The Autumn Citedel

Towering. A once proud barricade stood withered and crumbling in the dying daylight. Limestone. Cold. Unfeeling. Rough to the touch, yet somehow a welcome divide, however meek and depleted, between his strange place and the sheer sharp shards of mountainous rock surrounding.

Within its faulted protection, many similarly crumbling houses partially embedded into the very flesh of this remote valley connected by a burrow of odd winding dirt pathways. Silent. Untrodden now, at this hour: half ways between the darkness and the light. The sky- starless and awash with saffron, orange and a midnight blue which seems somewhat out of place.

Deeper within the city wall, a large stone structure with cascading walls. Sheer and broken. Yielding. With a huge cracked black roof atop its once opulent form. Many windows with thin shattered panes that allowed any heat that had once remained to escape over the wall and out in the autumn wind. All without any luminance emanating. Once atop the fortress, a ripped periwinkle blue flag. A pennant almost. It slips away, caught in a subtle updraft. Tossed and corrupted in the wind, it is swept over the glass shard broken teeth that constitute foothills and into the world outside the citadel. To a world unseen and unknown. All that once remained in the kingdom was swept away by the mystery of time.

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