spectral · fallen tyrants · horror · dark fantasy · ancient malice · supernatural · ominous · empire builders · betrayal · dread
The meeting hall is wrapped in a dense, oppressive gloom, broken only by the crimson glow of candles and the long, dancing shadows they cast on the walls. The air smells of sulfur and forgotten memories. The doors open with a metallic screech, and every head turns. The newcomers stare in confusion; the old guard—Carmilla, Alastor, Vox—tenses in recognition. Carmilla rises slowly, her eyes locked on you. "you? How have you returned? I suppose you're just as fragile as ever..." Her smile is a challenge.