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In the void, the spire loomed. It extended upward like a blackened finger among the knuckled fists of stone that surrounded it.

At least, the Prince [i]believed[/i] it to be the castle he has sought for so long. In the fog and the darkness, his very eyes could be deceiving him towards a mountain, for all he knew. Out here in the ash-like dirt, that castle in the distance was the dirtied noble's only guidance- fairly good guidance, at that, for the Prince was seemingly unable to ever gain [i]any[/i] ground on the complex. But there it loomed, possibly eternally, on the horizon. 

The Prince blinked away a stray blonde hair that had blown into his eyes. With some of the things he'd seen, he wouldn't be surprised if one day he woke up and the entire stronghold had disappeared, leaving the Prince's horizon and its onlooker lost. Not to imply that the Prince exactly [i]knew[/i] where he was going, but the great building in the distance seemed an amicable goal, at the least. Working towards it had led the young looking man to some very strange and oft disturbing places of equally disturbing inhabitants. Of the inhabitants he's met, only one seemed to offer up any conversation, though it did little in the way of explaining...[i]anything[/i], really. The Prince had called it Tomb, for it had appeared to be a tall Tomb covered in cloaks of red and purple. He often thought about their conversation, trying to make any more sense to its riddles or odd references. 

[quote][i]"At the age of six, you picked a rose. There were many around- but you chose one in particular. Why?"

"How do you know anything about my childhood? What are you?"

"Under moonlight, do roses bloom?"

"Er..yes?"

"You are a skeptical man. I offer you one answer." 

It took the Prince a moment to fully realize what he was offering. But would this being's answer be any less enigmatic than its questions? The young man brushed his hair back and thought a moment.

"What is my name?" He had asked. The cloaked stone creature was silent for several moments, and the man was almost ready to walk away when its odd, almost mechanical voice perked back up.

"Your name matters not, Prince of Lies. What matters is your pick among the roses."[/i][/quote]

And so the formerly unnamed man took to calling himself the Prince of Lies. Or to others, should he ever encounter another being, just Prince. It seemed to fit with the vivid images that were on repeat in his head, one involving a throne and a king. The others were less than pleasant to think about. But was he a Prince, this ragged and torn figure of lean muscle? If so, was the castle on the horizon [i]his[/i]? Or, rather, a member of his family? Did he [i]have[/i] a family? 

He shook the thoughts and questions away. None of them really mattered, ultimately. If the other memories offered any sort of explanation, he was dead. Or exiled, at best. Doomed to eternally wander this hellscape and reach for a throne in a castle he couldn't get to. The Prince turned from the castle and shifted the weight on his shoulders- he had taken to carrying his sword on his back, rather than his hip. Less practical? Probably. More comfortable? Definately. Luckily, his leather belt had been able to stretch enough to fit over his chest. The terrain before him looked harrowing, at best; an ashen valley, with a mountain appearing on one side with a forest down the other. The Prince had gone around the forest and had continued toward the castle, but his view was quickly becoming obscured by the encroaching mountain. So, he made the decision the night prior that he would backtrack towards the forest enough for the castle to come back into view fully and then work towards it at an angle, so as to gradually go around the mountain while keeping his best form of direction in sight. So today would likely be uneventful, then, as he trekked back towards where he had come from several days before. 

Sighing as he pulled his dirty purple garments closer and making sure his weapon and pack were in order, he started off towards the hauntingly colorless forest.