SINA

“I watched the first lights flicker on in 1883 — Carol had mortgaged his German estates for every stone. One hundred and sixty rooms. The first fully electrified castle in Europe. He wept when he saw it finished, you know.”

“One hundred and forty-seven plates. An unknown language — older than Latin, older than memory. They found them in the foundation dig. Some say he sold them and had lead copies made for the monastery museum. I know where the originals are. Some questions answer themselves, if you stand in the right place long enough.”

“Marie called it her 'little nest.' Art Nouveau, because she had taste Carol never quite understood. She designed every room herself. The Gold Room upstairs — Byzantine, not European. She knew exactly who she was.”

“Mihail Cantacuzino returned from his pilgrimage to Mount Sinai in Egypt and named this whole valley after it. A holy echo across distance and centuries. The monks who came here were running from something — or toward something.”

“He composed the Romanian Rhapsodies here, in the early mornings before the mist lifted from the Bucegi. I could hear it from the gardens — that melody that sounds like mountains sighing. His memorial house is on Calea Moroeni. The piano still holds his warmth.”

“On moonless nights, above the castle park — floating lights. Blue-gold. Moving slowly, purposefully. The old groundskeepers call them "focurile lui Carol." The gold coins buried in the foundation, their energy escaping upward. I have seen them. I still see them.”