Amandla Castle's wall towered over my head, piercing the sky, communing with the clouds.
I could scarcely make out the top without straining my eyes.
The surface a cragged mountain of burnt and blackened stone brick. Ash and charcoal smeared down it's walls like paint on a canvas set ablaze.
Jagged silhouettes of towers and barracks jutted out from the centre like branches of a haunted tree.
Smoke hovered through the air, fogging the atmosphere and stinging my eyes till they watered; the ghostly breath of a graveyard.
It appeared in use, yet devoid of life. Loud, yet silent.
**Intact, yet in ruins.**
It's enormous scale mocking me, leering over me
As if to say: *"You'll never reach these heights"*
I brushed away it's insults and began to ascend.
The climb was akin to scaling the wall of my own perception.
On the other side lay a world I knew nothing of.
An alternate reality I had never known.
One that did not permit me to enter.
I was forbidden from this world and yet still I forced my way inside.
With each slight advance I charted deeper into enemy territory.
Crawling upwards to my demise. Leaving a larger pit of potential demise down below.
A blanket of death and a bed of imminent doom. The realisation of my feeble mortality, on both sides. Engrossing me, crushing me.
But I steeled my resolve.
I had made this bed... and now it came time to lie in it.
But I did not stay still.
My acceptance was movement. It was progress.
And so I could not turn back, especially not to look at how far I had come.
I could only cling to this wall like a dying insect. Desperately inching my way to solid ground.
As I traversed this lopsided puzzle, voices drifted past my ear.
Idle conversations the contents of which I filtered, commands from seemingly high-ranking commanders that I thought may be of some use.
Despite it's appearance, it was clear that there was life inside the castle.
But hearing those voices, the way each word had been drained of meaning like blood from cattle...
It only felt more lifeless.
Soldiers turned actors.
Parroting the meagre selection of uniform words they had been allowed.
They played their role well.
If Amandla Castle was a graveyard, these were it's ghosts.
And yet I took no pity on them.
I was the exorcist.
Before I knew, I had completed my climb.
I stood on top of a stone bridge, connecting a lone look-out tower to the main castle.
Lying in-between, was the surface I had only just climbed.
I finally permitted myself to look down.
Distance warped from my eye like widening a telescope.
I had reached heights unknown to me.
And now came what I believed to be the easier part.
And I was correct.
My destination was guarded by only a single wooden door.
If I could get through, it would truly begin.
Everything I had endured.
Everything I had lost.
Perhaps it was all worth it to feel this sensation.
Aligned with victory.
Aligned with myself.
I rewrapped my scarf as if to repair myself.
Breathing in once. And once more.
*They're not ready.* *I am.*
*It is me that they should fear.*
*The Wingman.*
I broke into a sprint, boots slamming against the stone as I charged across the bridge.
*I can get through that door easily.*
I was right.
I slammed my shoulder through.
BANG!
It blasted from the hinges as I crashed to the floor along with the,
I could barely pick myself up before instinct kicked in.
Two Humans soldiers. Both frozen, gawking at me.
"Who the hell are you?! What's the meaning of thi--"
I pounced. Chopping his neck before I grew annoyed of his voice.
He clutched his throat. Choking. Sputtering.
I weaved to his left, driving a kick into his arm.
Crunch.
He hit the wall like a ragdoll. Shuddering the stone.
My gaze snapped to the other. He stood paralysed by fear.
"No--no... no please!--"
I lunged forward and threw a clean punch to his jaw.
His head spun as he collapsed like a dropped rake.
All my training paid off after all.
His bones could not even bruise my naked fist.
*So, these are the humans I was taught to fear...*
*Ironic.*
*Countless battles and one single person left them petrified... even one on two...*
*It checks, though.*
*Men always fear the unknown.*
From that point, I crept through the castle.
Any stairwell leading downstairs was my mark.
Stealth was my steed.
I had no issue with decimating any soldier I saw.
But I could not afford to raise the alarm.
Not for the danger, no.
But because it would spoil my plans.
It all had to be perfect.
I raced in silence. Darting shadow to shadow.
Drawing a mental map of my steps, in case the need arose to retrace them.
Observing my surrounding so closely, I finally noticed the decoration of these halls and corridors.
Candles illuminated the dim wooden corridors in orange light.
Extravagant ornaments and antiques littered over the sides below enormous paintings hung on glossy golden frames.
Paintings displaying images of wealth, power, integrity
A well crafted mirage.
But this was their home. Where none of their victims or citizens could even have the opportunity be deceived.
To me, that meant but one thing.
They were only lying to themselves.
Perhaps that helped to reconcile the horrors.
To live with themselves.
*After I'm done with them. I may need to make a painting of my own.*
*How would that feel?*
I still traversed and descended.
Still unseen and unheard.
The only factor changing was merely my frustration.
Until finally, I discovered what I was looking for.
The reek of blood, iron and urine alerted me once I got closer.
Finally, the castle dungeons.
The most vast and well recognised prison in the entire kingdom.
With the greatest number of Gimen slaves held in it's grasp.
The perfect initial striking point.
The heart of all of our misfortune.