ARCANE.
The castle of Arcane loomed under the sickly glow of the moon, its spires stretching toward the heavens as if clawing at the sky itself.
The room was deathly still, save for the faint flicker of candlelight casting elongated shadows along the walls. The air hung thick with the scent of old parchment, melted wax, and dried blood—relics of a past drenched in violence and knowledge forbidden to most. It was the chamber of a being who had walked the earth for centuries, a sanctum of both wisdom and terror.
Zereth, the Elder of the vampires—father of Zagreus. An immortal, so powerful, that the mere mention of his name struck fear into the hearts of both the living and the damned. And yet, despite the power that coursed through his very being, he lay in an almost deathlike slumber.
