Mistamere Castle

Will smashes his mace against the back of the skeleton warrior – who seems much more durable than ever foe he has ever fought against. The undead doesn’t feel any pain or discomfort, and after staggering forward, it continues on its advance toward the archway. It loses all interest in Miyana once she slips out, however, his attention back on the young burly fighter instead. Swinging around with unnatural speed, it tries to cleave Will with its cursed sword!

The undead could only endure so much punishment. Finally, it succumbs to Will's relentless assault, crumpling 'lifeless' to the floor. It's unclear whether it's truly dead, as the skeleton remains almost unchanged from its animated state, aside from a few more shattered bones. At any rate, it no longer moves.

What do you do?

Boudica kicks the skeleton’s skull away, which rolls a couple of times before ending up upright, staring at her through empty eye sockets. The sword Will picked up is an ancient bronze one, and obviously magical, judging by how chilly the hilt of it felt in his hand.

An oppressive chill thickens around you once you step into the room – so cold as if you were encased by ice. The air is heavy, saturated with a putrid scent, and you immediately notice the dark liquid continuing to seep from the cracks in the walls, pooling onto the floor in slow, ominous rivulets.

However, the true horror lies before you.

At the center of the room stands a translucent, ghostly figure, its outline faint yet unmistakably humanoid. Its gaze fixes upon you with an unsettling intensity, and an unnatural coldness presses in on your minds. You feel a creeping sense of dread gnawing at your thoughts, as if something is trying to claw its way into your soul.

The ghost's pale glow casts an unnatural light over the room, revealing more of the unsettling details. A stone altar stands at the very center of the room, and on top of it rests a still-beating heart, as though it is somehow alive.

Behind the altar, two small figures crouch in the shadows. Their bodies are hunched and twisted with flesh a mottled grey, as though they are long past the point of decay. They peer out from behind the altar, their eyes glinting with a strange, unnatural awareness.

The ghost, a young and beautiful woman with long, flowing black hair and a gaping hole where her heart should have been, seemed unperturbed by the display of the holy symbol. If anything - she seems irritated by it.

Turning toward your direction, she closed the distance, gliding through the altar, her spectral hands reaching out for you...