Submission (#8114) Approved

Morning arrived gently. The thunderstorm had passed, leaving the castle grounds soaked and glistening in dew. Pale sunlight filtered through gaps in the clouds, casting a soft light across the forest.

Inside the crumbling castle, the fire had dwindled to embers. A few faint wisps of smoke curled up the chimney, the room now warmed more by memories of heat than heat itself.

Harun and Jirai sat on the nest of pillows they had cobbled together the night before, sharing a modest breakfast from their Pomus storage. Jirai nibbled at a roll with jam while kicking his legs energetically, eyes still lit with the excitement of yesterdays discovery.

“I still think we should take a few crowns,” Jirai declared, chewing as he spoke. “Not all of them… just the coolest ones! It’s not like anyone else is gonna use them, right?”

Harun gave a small chuckle, quietly finishing his tea before responding. “That may be true, little one, but does that make it ours to take?”

Jirai squinted at him playfully. “Okay but what if someone else finds them and just runs off with them? At least we’d treat them with respect. We could put them in a museum or something… and keep a couple! For inspiration!”

Harun arched his brow with amused patience. “So… honorable thieves, then?”

“Exactly! You get it.”

Harun smiled gently and shook his head, brushing a bit of dust from Jirais face. “Let’s take the morning to think it over. A walk might help clear our heads.”

Jirai gave a mischievous grin. “You just want to distract me so you can stash a few for yourself.”

“Oh? Is that what you’d do?”

“…Maybe,” Jirai said, hopping on to his feet and stretching. “I’ll explore inside a bit more. If I find any secret passageways, I’m naming them after myself.”

“Very fitting,” Harun said with a soft laugh, already walking toward a mossy hallway that led outside.

[...]

The castle grounds had changed with the storm. Where yesterday everything felt looming and eerie, today it held the silence of long-forgotten beauty. Harun stepped quietly through the overgrowth, his paws brushing against dewy leaves as he wandered through the remnants of what was once a curated garden.

Ivy curled around stone benches and half-buried statues, and thick vines claimed shattered fountains. It was clear that someone once loved this place, tended to it, made it bloom. Now nature had reclaimed it all.

He stepped carefully between crumbling pathways, his eyes scanning the earth as golden morning light broke through the treetops. Something near the roots of a twisted tree glimmered faintly. Harun paused, kneeling softly in the grass. Brushing aside fallen leaves and wet soil, he uncovered a cluster of quartz crystals embedded in rough stone. Their clean, six-sided points gleamed faintly, refracting the morning sun into a ray of soft rainbow light.

A quiet breath escaped him. “Oh, how lovely…”

They were nearly perfect; clear, elegant, untouched. It was hard to tell if they had formed here naturally or were remnants of some forgotten artifact, but the beauty was undeniable. Harun traced a paw along the edge of the stone and smiled, heart warmed by the delicate wonder of it.

He took a small crystal fragment - carefully separated with practiced ease - as a token. The rest he left undisturbed, nestled in the earth. “You should stay here,” he murmured softly. “The forest still remembers you.”

From the shadows at his paws, his Pomu peeked up, blinking sleepily. Harun smiled and passed the crystal down. “Would you hold onto this for me, Sage?”

The Pomu thrilled and took the gem delicately before vanishing back into his shadow with a flicker.

The wind stirred the trees again and Harun caught the faint sound of trickling water nearby. Curious, he followed the sound past a stand of willows, until he found a small river weaving through the farthest edge of the garden. Sunlight sparkled across the surface and birds called faintly in the distance; life returned to the ruins in quiet ways.

Harun stepped gently into the stream, feeling the cool flow wash over his paws. Smooth stones shifted beneath his touch, and as he looked down, he noticed the riverbed was scattered with beautifully colored rocks.

One in particular stood out, a polished piece of jasper in warm earth tones. Deep reds curled against soft yellows and streaks of ochre, like the memory of a flame frozen in stone. He lifted it, turning it over in his paw with a thoughtful gaze.

He spotted others; translucent green chalcedony like sea glass, speckled gems in earthy greens and pinks, and a rough piece of smoky quartz barely distinguishable from a bit of charred wood. One stone even seemed to shimmer faintly with blue, but it could’ve been just the way the light hit the water.

He took only two: the jasper and the blue-tinged stone, storing them gently with his Pomu.

“So much beauty, hidden away…” he whispered.

These weren’t just pretty trinkets, they felt like clues, pieces of a forgotten narrative. He found himself wondering again - were these the very types of gemstones used in the crowns back in the castle? Did artisans from this land once comb the riverbeds and carve treasures from earth and fire?

“I wonder…” Harun mused aloud, “if the crowns inside were forged with stones from this very ground.”

The thought filled him with quiet excitement. It was rare to find such harmony in ruins.

He looked back toward the castle, softened by distance, its broken walls still noble under the rising sun. Could it be restored?
Perhaps there was still life left in these halls. Perhaps the story wasn’t quite over.

He sat for a few minutes more, listening to the rhythm of the water, letting the calm settle around him like a soft blanket. The moment was fleeting and perfect - one of those rare times when the world held its breath and the only thing that mattered was the rustle of leaves and the gentle whisper of the stream.

Harun made a mental note to visit the library in the next town. Maybe there were old records. Deeds. Names. Maybe the story of this place hadn’t yet been fully told.

As he turned back toward the castle, his ears twitched. A distant, unmistakable voice rang out from one of the upper towers.

“Haruuuun! I think I found a hidden stairway!”

The softest laugh escaped him.

“…Of course you did.”

He followed the sound of Jirai’s voice back through the garden path, the river singing behind him, and the earth still sparkling faintly with hidden gems.

Back inside, Harun found Jirai crouched beside a half-collapsed spiral staircase that wound down into a cold, dusty corridor. His fur was a bit more tousled than before, and his tail twitched with energy.

“I told you there’d be secret stairways,” Jirai grinned, brushing dirt off his paws. “No treasure chest though. Just a bunch of empty wine bottles and… I think a really grumpy rat.”

Harun raised a brow. “Is the rat alright?”

“Emotionally? Probably not.”

They both chuckled and for a few quiet moments, they stood together beneath the cracked ceiling, sunlight still filtering in through narrow windows. The castle felt less like a ruin now. More like a sleeping place, waiting to be remembered.

“I was thinking,” Harun said gently, “maybe we should take a few crowns with us. Not for profit. But to study them, learn about where they came from. They belong to something larger, we just don’t know what yet.”

Jirai beamed, trying very hard not to look too triumphant. “I knew you’d come around.”

They wrapped each chosen crown carefully in cloth and tucked them into their bags. The rest they left in the cabinets, undisturbed.

When they stepped outside for the final time, the wind rustled through the trees like a whisper of farewell. Harun glanced back once at the castles silhouette.

“Let’s head to town,” he said. “I want to know who built this place.”

“And I want hot soup,” Jirai replied, already skipping ahead.