The Castle loomed over the village. No one had passed its gates in beyond living memory. Some would come to seek the treasures that tales told lived therein, but the gates were always shut. One day, a boy was carried on the wind to the Castle. He was clad in rags. The only token of value he bore was a brooch which he was given by his one true love, but she had left him this in a dream before his memory began. Still, his every action was for her, in hopes that dreams do come true. For him, all the gates lay open. He entered the Castle, passing into inner chambers, until he came to a courtyard. A fountain flowed there, its beauty changed through passage to antiquity. Peering into the waters there were fish. But no! It was only scintillations of light shining in the fountain, reflecting the broken dreams of all who had lived life for a promise never met. The boy placed his brooch on the ledge of the fountain, knowing that never again could he cherish the one token of his love, but knowing that without giving it up, his dream would never pass in to being. And he knelt and hoped it would be so. For some time he stayed there until his memory passed into oblivion and he became so light that the wind called him again, carrying him beyond all knowledge. His tears fell like rain in sadness and joy.