It was a dark night.
Sinuous shadows slithered sinisterly, while the air whispered through the trees.
It wasn't a welcoming atmosphere, nor should it be.
Conrad's fort wasn't a particularly pleasant place, and at night it became much less welcoming; the screams and laments of those locked inside would make even the bravest's hair stand on end.
However, that night the fort was much more gloomy than usual, but not because of screams or wails of pain, but because of their absence.
An empty silence had invaded the fort, while the walls were bathed in trembling shadows.
The stench of death was evident, as if a great massacre had taken place; however, there was no trace of the crime's work, or was there?
Blood.
Red stains painted the cold rock, like some twisted type of art; but that made the situation much more chilling. Where had the bodies gone?
It was as if death itself had descended and sentenced the blasphemous sinners who were in the old walls of the fortification.
