The grand chamber located somwhere in the forbidden premises of the banished castle was dimly lit, a place where shadows seemed to cling to the very air itself. The scent of blood and iron hung faintly around the stone walls, and the flickering light of sconces cast an ominous glow on the long, black table where Ravenor sat. His presence, a looming shadow of power and menace, filled the room as he watched his advisors assemble around him.
Ravenor leaned back in his chair, his pitch-black eyes scanning each of the figures gathered before him. They were a motley group, each selected for their talents and willingness to operate outside the bounds of law or morality. His advisors were not mere subordinates; they were specialists in fields that no one dared to openly speak of—masters of the forbidden, the corrupt, the unspeakable.
