A hauntingly beautiful castle stood atop a hill.
Its towering spires pierced the night sky, and jagged battlements crowned its dark stone walls. Ornate arches framed the tall, narrow windows.
Ivy crawled up the weathered stone, twisting around gargoyles and crumbling statues that watched over the ground with hollowed eyes.
Despite its grandeur, there was something deeply unsettling about this castle. Its beauty felt cold and lifeless, as though the entire structure had been frozen in time.
A heavy silence settled over the hill, broken only by the occasional cry of a distant raven or the howl of a wolf.
On a stone balcony at one of the upper levels of the castle, a figure stood silently, leaning against the railing.
He wore a rich, crimson doublet. Over it, he wore a dark, long-fitted coat that fell almost to his knees. A dark cloak hung over his shoulders, which were protected by ornate pauldrons.
