"I'm coming, Luc," his sister calls, rolling her eyes. "Don't run so quick, though! You'll get tired, and we need to be home before supper."

"We'll be fine! Even if it gets dark out." The path's pretty obvious, after all.

"We'll get in trouble."

He just laughs and keeps heading into the woods.

She huffs.

But, still, she follows.

There's a bit of excitement in her, too. They're not supposed to go into the woods, lest they meet an evil witch or monster.

Léa thinks a monster or a witch sounds like a fine thing to meet.

It grows dark faster than it should, the trees getting thicker, taller. Old growth, with no brambles and tangles of plants blocking their view -

It shouldn't be this dark, with how spread apart the trees are, but their tops interweave into a dense canopy. The fields with their little house are long gone.

Still, there's stones beneath their feet, running down to what sounds like a stream in the distance.

Luc stops, looks around, and sighs when he realizes they're really really far and it's getting hard to see.

"We should probably go home, huh."

But Léa's staring down the path.

"...Do you hear that, Luc?" she asks, stepping forward.

"The - stream?"

There's not much else to hear. The wind is still, there's no birds or deer or howling wolves or - anything -

- this is getting a bit creepy.

"No, the music."

" - There's no music - "

"Something's wrong with it - "

She starts forward, running down the path.

"Léa!"

Luc runs after her - "Léa stop!"

She doesn't.

She does outpace him, her footsteps retreating - until the gloom swallows her.

It's just about night, now.

The path only goes one direction -

He picks up speed, not really looking where he's going, just chasing his sister -

She's standing on the edge of a huge, roaring river, staring across -

At a castle looming out of the woods, clinging to the cliff face, imposing and grand.

There's a bridge, before Léa's feet. She hasn't crossed yet.

Luc hears the music now, too. It's - odd. Gloomy. Like nothing he's ever heard, echoing like wailing across the rocks, rising and falling, barely audible over the river.

"Léa!" he calls, running up to her -

But his gaze is drawn by the castle.

" - We - we should go - "

She turns, wrenching her gaze away -

The path behind them's vanished. There's a nearly sheer slope, scattered with pebbles, the tall trees looming at its top. Nowhere with good footing - not on this side of the river - and it'll be easy to tumble into the water if they try and fail to climb.

Thunder rumbles overhead. There's no moon to light their way, no stars. Just storm clouds.

It begins to rain.

Luc flinches.

"The - castle might have someone who knows where this is?"

"The castle might have witches."

The idea isn't as exciting as it was an hour ago.

"The woods might have wolves."

"...We'll try the castle. But don't give anyone our names, or say where we're from, or be rude, or make promises, or lie, okay?"

"I'm not stupid."

Her expression says what she thinks of that.

He sticks his tongue out.

Still - across the bridge?

Across the bridge.

Together - she reaches out for his hand.

He takes it.

Together.

The bridge holds them, stone solid and firm, water rushing and splashing underneath, rain pouring down. The bridge behind them fades into the gloom - ahead of them, the castle somehow grows larger.

Luc only glances back once.

Light shouldn't fade that quickly.

He keeps his gaze forward, otherwise.

The castle's gates are a black metal, shinier than most irons. The bars curl into the shapes of roses; thorny vines wind up them. Beyond the gates - a path, lit by a rather fanciful filigree lamppost, through gardens overgrown with flowers.

The gates seem to be unlocked.

Léa pushes them.

They swing open, silently.

"...Onward?" Luc asks, hesitantly.

That garden doesn't look very inviting...

"Yeah."

She grips his hand, tightly, and starts walking down the garden path.

Nothing leaps out at them from the shadows, or dances along in their footsteps, or whispers and watches from the tangles, or even leans in particularly menacingly. The path is somewhat long, alternatively dark or light paving stones forming ornate murals, garden statues fanciful and overgrown.

They reach the castle doors soon enough. Heavy wooden things, carved with complex inlaid designs of flowers and tigers and thorns.

"Push on them together?"

"Yeah. On three?"

He lets go of her hand to press both of his against the door.

She does the same, and on three throws her full farm-raised strength into shoving at the heavy doors.

The doors glide open, silently. Inside, candles light, showing an enormous, stately entry room painted in deep reds.

"...Weird. Where is everyone?"

"I don't know..." She steps forward, looking around.

Candles flare to life, torches kindle, the chandelier glows and sways, revealing a room draped in rich reds shot through with black over dark stone, its lines dramatic and sharp.

She flinches.

She steps forward again. "Who's there? Playing around like this is rude!"

There's some rustling off in the distance. Almost a muttering sound.

"Come out!" she demands.

Something giggles.

She huffs. "This isn't funny..."

He puts a hand on his sister's shoulder.

More politely: "Can you please tell us your name?"

There's a scuffle, and then a light approaches them from one side - candle, flickering - "I'm quite sorry for my colleagues!" a voice calls. Male, grown up, somewhat odd...

"It's okay!" Luc says. "We're just very lost..."

Léa sighs, huffing a bit.

The person rounds the corner...

Revealing a humanoid candle holder, walking, a lit candle on his head. 

That surprises him!

"Ah! Hello!"

"Why, visitors! Two very young visitors!" the candle man exclaims.

"We're lost," Luc says, apologetically.

"I dare say so! It's been a frightfully long time since we had visitors, and no one comes to even the nearer parts of the woods anymore..." He sounds sad about that.

"Oh, I'm sorry. That must be lonely."

Léa sighs.

"Can you tell us how to leave?"

"Uh. Well."

"I'm not entirely sure of that myself... We've all been stuck here, you see."

" - For how long?" she asks, alarmed.

He hesitates. "Ah, well, not an outrageous time..."

"That's not a number. How long?"

"...About thirteen years."

"What?!"

"Well, we're tied to the castle's magic, so - surely visitors like yourself will be not quite so thoroughly trapped... But in the meantime, we can provide some rather excellent hospitality! It's our pride to do so, after all."

"Hospitality doesn't matter if we're stuck!"

"Léa..."

"What?"

"It doesn't sound like it's his fault. You shouldn't be rude to him about it."

She grumbles a little, but, to the candle man: "Sorry for snapping at you."

The candle man smiles. "I'm not offended at all, young miss. I understand you're rather stressed."

She sighs, glancing away. "I guess we're hungry and tired..." she says, almost reluctantly.

"Then we'll set up the guest suites! And lay out a rather grand feast, a necessity of course for hosting new visitors - "

"...Okay?" she says, warily. "Though I'd much rather get home..."