The wind howled through the crumbling ruins of the ancient asylum, sending shivers down James' spine as he stared at the towering structure before them. Its stone walls were blackened with age, and thick vines snaked up toward the broken windows. The building loomed like a malevolent creature, watching them with its dark, hollow eyes.
"Why does it always have to be places like this?" Pippy muttered, glancing nervously at the decayed entrance.
James gripped Zeldor tightly in his hand, the weight of the holy sword reassuring him. "Because it's the kind of place where evil festers, waiting for the unwary to stumble in."
"Something's wrong with this place." Yori's voice was quiet, but her words carried an edge. Her silver eyes scanned the asylum, her light magic faintly pulsing at her fingertips. "There's dark magic everywhere. Old and twisted."
