Maeve
Keaton was standing with his arms crossed, peering up at the ceiling of the sprawling foyer of the castle of Poldesse. The ceiling was gone, however, having crumbled away long ago. Vines had taken over the entire area, and the walls were covered in graffiti. I thought it rather artistic, especially the more colorful graffiti with even more colorful language.
Troy, however, was deeply stressed.
“Your dad did this on purpose. He’s testing us–” he huffed, kicking pieces of fallen sheetrock as we walked through the remains of the castle.
“What? Was he the one who ripped this place apart?” I said as I ran my fingers along the banister of the wide marble staircase as we started up the stairs.
“No, but he knew how much work was needed when he sent us here–”
“It was a hurricane, ro
