open, pulling my attention, and everyone else's, away from the drama in front of us. Father's steward rushed in.

"Your Majesties! We're under attack!" He had barely finished his cry when he pitched forward, an arrow sticking out of his back.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT!

Now there were real drums mixed in with the phantom ones, and there was no way to tell the difference between them. Men rushed forward and shoved the hall doors closed. They attempted to barricade them. The men were too late and they had been from the moment the invaders had entered the castle. I knew it, the wraiths knew it, and the castle denizens knew it. Only the guests held any hope of escaping. They, like the phantoms rushed for the other doors of the hall. I shook my head.

My attention abruptly went back to the center of the hall.

The drummer boy I so respected had approached the Princess and was talking earnestly to her. The phantoms had never shown this part of the battle before. The sight of the drummer boy decided me. I resolved to die fighting, since I had no doubt that I would die.

The Princess and the drummer boy turned to me and I somehow knew that they had never faced where I stood during their invasion. They both pointed to me and gestured for me to follow them.

I did.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT!

The drums rolled louder, like a thunderstorm that was almost directly overhead. The boy and the Princess led me to the door I wanted to go to. The door was closest to my room, and to my sword. I smiled.

We went down the hall at a quick pace. The boy said nothing, the Princess cried. Hatred burned and seethed in my soul. It formed a cold block of ice in my stomach. The boy hurried us into my room. Screams echoed from the hall behind us.

The slaughter had begun.

"This used to be my room you know," the Princess said conversationally through her tears. A stream of ice cold shock ran through me, making me shiver. The ghosts never spoke to the living. I shrugged it off. There would be time enough to wonder about it later. Time enough after I was dead.

"Hurry up and pack, both of you! We haven't got much time," the drummer boy snapped, keeping watch at the door. Their voices echoed across time.

"Pack?" I asked. "There's no way of here. We are all going to die." My tone was fatalistic.

"There is a way out," the Princess said calmly. "My name is Cayla and he's Shawn. If there wasn't a way out you wouldn't be alive today. Now please pack." She moved around the room her tears falling faster and faster.

Furniture began to appear in a far different lay out than mine and it was very frilly. I shuddered inwardly, shrugged, and began to pack. I did so quickly and efficiently which was a far cry from Cayla's method of packing. I pulled out a pack and put in a pair of winter woolens, my ordinary clothes, and a brush. I also packed my sword polish. That was it. I belted my sword at my waist and put my daggers in various places upon my person. Cayla pulled out phantom dresses and shoved them haphazardly into a misty bag. She would have frozen when winter came. Then she loaded her pack with jewelry. I wore my one piece of jewelry at my neck. It was a simple silver necklace and Cayla wore an identical one.

"What about food?" I asked.

"We'll stop in the kitchens briefly," Shawn replied with an effort. All of our conversation had been made with an effort. It wasn't in their script and it was hard for them to change history. "Come," he ordered.

"But I'm not done," Cayla wailed petulantly.

"There's no more time. We have to go now!" Shawn grabbed Cayla's arm and dragged her out the door. I followed them.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT!

The drums growled petulantly. The walls ran with blood and it puddled on the floor. I ran after Cayla and Shawn. He bent down and pressed a stone on the wall. It swung inwards.

Cayla gaped, her eyes swimming with tears that fell like a waterfall. I ran into the passage, I didn't have time to stare. Things were strange enough already. The ghosts had never included me before, yet now they were. What did it matter that the castle had passages no one living had ever seen? It certainly didn't to me.

Shawn and Cayla stepped in and he shut the door. "How did you know this was here? And more importantly how come you can affect the living?" I asked. "You never have before,"

"My father was steward of this castle and the secret had been passed down for generations, even when everybody else had forgotten it. My mother was a Verovian and I'd been sent to her brother to learn a trade. When the King of Verovia decided to invade I was conscripted as a drummer boy. I was more loyal to her highness, though, and got her out," Shawn explained somewhat sadly.

Cayla answered my second question. "We couldn't affect you before. We can't leave here, we can't leave our paths in history, and we can't do anything to or for the living without added psychic energy. The hatred and death these invaders have brought has allowed us to help you."

"You mean you couldn't do anything but bleed on us," I corrected automatically.

"Well, yes, but these things aren't important..." Cayla started.

"We're at the kitchens," Shawn interrupted. We fell silent as he opened the door. I darted inside the abandoned room with Cayla following close behind. The servants had fled in a vain attempt to save their lives. Cayla stared helplessly around her. I knew that once more she was caught in the loop of time that tied her to this place. I grabbed a canteen and filled it with water, and it was by far the most important thing for me to have. I took two loaves of bread, some cheese, fruit, and dried meat. They weren't the best fare I'd had at my Father's table but they would do. I stepped back into the passage.

"Take some bread and cheese," Shawn ordered Cayla. She looked at me dumbly as she reached out and took them from a phantom kitchen while Shawn got her water. He dragged her back into the passage and closed the door. We started down again.

"There are things you have to know," Cayla told me. "Thanks to Shawn I didn't die here but everyone else did. Unfortunately, I was not equipped to face a life outside the palace. I took the easy path away from the tunnel. Verovian soldiers captured me and took me to their King. He married me to his son. You come from that union. I died fourteen miserable years later. The necklace you wear used to be mine."

She paused. "When we leave the passages don't follow me, you'll only be captured," She paused again. "We used to watch you when you were a young child. We feared you'd break your neck on Faros Hill. So many others had done so. Go that way, no one will be able to follow you there."

I nodded. "I will have revenge for this, you know." My tone was cold and determined.

"We know," Shawn answered for the both of them. "Become an assassin Aria, it's the best way. Fulfill your dreams. One day you will join us here, this castle never lets go and time has come full circle. Another set of ghosts will haunt this castle for eternity as well."

"I understand," I replied. He then gave instructions to Cayla. They were hurried and incomplete, only a novice would have given them to somebody. Shawn had only been a drummer boy and he would never be anything else. He'd died too soon and it infuriated me.

We came to the end of the tunnel. "Go well, Aria," they told me.

"Good-bye," I said. Cayla and Shawn were jerked back into their horrible reenactment of a tragedy that should never have happened again, like it just had for me.

They hugged each other. Cayla and I stepped out of the passage and into the night air. We walked a few steps away together and turned as one. I drew my sword and saluted Shawn's shade. Cayla waved good-bye with one slender, lily white hand. He waved his drum stick in return. Cayla went towards the low ground, towards the Verovian patrols. Shawn turned to go back into the palace to see the frightened noble lady get beheaded and to drum his way into death.

I turned towards Faros Hill. I stepped into tomorrow, into destiny.

~Finis

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