After days of traveling, nearly a week of pushing forward through dense forests and unexplored paths, the group finally reached a destination that felt different from the rest. As evening set in, they found themselves standing in front of a large, imposing gate. The iron gates creaked softly in the wind, their once-shiny surface now rusted and worn by the passage of time. Above the gates was a set of strange, unfamiliar words written in a language none of them recognized—an ancient script, perhaps, or a lost language long forgotten by time.
A chill ran through them as they passed through the gate, the air growing noticeably colder. On either side of the path stood twisted, gnarled trees, their bark blackened and cracked. The branches stretched high above like skeletal arms, their limbs seemingly reaching out to grasp anything that came too close. From the thick branches, large bats with glowing red eyes flew in unsettling swarms, their wings flapping loudly in the silence of the forest. The sight and sounds sent waves of terror through the group.
With every step they took deeper into the area, the atmosphere grew heavier. A strange, eerie sound filled the air—distant cries and screeches that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. The eerie cries of bird-like creatures echoed from the trees, their voices unsettling and otherworldly. Sweat dripped down their faces, their bodies tense with fear. The fear was palpable, and each step felt like they were walking deeper into a nightmare.
Soon, they arrived at an old, decaying house, standing alone in the middle of the forest clearing. The house was ancient, with walls covered in ivy and windows that seemed to stare back at them like vacant eyes. Its once grand façade now appeared cracked and weathered, as though it had been abandoned for centuries.