As I lay down in the field of bell flowers, the purple hair I have surrounds my body like a shield as my golden yellow eyes peer up at the night sky.’The stars are so pretty tonight’ I thought. My pale skin contrasts against the dark looming trees and against my dark clothing. The gold I wore upon my neck and ears shine with the moonlight and stars.

The animals I hear loom in the darkness like the constant feel of someone watching, something watching. I hear the guards from the palace searching for me, calling out my name “PRINCESS ZEPHYRINE.” Their loud voices called my name only for them to realise that they’ll never find me... Not alive at least.

My breathing starts to become heavy as I struggle for breath. The blooming red rose on my clothes getting larger and larger. My eyes seem to droop as black spots slowly spread in my vision, tears well up in my golden orbs as the red rose starts to bloom from my mouth.

“PRINCESS ZEPHYRINE.” The guards calls fall deaf on my ears as my eyes blink for the last time. My body grows cold as I am rushed into the palace healer’s hands

Black. That's all there is after life, and I am the only one here. Like a ghost I float endlessly yet I still feel like I’m touching the ground. A strange cold feeling washes over me as I open my eyes to see the black hole that surrounds me.

The time I’ve spent in this strange place in unknown to me and I can’t help but wonder what's going to happen to me. ‘Who is keeping me here? What is here? Where is my home?’ These questions float through my mind like water flows through a dam, endless and will not cease.

I still look around this prison of darkness that I float through because even though everything is black it still feels different, like I’m passing through things that I can’t see. A lamp is the next thing I see, the person standing under it who seems to be wearing the garments that of a god. It also seemed I had been floating towards him judging by the way my body is moving.

Once my feet touch the ground the figure turns around only the figure who wears clothing of a god is really an empty skull that drops to the ground. I scream when I feel hands on my body grabbing and pulling me, pushing me, and tearing at my clothes. I remember the stories mother used to tell about this place, the things and the horrors she said to have seen before she died. It was like she had been here before. This is exactly the same as her stories. This place of your worst horrors, nightmares, the palace of Tartarus. I can’t escape and I can’t run from the hands of the dead. I’m trapped. I can’t get out. I will never leave the tight hands of the dead. Never.