Rising sky. Climbing winter. The breaths of ancient magic floating in the air. An empire shadowed in darkness. Blankets folds of black hide an entire world. An aurora burst of colours in the sky. Blues, pinks, reds. Frigid ice spanning wide on the ground. A tall castle. Vines of blossoming flowers circling in twists around arms of the castle. A queen. A king. Broken crowns. Clipped and scratched edges. An entire citizen of people in deep slumber. Sleeping beneath the castle. Lingering looks. Crooked smiles. Echoes of footsteps in large hallways. Once brimming with life, now dead. Clatters of ghost. Whispers. Hushed touches. A queen. A king. Broken crowns. And a dead empire.