Elian’s Castle

There once was a prince named Elian who lived in a castle not built of stone, but of stories. Every wall, every tower, every gate had risen from the pages of books he’d read, dreams he’d had, and wishes he once whispered to the stars. ✨

Elian had grown tired of the noise of the world—its chaos, its expectations, its hurt. So he built his own world, brick by brick, story by story. Inside his grand castle, dragons guarded the gates, enchanted forests sang lullabies, and no stranger could enter unless summoned.

At first, the solitude felt safe—perfect, even. He could fly with phoenixes, dine with heroes, and rewrite endings however he pleased. But something strange began to happen. The dragons grew restless. The forests darkened. Characters he had once created for comfort twisted into shadows, whispering doubts, fear, and regret.

The very stories that built the castle began to haunt it.

Each day, the prince would hear pounding at the gates—not from the outside, but from within. Creatures he’d imagined for strength were now chasing him through corridors he no longer recognized. The castle, once a refuge, had become a labyrinth of his own making, filled with illusions that turned on him.

Elian tried to write new stories, to cover the old with fresh hope—but the ink would vanish, or worse, transform into nightmares the moment it hit the page. He realized then: the walls weren’t protecting him. They were burying him.

One stormy night ⛈️, cornered in the highest tower by a monster that looked suspiciously like himself—only more broken, more afraid—Elian made a choice. He took the oldest story, the first brick he had ever laid, and tore it in half.

The castle trembled.

With trembling hands, he tore another page, and another. The monsters shrieked, the shadows wailed—but with each page destroyed, light seeped through the cracks. Wind, wild and free, poured in. The castle collapsed in a storm of paper and ash.

And then—silence.

Elian opened his eyes. He stood in a wide, open field under a sky painted with endless stars. In the distance were mountains, villages, rivers, people—stories not written by him, but waiting to be discovered. 🌍

He took a step forward, and for the first time, the world did not shrink. It expanded.

He smiled.

And walked on. A new chapter just had begun for him.