Whispers in the Dark

The apex of night instilled a looming darkness over the horizon, blanketed only by the subtle fall of snow. Archers armed their positions all across the Blood Prison, securing its premises; though, their sense of sight suddenly began to betray them, and even they did not fully comprehend the illusive whisper that forcibly sealed their vision. A trail of tracks was apparent over the snow infested terrain, leading to a mysterious figure perched before the left wall of the palace, where no viable entrance existed. Draped from head to toe in a dark violet cloak, it was a rather peculiar entity, no larger than the average child; yet, it garnered a wardrobe suited for one of superior age, as evident by the dangling of the baggy clothing, and evidently enough, the cloak dragged along behind it, much like a cape.

The strange being ran the palm of its hand along the prison wall, caressing the fine texture, when suddenly, it stepped head first into it, phasing through it as if it had never once been of solid properties. As if abiding to the laws of this vigilante for whatever reason, the wall allowed entrance, clearly dismissing any hints of logic in the process. It left behind a momentarily sway --in the form of a capillary ripple-- and seized in movement altogether once the hooded figure appeared on the other side. Without hesitation, the black ant carried along through the dismissive hallways of the prized castle, allowing for the tapping of its bare feet to echo throughout the construct. Yet, it was hardly identifiable within the darkness, as even with the aide of the candle light, the puzzled prisoners could not match the sound with its perpetrator as it passed on by along their cells.