The grand halls of the Rackenshore Town's mayoral mansion were filled with the echo of frantic footsteps and the desperate shouts of Baron Edris Wyndhall. His voice, filled with panic and fear, rang through every corridor, calling for his son.
"RON! MY SON!" Baron Edris bellowed, his face flushed with worry, as he rushed down the hallway toward his son's chambers. The grand house, usually quiet and dignified, was now alive with chaos. Servants scrambled in every direction, their faces pale as they whispered among themselves.
The door to Ron's room stood wide open, and the baron stormed inside, his heart racing in his chest. His eyes swept over the empty bed, the open window, and the scattered belongings. It was as if Ron had vanished into thin air. But what caught Edris' attention—and sent a cold chill down his spine—was the letter left conspicuously on his son's desk.
