Four Months: Ravian (6)

Ravian ascended the grand staircase, each step echoing with a sense of purpose, leading him to the first floor. As he reached the top, his golden eyes were drawn to the glass windows, where the land beyond lay shrouded in dense fog. The sunlight, struggling to penetrate the mist, cast weak and ethereal beams that danced with the silhouettes of distant trees. The fog acted as a gentle filter, allowing him to experience the diluted glow of sunlight without the discomfort that usually accompanied his undead nature.

The hallway was dimly lit, the only sources of illumination being the elegant chandeliers that hung from the ceiling and the pairs of brass lanterns that adorned the walls beside the wooden doors. Their soft glow added to the mystical ambiance, casting shadows that seemed to move and shift with a life of their own. The dense fog outside softened the sunlight's touch, sparing Ravian the body-wide itch that sunlight usually inflicted on his undead form.

With a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, Ravian made his way down the hallway, the sound of his shoes tapping on the polished floor creating a rhythmic echo that resonated through the castle's corridors. The sound was haunting yet comforting, a reminder of his dominion over this grand structure.

Soon, he found himself before a flight of stairs, leading to a balcony. The stairs were carved from white marble, a stone known for its purity and strength, quarried from the distant Alabaster Peaks. As he ascended, his hand brushed against the intricately carved white stone rails, each detail a testament to the craftsmanship that had gone into creating this architectural marvel.

Beyond the rails, a bed of wolfsbane and roses stretched out, their vibrant colors muted by the fog, yet still managing to lend a touch of life to the scene. The combination of the wild wolfsbane and the elegant roses seemed to mirror Ravian's own complex nature, a blend of the untamed and the refined.

Finally, Ravian stood at the edge of the balcony, his eyes taking in the breathtaking view of the fog-covered moss forest, surrounded by the gigantic mountain ridges with snowy peaks. The sunlight, progressively diluted by the fog, illuminated just enough details about the enclosed biome to reveal more than mere dark silhouettes peeking through the mist. The scene was a symphony of light and shadow, a dance of nature's beauty and mystery, and Ravian found himself lost in the moment, a silent observer to the world's quiet majesty.

Ravian took a deep breath, savoring the atmosphere of the day in this new world. It was a sensation he had long been denied, having been confined to the shadows and forced to shield himself from direct sunlight without the enchanted sunglasses or parasol. Now, standing on the balcony, his arms resting on the intricately carved railing, he could truly appreciate the beauty of the day. Yet, amidst this tranquility, he felt something at the edge of his senses, a subtle disturbance, as if something or someone was intruding into his domain.

Closing his eyes, Ravian reached out with his mind, connecting with the creatures that served as his eyes and ears. Through the eyes of bats and the senses of rats scuttling through the fog, he began to perceive the trespassers. One or two humanoid figures emerged, their forms vague and shadowy, moving cautiously through the dense mist.

As the figures multiplied, Ravian's curiosity grew, but he remained content to watch from a distance. This unexpected intrusion could be an opportunity, a first step into rejoining civilization. His golden eyes, now open, continued to gaze into the fog, his mind alert and calculating, assessing the situation with a calm detachment.

The fog-shrouded forest, once a place of solitude and reflection, had become a stage for a new and intriguing development. Ravian's heart, though still and undead, seemed to quicken with anticipation. The world beyond his castle had finally found him.

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At the edges of the region, where the mystical fog gradually blurred into the clear air of daytime, a group of travelers stumbled upon Ravian's magical creation. Their nearest destination was a town in the Barony of Seraphel's Vale, and they were well aware of the news regarding the devastating monster attacks that had occurred in the villages weeks ago. The fog was an unexpected sight, and they halted, their eyes wide with curiosity and uncertainty, their voices hushed as they debated their next move.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" one traveler asked, his voice tinged with awe. "Never seen the like of this in Seraphel's Vale," one of them, a grizzled elder, muttered, his voice tinged with suspicion. They exchanged glances, their faces reflecting a mix of fascination and concern.

One of them, a curious woman with bright eyes and auburn hair, reached out to touch the fog. Her fingers trembled slightly as they made contact with the ethereal mist.

"It's not cold," she announced, her voice filled with wonder, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the fog. "It's unlike the mountain mists that descend in the morn. Magic?"

"Aye, it must be magical in some way," another traveler, a grizzled veteran with a scarred face and a weathered sword at his side, agreed, his eyes narrowing as he studied the fog. His hand instinctively reached for the hilt of his weapon, in case malevolent magic was afoot.

"If it's magical, there must be a cause," a third traveler, a scholarly young man with spectacles perched on his nose and a book clutched in his hand, chimed in, his voice tinged with excitement. He flipped through the pages, as if searching for an explanation within the ancient texts.

"What could cause such a thing?" the woman asked, her eyes wide with curiosity, her hand still lingering in the fog, fascinated by its texture and warmth.

The scholarly traveler began to list the possibilities out loud one by one, his voice filled with fascination, his eyes alight with intellectual curiosity. "It could be a wizard's experiment gone awry," he said, his eyes twinkling, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns on the cover of his book.

"It could be a natural phenomenon, enhanced by some magical source," he mused. "Or perhaps it's a protective barrier, hiding something or someone." His voice trailed off as he looked into the fog, his eyes narrowing as if trying to pierce its secrets.

"Whatever it is, we must proceed with caution. This fog is not to be taken lightly." The others nodded, their faces set with determination, ready to face the unknown that lay ahead.

The travelers' speculations were abruptly halted as their eyes caught sight of a silvery dome in the distance, rising above the fog and reflecting the sunlight. It shone like the moon appearing in daytime, its brightness rivaling the sun itself. The sight was mesmerizing, and they stood in awe, their minds racing with possibilities.

"Look there!" the scholarly young man exclaimed, pointing towards the dome. "That must be a castle, and whoever owns it must be the source of this fog." The others followed his gaze, their eyes widening at the sight. "Could it be a wizard's abode?" the curious woman wondered aloud.

Seeing the castle in good condition and not run down or abandoned, they cautiously entered the fog, their steps measured and their senses alert. "We must be careful," the grizzled veteran warned, his voice low and serious. "The monster attacks make it unsafe to camp, but this castle might offer us shelter." They nodded in agreement, the memory of the recent attacks on the villages weighing heavily on their minds.

They turned on some of their lanterns, illuminating the path with magical spells that allowed the fire to burn without consuming its fuel. The light cast an ethereal glow, and the fog itself seemed to respond, noticeably and gradually decreasing in density near the lanterns. "The fog yields to our light," the scholarly traveler observed, his voice filled with wonder. "It's as if it's guiding us."

The last to enter the fog were four travelers who brought their carts, laden with concealed goods covered under large blankets of coarse medieval cloth. "Keep those carts close," the grizzled veteran commanded, his eyes scanning the fog for any signs of danger. "We don't know what lies ahead." The cart drivers nodded, their hands gripping the reins tightly, their faces etched with determination.

With a sense of trepidation and excitement, they made their way towards the castle, the silvery dome growing larger as they approached. The fog seemed to part before them, the dirt path illuminated by their magical lanterns. The castle's grandeur became more apparent with each step, its majestic towers and intricate architecture revealing themselves through the mist.

"Whose castle could this be?" the curious woman asked, her eyes wide with wonder. "It couldn't be Baron Alaric's; if it were, everyone would have known." The others nodded, their minds filled with questions. Building a castle in secret was not something most nobles would even think of, and the mystery deepened.

As they passed through the noticeably thorny undergrowth and the unusual prevalence of sharp rose bushes, their speculations approached closer to the truth. The landscape seemed to whisper secrets, and the travelers felt a strange connection to the land. "These roses, they're not ordinary," the grizzled veteran observed, his hand brushing against a particularly sharp thorn.

"A wizard, perhaps, and a new noble one," the scholarly traveler mused, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Or perhaps a powerful fey," another chimed in, his voice filled with excitement. Their discussions were filled with banter, yet there was an underlying seriousness to their words.

Despite their discussions, the group of travelers were clearly armed and ready to strike at any time. Swords were sheathed, but hands rested near hilts, and eyes darted, ever watchful. "Stay alert," the grizzled veteran warned, his voice firm. "We know not what awaits us."

Several of the travelers showed visible signs of high alarm and nervousness as they walked in the fog, their eyes darting and hands gripping their weapons tightly. Others continued in their verbal speculations, their voices filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension. "What manner of place is this?" one of them whispered, his voice trembling. "A place of magic, surely," another replied, his eyes wide with wonder.

This arrangement continued for about two hours, the group walking and following a dirt path that seemed to be conveniently present to navigate in the forest. The path was like a guiding hand, leading them through the mist and towards the unknown. The fog seemed to dance around them, its tendrils reaching out, then retreating, as if playing a game.

Until, they reached the outer walls of the castle. These walls were not made of bricks but were almost chalk-like white in color. The walls towered over them, rising ten meters in height and gradually blocking their view of the baroque white castle and its surrounding gardens and buildings. "Look at the size of it!" one of the travelers exclaimed, his voice filled with awe.

It dawned on them that the castle and the land enclosed by this gigantic wall was easily half the size of a city, and larger than even the king's palace. "Not even the most exaggerated tales of the palace can compare to this white castle," the scholarly traveler observed, his voice filled with reverence. The others nodded, their minds struggling to comprehend the grandeur before them.

As they began to comprehend this even further, the gigantic steel doors of the wall opened on their own. The travelers froze, their eyes fixed on the slowly opening doors. "Did anyone else see that?" the curious woman asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "The doors, they opened by themselves."