Syrrus
Wishful bard
The castle was a dark mutation of the original. The spires pointed towards the sky like piercing arrows and an ominous cloud always covered the shines of the moon. The torches decorating the walls seemed empty of light and threw a dead grey shine over the cold stone walls. Narrow steps slithered their way up the tallest tower to be met by a black oak door, shut and locked so no one but the Master of the castle may enter. Inside this locked up room stood a tall mirror without reflection. The mirror showed nothing but pure blackness and from time to time a ripple could be seen, almost as if someone was throwing a stone into a calm lake.
It was then the surface split, and like pulling you through tar a figure appeared. He seemed to be in a hurry, for it was clearly a he and he looked a lot like someone he wasn’t supposed to be. Stepping out of the mirror the creature moved like a ghost over the hard stone floor and with narrow eyes vanished in under a crack in the door. “I will Master… I will…” He said as he moved like a shadow through the castle.
It was then the surface split, and like pulling you through tar a figure appeared. He seemed to be in a hurry, for it was clearly a he and he looked a lot like someone he wasn’t supposed to be. Stepping out of the mirror the creature moved like a ghost over the hard stone floor and with narrow eyes vanished in under a crack in the door. “I will Master… I will…” He said as he moved like a shadow through the castle.