King Caladorn ruled with unmatched cruelty, his iron grip tightening around a once-great fortress now cold and lifeless. Darkness clung to every corner, mirroring the blackness of his heart. He reveled in his subjects' suffering and drew pleasure from their fear. Control was his greatest love, servants dared not meet his gaze, knowing it could mean death. The castle was silent, save for the occasional scream from the dungeons below.

But then, something changed.

At first, it was subtle, a flicker in his vision, a shadow in the dim torchlight. He dismissed it as a product of his restless nights. But sightings grew more frequent, dark corridors he once roamed felt inhabited. A faceless apparition formed from the shadows began to appear, sometimes just out of reach, sometimes watching him, unsettling him like nothing before.

Caladorn was used to instilling fear, not feeling it. This was different; he sensed he was being watched and lost control for the first time. The silent apparition sparked an obsession in him, driving him to patrol the castle day and night, his eyes growing wilder as he sought to capture and break the figure like everything else.

As the specter appeared more frequently, Caladorn became increasingly erratic. He could no longer find solace in others' suffering, his thoughts were consumed by this uncontrollable presence. He lashed out at his terrified servants, demanding they find it to prove he wasn’t mad, but no one else saw the shadow. Alone in his obsession, his sleepless nights stretched on, haunted by the endless corridors of his castle.

The balance of power shifted. Caladorn, once thriving on dominance, now faced an uncontrollable force slipping through his grasp like smoke. Consumed by obsession, he began to unravel.

His fearsome reign unraveled into paranoia. The castle, once silent under his iron grip, now echoed with frantic footsteps. Darkness, once an ally, mocked him. In the shadowed corridors, Caladorn had become the prey.