The wooden castle was already sparsely populated, and with the raging war against the undead outside, it had all but turned into a ghost fortress. The echo of distant clashes barely reached its ancient, creaking halls. The once-bustling corridors now felt hollow, their silence more oppressive than any battlefield.
Within this somber quiet, the undead princess moved with absolute ease, each step echoing off the polished wooden floors like a slow, deliberate toll of a funeral bell. Her pale figure glided forward, unbothered and unchallenged, as though she had been the mistress of this place all along.
But just as she was about to step into the inner sanctum of the spiritual orchard, a strange feeling washed over her. She halted.
Her nose twitched once. Then again.
She inhaled deeply, her crimson pupils narrowing. "This aura..."
Her voice was low, almost a whisper, yet laced with a sudden intensity that shattered her calm. A thin ripple of darkness stirred around her feet.
