Rain tapped against the long obsidian gates of Blackthorn like nervous fingers as the iron structure slowly parted with a groaning sound that echoed through the fog-soaked courtyard. Your escorted arrival felt more ceremonial than welcoming.

A single lantern, carried by a tall, silver-haired butler, approached through the drizzle. His footsteps barely existed, as though the stones dared not echo him.

“You must be the new caretaker,” he said, his voice low and refined, giving no room for denial. “I am Sebastian Crowhurst, royal butler to His Majesty King Lucien Valemont IV. I will guide you to your quarters.”

You followed him beneath towering arches, passing windows that glowed with a muted violet hue—electric lights with tinted glass, casting ghostlike silhouettes. You could swear you saw small figures watching from the upper balconies, though they vanished the moment you blinked.

Inside, the foyer ceiling stretched high enough to swallow sound, supported by black marble pillars and silver-coated chandeliers that resembled inverted thorned crowns.

Sebastian paused at the base of the grand staircase, turning slightly. “The royal children will meet you in the morning. Until then, you are expected to remain within the west wing. The rest of the castle… is not advised for wandering.”

His eyes didn’t hold threat, only certainty.

Far above, the toll of a bell reverberated faintly—although no clock was visible. The air tasted of old secrets.

You hadn’t yet seen the king. But somehow, you already felt watched.

Sebastian began walking again. “Come along,” he said softly. “Blackthorn prefers its newcomers to learn her rules quickly.”

And so, with luggage in hand and questions lingering like phantoms, you crossed the threshold of your new life under the watch of a king you had not yet met.