Whispers of Aeloria
Whispers of Aeloria The Forgotten Castle
Long ago, nestled in the verdant cradle of the Elderglen Forest, there stood a castle of silver-veined stone and moon-kissed spires. It was called Aeloria, the Castle of Winds, and it sang in the breeze like a harp string touched by the hand of fate. Its banners once fluttered with the sigils of House Vaelthorne—guardians of peace, stewards of song, and the last dreamers of the Vale.
But time is a sly and secretive sorcerer, and even the grandest tales may slip beneath its shroud.
Aeloria fell not to war, nor ruin, but to silence. One mist-laced morning, as dawn yawned golden across the hills, the castle’s gates were found unbarred, its torches unlit, its halls empty of footfall or voice. The people vanished—nobles, knights, even the little cat who curled beside the hearth in the Rose Tower. No sign of struggle, no cry for help. Just… silence, and the scent of lavender and parchment lingering in the air.
For centuries, bards sang of its mystery. Some claimed the castle had slipped into a realm of dreams, pulled away by the stars themselves. Others whispered of a spell cast too deep, meant to protect, but now forgotten. Aeloria became a tale for children, a name breathed like a lullaby: half hope, half memory.
Yet the castle remained.
Hidden by ivy-draped canopies and guarded by foxes with eyes like amber lanterns, Aeloria stood untouched by decay. Flowers still bloomed in its gardens, and lanterns flickered to life each dusk without a hand to tend them. The fountain in the central court sang its crystalline tune, and the great bell in the Moonspire tolled each equinox—though no soul remained to mark the time.
Then came Elira, a girl of ink-stained fingers and wandering eyes, who followed dreams as others followed maps. She was a cartographer’s apprentice, born with an uncanny sense for paths no one else could see. One morning, drawn by the echoes of a song she swore she heard only in her sleep, Elira veered off the trail, past the edge of every known chart.
The forest welcomed her.
Foxes watched her with knowing gazes, and the wind seemed to hum a melody only she could follow. Deeper and deeper she wandered until she stumbled upon a bridge of woven vines and starlight—one that had no right to exist in the waking world.
And beyond it: Aeloria.
The castle gates creaked open for her, sighing like a long-forgotten friend. Inside, dustless corridors stretched like memories reborn. Books opened at her touch, revealing secrets written in luminous ink. In the throne room, the great crystal throne glimmered softly, as if it had waited for her all along.
Elira did not flee. She listened.
Night after night, the wind told her stories of those who had lived and laughed there, of a queen who wove enchantments into lullabies, of a prince who danced with shadows, of a court who dared to dream the world better. The people had not perished—they had been preserved, caught in a slumber outside of time, hidden in the folds between reality and reverie.
Elira found the heart of the spell in the Tower of Whispers, wrapped in runes like vines. With the gentlest of songs, and a heart unburdened by greed or fear, she unwound the enchantment.
And the castle breathed.
Lights burst from every window like stars returning to the sky. Laughter spilled down the stairwells. Gardens bloomed anew, and the air was filled with music. The people awoke, their faces alight with awe—and though centuries had passed, to them, it had been but a moment’s sleep.
Elira was named Warden of the Winds, and Aeloria thrived once more, not as a fortress of power, but as a sanctuary of dreams and stories. Pilgrims came not for conquest, but for peace—for here, they could remember what the world had forgotten:
That beauty can be a refuge.
That silence may hold secrets, not sorrows.
And that some castles are not lost… merely waiting to be found.
🜲 Ballad of the Whispered Winds 🜲
Now, for the ballad sung in honor of Aeloria:
〔Intro〕
Where moonlight meets the ancient stone,
And time forgets its pace,
A castle sleeps in silver grown—
A dream the stars embrace.
〔Verse I〕
The towers rose through hush and green,
Above the silent trees,
Where foxes guard what once had been,
And lanterns light the breeze.
Its halls remember laughter’s song,
Though none have walked its way—
Yet still it stands, so proud, so strong,
Awaiting break of day.
〔Chorus — whispered like wind through leaves〕
Whispered winds, carry me…
Through the veil of memory,
To where the dreaming castle lies,
Beneath the ever-watching skies…
Aeloria… Aeloria…
〔Verse II〕
A girl with maps and starlit skin
Found truth in hidden rhyme.
She woke the winds that dwelled within,
And turned the key of time.
Now bells once hushed do sweetly chime,
The court returns in grace—
And all who dream shall surely find
Aeloria’s warm embrace.
〔Bridge〕
Not all that’s lost is gone for good,
Not all tales fade to dusk—
The heart that seeks with hope and light
May stir the sleeping husk.
For castles built with love and lore
Shall ever stand once more…
〔Chorus — crescendo, then fading〕
Whispered winds, carry me…
Through the veil of memory,
To where the dreaming castle lies,
Beneath the ever-watching skies…
Aeloria… Aeloria…
〔Outro〕
So sing, ye hearts, of star-bound things,
Where silence hides the keys—
And listen close when twilight brings
The wind among the trees…
Gentle, wistful, and enchanted… with a sense of timelessness, like mist curling through forgotten halls.
Instruments:
- Harp: To twinkle like starlight on dewdrops—perfect for the intro and bridge.
- Wooden Flute / Irish Whistle: Whispering melodies that feel like the wind’s own lullaby. Ideal for verses and soft refrains.
- Celtic Fiddle (lightly bowed): To add warmth and old-world soul, especially in the chorus.
- Soft Choral Pads: A wordless choir (mostly female alto/soprano) for the background—used sparingly to evoke the sense of voices long asleep.
- Piano (light and echoing): To carry the rhythm delicately, almost like footsteps in a forgotten hall.
- Aeolian Wind Chimes or Wind FX: For atmosphere—especially in transitions and the whispered chorus, mimicking nature’s hush.
- Cello (muted): For the deeper emotional undercurrent, swelling gently during the bridge and final chorus.
Tempo:
Lento to Andante — slow to gentle walking pace, to give breath and space between lines.
Style Comparison:
Imagine a blend between Clannad, Loreena McKennitt, and Joe Hisaishi, with a hint of Howard Shore’s elven themesfrom The Lord of the Rings.
