Book 11: Getting Him Back

Misty

I pace in front of a set of wooden double doors. They’re etched with sweeping designs that’re a near perfect match to the doors littered throughout the castle in Moonrise. This place–this apartment within the castle–it’s beautiful. At least, it was likely very beautiful once. Everything is covered in dust as it stands. The glass vases scattered across nearly every surface probably held bouquets of tropical flowers at one point. Books used to line every shelf. Silk and satin draped over the massive canopy of the four poster bed in the main bedroom, I’m sure, and the bed was covered by silk sheets that smelled like rose oil, freshly cleaned. 

Now, this apartment is a shell with ancient furniture and cheap, slightly ratty linens covering the beds, chairs, and old couches. 

But I haven’t really explored, not while my mind races. Where is Georgia? How do I get out and find her? I’ll escape this place. I’ll make it out. But I’m not leavin