Inside the walls of the ruins, a tall grass grew wildly - a melancholic reminder of the implacability of Time. Nature had brutally taken power over a place once owned by humankind. Souls long lost, now only vestiges dispersed in the wild.

At distance, Max could see rubbles of fountains, beautifully sculpted in the form of angels, of ballerinas, of warriors.

Whoever made this Castle, sure was a hell of an draftsman.

They walked silently amidst the reeds, often staggering on rocks or big mud puddles, which difficulted the process of walking considerably.

Since no one felt like talking, Mr. Rabbit tried to warm up the mood, even if just a little.

“You see, Max, the legends say beautiful things about the place we are traversing right now… beautiful things.”

“What kind of things, Mr. Rabbit?”.

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