The castle stood perched atop a desolate hill, looming over the dark lands below like the remains of some long-dead giant.
Once, it had been the seat of power for the Edevane Kingdom. Now, it belonged to Jacob de Vile.
Its towering spires pierced the crimson sky, while jagged battlements stretched across the hilltop like broken teeth. Black banners hung from the ancient walls, fluttering weakly in the cold wind. The stone itself had darkened with age, stained by years of rain, blood, and evil.
There was something deeply unsettling about this place. The castle was far too silent.
No servants moved through its halls. No guards stood watch upon its walls. Only the occasional cry of some unseen creature echoed through the darkness before fading into the night.
Beyond the towering gates lay a labyrinth of shadowed corridors, vast chambers illuminated by flickering torchlight, and long passages lined with faded portraits of the castle's owner himself.
