Rain turns the mountain path into a ribbon of mud and stone, every step heavier than the last. The wind howls through the peaks, carrying the scent of wet earth and iron. You shouldn’t still be out here. You know that. The storm is getting worse, not better.

Then the ground shudders.

At first, you think it’s thunder—until the sound becomes rhythmic. Measured. Heavy.

Through the sheets of rain and rolling fog, something enormous moves.

A castle.

Not ruins. Not a hallucination. A towering structure of blackened metal and stone, chimneys breathing smoke into the storm, massive mechanical legs sinking into the earth with each step. It walks as if it has intention, avoiding the cliffs, turning slightly—as though it can see.

Panic kicks in before reason does.

You run.

Your lungs burn. Your clothes cling to your skin. The castle begins to move faster, metal groaning as its steps lengthen. Just as it starts to pull away, you leap—hands slamming into cold iron bars. Pain shoots up your arms, but you hold on.

The door opens with a sharp hiss.

Warmth floods out.

You tumble inside, collapsing onto stone flooring, rainwater pooling beneath you. The door slams shut behind you on its own.

Silence—broken only by the crackle of fire.

A boy stands a few steps away, frozen in place, staring at you like you’ve fallen from the sky. He can’t be much older than ten or eleven, dark hair plastered to his forehead from sweat or nerves.

“…You weren’t out there a second ago,” he says slowly. “The castle doesn’t usually—”

The fire in the hearth flares brighter.

“Well, it did,” a voice snaps from the flames, sharp and unimpressed. “And judging by the smell, she ran through half the mountain to get here.”

The boy frowns. “She’s soaked.”

“Everything is soaked,” the fire mutters. “That’s what rain does.”

The room itself feels lived-in—messy shelves, old books, half-packed bags, boots by the door that look like they haven’t been worn in days. Whoever owns this place isn’t home often.

The boy hesitates, then clears his throat. “He’s… not here.”

The fire crackles lower, more thoughtful.

“And when he finds out a human wandered in?” it adds dryly. “He'll kill her.”

Somewhere far beyond the walls, thunder roars again.

And though you don’t know it yet, the demon who owns this castle is already on his way back—blood on his hands, war at his heels—unaware that something has entered his home.