The black castle of House Morgain loomed in the distance, its towers piercing the grey-white clouds like frozen spears. Snow never stopped falling here—not because of weather, but altitude. The entire territory rested so high in the mountains that the sun rarely touched the ground.
Trafalgar leaned against the rail of the upper deck, arms crossed, wind biting at his cheeks. Icy flakes melted against his skin and dark coat.
'Now this looks like a demonic castle. The other one was just… fake fancy. This one? Gives off proper cursed energy.'
He narrowed his eyes as the ship approached the main platform carved into the side of a cliff. Enchanted lights flickered along the castle walls, and gothic statues of long-dead Morgains lined the perimeter like silent sentinels.
'How long has it been? A week? Maybe more... with all the back-and-forth and those three days missing in the mine, time's kind of a blur.'
