She didn’t know how, and why, but ironically, Eros found herself in front of the Palace gate. It stood tall, and massive, coiled with embroidery to such extent that she could have sworn that they are made of gold, if not by expensive materials spend to them, but they seems old—repainted only, when it deems to be adherently needed. It was if it has been there through ages. Withstanding through the time, whereas there are turmoil, and chaos at hand that has swept the Kingdom from its soil. Spiteful scenarios to which Eros haven’t had any idea on the slightest of on why they keep flashing ahead of her eyes.
Her lips quivered. It was horrible, the sight so horrid trajectory to how her stomach were knotted. There are corpses to which she could see. A blood smeared ground feeding beneath as it seep in the pool of those crimson, and reddish thick liquid. On her vision to which it came out of nowhere, the sky that day are also painted with a darkest vermillion she had ever seen. It was as if the clouds are lit in fire, shedding through the flames that seems to ignited beyond rather than below. The Kingdom, the Palace of Salem may have remain untouched, but that doesn’t mean it was also safe from the dangerous cause by the ruckus, and war that asked for life.
To how did she know it was war? Eros couldn’t tell.
She just has been snapped out of it , when a guard noticed , taking note that she was just standing there—unmoving as if stupefied by something to which they are unable to see.
“Young miss?” He calls to grab her attention to which he did not failed to do so. “Are you alright?”
Eros on the other hand whipped her head across to look at whoever may have been the owner of the voice. She blinked her eyes, shrugging her head to repelled away those thoughts.