Darkness swirls in the corners of the castle, an icy draft rushes through the corridors, howls under the high vaults of the ceiling, sweeps cobwebs and flakes of dust across the cracked stone floors. In the middle of an ancient hall stands the dark gloomy bulk, reigning over the surrounding devastation.

The pale light of the cold moon filters through the dusty, opaque panes of the tall, slender windows, casting its glow upon the gleaming bones and darkened iron of the swords that form the massive, intimidating throne. The room seems still, but suddenly a quiet screech pierces the silence, a metal-clad hand on the armrest of the throne shifts. Two lifeless, dim lights glow in the darkness. An imperious, strong voice reflectes from the time-scarred walls of the stone palace, creating an echo.

"Whom dares disturb mine peace?"