In the heart of the dark, mist-shrouded Ravenspire Mountains lies Castle Ruffilo, a sprawling gothic fortress with a sinister reputation. Once a sanctuary of divine light, it has since become a lair of shadows, ruled by the fallen angel Lord Nichola...
"This isn't funny, Folio. Switch on the lights," I demanded, my voice edged with frustration as the darkness pressed in around me.
"Oh come on, you're still just standing there? Move closer," he replied, his tone casual, but it did little to settle my nerves.
"My eyes aren't adjusting to the dark... I can't see anything," I said, genuine worry creeping into my voice. I sensed a shift in him and with a soft sigh he moved toward me.
I heard his footsteps before I felt his touch, the soft graze of his fingers sliding down my arm until they found my hand. "Here," he murmured, gently pulling me forward. It felt like being drawn out of the opaque night itself, like we both just walked between rooms separated by a solid veil leaving behind the staircase still shrouded in darkness which seemed quite literally impenetrable to light itself.
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We stepped away from the suffocating darkness into something enchanting; a room bathed in a surreal, glowing light. The shift was so sudden it nearly stole my breath. Morning sunlight streamed in from a high window, casting soft beams across the space, yet somehow, the light never reached the stairwell behind us, as if held back by some unseen force. There had to be magic involved here somewhere. I make a mental note of it to ask him about it when we leave and somehow I'm already dreading having to traverse through the dark again.
The room felt old, but it was beautiful—the kind of place that called to your soul, it beckoned me to stay. I was in a trance. Lanterns of all shapes and sizes hung from exposed wooden beams, casting an ethereal glow. These weren't ordinary flames either. They hovered like orbs, shimmering with a soft, almost otherworldly light.
"What are these?" I asked, stepping closer to one, drawn to its mesmerising glow.
"Careful," Folio said, his voice gentle but firm, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. "They could burn a hole right through your flesh."
"But they look harmles-" My hand hovered near the glowing orb, entranced by its beauty.
"They're not," he interjected quickly before I could get any closer, his hand brushing mine as he gently pulled me back. "It's a non-material spark. My grandfather created them through divination, a gift from Angel Ronald. An eternal flame, but just as dangerous as it is beautiful. I can't risk selling them. Too many people could get hurt." There was no way I could leave it at that, my curiosity piqued.
"I must say, Folio," I said, arching a brow at him, "unfortunately you're quite an intriguing character and I must ask, what happened to your grandfather?" He folds his arms and I see him don a serious expression for the first time. Walking towards one of the orbs, his face tightens as if he was reliving a painful moment in time. His back turned to me he starts talking,
"He died not long after... and it leaves me wondering. Days and nights spent in rituals and for what? To gain this power to summon flames that seem like they've come straight from the depths of hell? It only gives me questions, but never any answers."
