Charles seems much more interested in the castle. Shrugging, you follow. A looming rainstorm floats menacingly overhead.
Whoever built this monstrosity didn’t skimp the fine details. A deep-looking moat sloshes lazily beneath you, the murk betraying no reflection. Every inch of brick is
covered with twisting ivy and glistening lichen. A heavy wooden drawbridge locks you away from entry. The surrounding rings of bricks are carved in the shape of
jagged fangs. Two turrets jut into the foreboding sky, flanking a third massive center spire. You squint to make out an ornate stone gargoyle, perched in sentry duty
on the right side of the middle spire. A platform sits on the opposite side from it; it must have had a counterpart at one time.
“Creepy, huh?” Charles muses.
You are about to answer in the affirmative, when a creaking emanates from within the brick. The drawbridge slowly lowers itself as you back away, settling gently
onto the bank. Darkness looms within the gaping mouth.
“I..I t-think they want us to go in,” you stammer.
The door remains open, but you hear no answer from Charles. You look to him and see…