Frank advanced toward the ruins without looking back. The night wind blew sand among the collapsed structures, and a few figures slept among the stone rubble. They were homeless locals using the place as a makeshift shelter, wrapped in blankets and silent.
He walked carefully, making sure not to get too close; his footsteps didn't echo among the fractured columns. No one seemed to notice him, or at least no one looked up as he passed through the shadows. The atmosphere had an unsettling stillness, as if even the wind were careful not to disturb anything.
Reaching the top of the hill, he looked toward the castle. From below, it looked like a dark mass silhouetted against the moonless sky, motionless and imposing. At that moment, the mark on his wrist intensified, not as a simple burning sensation, but as a deep pain that forced him to tense his hand.
