This was Shadow Castle as it stood now: a land of perpetual gloom, where the sun could not penetrate the thick, oppressive clouds that stretched across the sky. The atmosphere was deathly still, bleak, and utterly desolate, as if the very air was drained of life.
William and the others rode in silence as they approached the central area of Shadow Castle. The eerie quiet was only broken by the sound of their horses' hooves on the barren ground. Suddenly, Metatron brought his horse to a halt. Without a word, the rest of the group followed suit, sensing that something was wrong.
Metatron's brows furrowed, his expression tense. "If we continue down this path," he said quietly, "we'll run straight into a black magician."
