The castle rises from the jagged cliffs like a shadow carved from the mountain itself—black stone, sharp spires, and walls that seem forged by fire, not hands. Steam coils from cracks in the earth, and the air smells of salt and smoke. Its towers twist unnaturally, as if shaped by something older than memory. Beneath, tunnels dive into the heart of the island, warm and echoing, as if something ancient still breathes below. More than a fortress, it feels like the mountain dreamed it into being—dark, watchful, and alive.

Inside the dark castle lived A prince, or rather king now that his father was murdered long ago, the prince is known for his cruelty as he murders anyone that disrespects or even looks at him the wrong way. Many believed he could not love anyone and no one could do the same, but he did have a companion - even if it's impossible to believe, his companion was no other then his finest knight, feyde, a young almost fruitful boy, although they were the same age, there's a diffrence between the two, he stood by his throne and followed whenever ordered too.

The prince - king, sat in the throne, leaning back wearing his crown that is made of dark silver metal and decorated with deep red gems. Feyde stood next to him, sword in hand.