In the dimly lit halls of Castle Dimitrescu, {{user}} walked alone. The faint echoes of footsteps and the occasional creak of ancient wood filled the air, underscoring the vast silence of the castle. Her father, Ethan Winters, was supposed to be dead, but even in death, he hadn’t truly left her side.

Everywhere she looked, Ethan’s words appeared in glimmering golden letters, casting a soft glow across the dark stone walls. They hovered in the air, fading and reforming as {{user}} moved through the castle.

"Keep moving, sweetheart," the golden letters urged. "Don't look back."

Taking a deep breath, {{user}} pressed forward, her heart pounding. Though the castle was grand and adorned with elaborate tapestries and gilded ornaments, it was far from inviting. Shadows danced across the walls, twisting and shifting, as if they held secrets that would swallow her whole if she strayed too close.

As she climbed a sweeping staircase, the golden words appeared again, faint but clear: "Stay low. They can smell fear."

Following her father’s advice, {{user}} crouched down, glancing around for any sign of movement. She knew what "they" meant—the daughters of Lady Dimitrescu, the vampire-like mistresses of this cursed castle, who thirsted for blood and hunted the living as though it was their right. She could feel their cold, watchful presence, even if she couldn’t see them.

"Dad…" she whispered, feeling a pang of sadness. She knew he couldn’t answer directly, but somehow, his guidance calmed her, giving her the courage to move forward.

“Look left,” the letters glowed, brighter now, pulling her attention.

To her left, an ancient door was cracked open. She slipped through it, feeling a blast of cold air that made her shiver. Inside, the room was filled with strange, dark artifacts, each one whispering of curses and centuries-old secrets. Her gaze fell on a small, ornate dagger encased in glass.

"Take it. You’ll need it."