"I-," he stopped himself at the moment he wanted to voice his desire. It was an absurd one as well.
The wanderer wearing a brown overcoat wanted nothing more than to step in and hug the little girl. Comfort her.
'But I can't, after all it is nothing …more… than a…painting.' Voicing it inside, he felt his heart ache.
He did not feel any sort of emotion for the man on the left mural. He still resonated within quietly. What it was that resonated did not become aware to him, he just felt a slight connection.
But that mere connection was nothing compared to the ache for little girl's plight.
Steeling himself against touching an old mural and damaging it, he placed his feet in front of him as he put his eyes forcibly on the roof mural. He drifted ahead never taking his eyes off the mural above.
He had acclimated quite far into seeing in the dark since first stepping into the castle. Every foot placed on the dark crystallized floor warranted more adjustment as he went deeper.
Now, he could gaze into the dark and see the shapes that were not meant to be seen, just barely. He felt it so, or he considered 'maybe it is just my imagination.' Wanderer wasn't sure on that.
Crossing the arch, his gaze that had been fixed on the roof saw the next ceiling mural instantly. It began with five giants engaging a battle three similar sized beings with each having different structure for a body. Each bending in ways humans can't and fought with weaponry and crafts that never seemed to be of this world.
That was just the beginning of the mural. The white oval like a million fractures encompassed egg stood in the near-center. Nothing entering or exiting it.
But this time near the further end of the oval a few more tiny beings stood. In awe and reverie they were, some looked horrified.
A teensy population of the tiny ones held up simpler weapons like swords and shields. Ready to strike down beings that may as well be gods to them.
And to the collected coterie, some beings who had come from the cracks looked down upon them. Listening.
The few who had stopped also had beings laughing like someone cracked a joke of the world.
"But where did the tiny ones come from?" A curiosity he could only state but not have a response of.
Several more were still fighting the same old war in the corners and other patches of the cracked canvas.
The left mural as he viewed it only showed again another window added that showed the previous world while a new was being created by the man while the beings and creatures helped along.
Taking a long breath, he turned to face the right mural. 'What could be the successor to-!'
Shocking was the scene drawn as the little girl for the first time was hugged. Not just by one or two but many. Each of a different world with unique form.
Her face held trails left tears she had shed, a sad lonely smile went from one cheek to another. What more was different that the world of the canvas had its windows leaking the previous worlds and created something made of every world's pieces. Even the ones that had been run over by ruins of untold massacre.
Frozen by the kindness of little girl's creations, the wanderer merely began lifting his arm to touch the mural. Yet his legs did not move.
His heart wanted to abandon the mere choice he had made just a moment away but his body still wanted to honour it. Such an irregularity put him in constraint.
It was the flicker of the shadow of the black shrouded being that cut it. His real reason for coming in to the castle was that, not these murals and their fabricated stories.
'There's not even a single shred of truth to them.' He did not sound his mental remark.
"Mostly," he whispered to himself.
Not slowing down he ran. He did not look at the next several murals that sped past him. His eyes on the ground stuck.
Ran and ran until he wanted to stop. His want only became a skid that had him slipping over three more archways before he stopped from the place he began to run from.
"Huff, huff," inhaling and exhaling heavily. He just looked to his left.
And he stopped his breathing immediately.
"What?"
The mural on the left was just one window extra from the previous mural he had seen. The wanderer counted them again. It was still the same.
Feeling the true sense of horror place its noose around his neck, the wanderer slowly turned to look at the left mural in the previous archway. It was the same as the last he had seen.
"Just how?" His breath tight and words dying before he could breath, he was utterly shocked.
'Did my running not get me to cross like tons of murals?' His eyebrows furrowed sharpening the light being reflected from his azure eyes.
The wanderer instantly shifted his gaze to the previous archway's right mural, now in his left. It also was the same as the last.
"The world's a mystery. Always has been," says a wanderer in a castle of unknown origins that displays a story of unknown time and space.
'Trying to make head or tail of this situation is impossible until I get out of this castle.' He felt his immediate goal changing, his will directed at it.
Turning to face the direction the being in the black shroud was, he moved. Following after, he did not look up nor to the sides. The wanderer just marched ahead briskly.
An hour passed liked this. He still did not reach the being. Wanting to take a break, he sat down on the cold floor.
Before proceeding to take his metal pipe out, he glanced to his left instinctively. The mural he saw, froze him again.
It was the same as before, just one extra window that now looked old to him.
"How can this be?!" His confusion tried to call upon his anger, to have him throw a fit. The wanderer truly felt his own anger expanding. Yet, it contracted too.
He forced it to stay still.
'I walked, then I ran. So why is it that the murals I was supposed to see are following me?' The wanderer began a silent hypothesis. To test it, he walked and crossed to the next archway without ever looking at the roof or the right wall.
Reaching the next archway, he noticed it immediately the left wall held the same mural as the last he had seen.
He realized what he has to do to escape. To him, it seemed he needs to gaze at every mural before he could even try to leave.
The shadow of the black shroud of the human-like being was still split as three. A bright light like a tunnel highlighted and partially illuminated the corridor. Nevertheless, having seen the nature of the corridor was the wanderer even free?