Chapter 1: The Whispering Shadows
The night was thick with fog, wrapping the narrow streets of Ravenscroft Manor in a shroud of eerie silence. Only the faint flicker of gas lamps pierced the darkness, casting long, twisted shadows that danced along the cobblestone pathways. Ephri Ravenscroft stood motionless at the edge of the manor's crumbling balcony, his gaze fixed on the distant lights of the city below.
Once, this manor had been the heart of his family's power—a symbol of their nobility. Now, it was a hollow shell, much like the man who stood upon its remains. Ephri's sharp features were barely visible in the dim light, but the glint in his dark gray eyes betrayed the storm brewing within him.
A cold breeze swept through the air, carrying with it the faintest of whispers—voices that only Ephri could hear. They spoke of vengeance, of power, of the dark path he had chosen. He clenched his fists, the weight of his pact with the demon of nightmares pressing heavily on his soul. There was no turning back now.
Beneath his feet, the manor creaked, as if it too felt the presence of the darkness that had seeped into its walls. Ephri's thoughts wandered to the book—an ancient, leather-bound tome that had unlocked the forbidden knowledge he now wielded. It had promised him the strength to reclaim what was lost, but at what cost?
The shadows around him seemed to grow thicker, more alive, as if they sensed his turmoil. He could feel their eyes on him, their silent judgment. The city below, with its glowing windows and bustling streets, felt like another world—a world he was no longer a part of. His destiny lay in the shadows, where nightmares took shape and where he would exact his revenge.
Suddenly, a voice broke through the stillness, low and menacing. "Are you ready to begin, Ephri?"
Ephri turned, his gaze meeting the figure that had emerged from the darkness. The demon, a being of nightmares and fear, stood before him, its form shifting and indistinct, yet undeniably powerful. This was the being with whom he had made his unholy pact, the creature that would guide him on his path of vengeance.
Ephri nodded, his voice cold and resolute. "Yes. It's time."