The bright orange candlelight bathed the narrow wooden desk in the castle's highest tower with its warm glow. Each time a chilly draft brushed against the tiny flame, it elicited a peculiar dance of tall shadows on the bedroom's empty walls. The room seemed filled with ominous black phantoms, compelled to move as if under the influence of a mysterious magic spell.
Ahspid lethargically turned another page of a thick notebook adorned with a black leather cover and runic writings in glowing purple ink. His deep, narrowed eyes remained fixed on the notes meticulously written on the yellowed pages.
With a long sigh, he rubbed his tired eyes, shaking his head in an attempt to dispel the encroaching sense of unwelcome fatigue.
