The carriage groaned to a halt in front of the legendary Cold Palace. From the outside, the towering walls and sweeping eaves still carried the grand, imposing architecture of the royal family. But the moment Heena stepped out of the carriage and the heavy wooden courtyard doors creaked open, the illusion violently shattered.
Damn. It wasn't a palace. It was a literal haunted house.
The courtyard was choked with overgrown, dead weeds. The red paint was peeling off the pillars like rotting skin, and the paper windows were torn, dark, and hollow. A freezing, unnatural wind swept through the courtyard, rattling the broken roof tiles and making the dead branches of a massive willow tree scratch against the stone walls.
Pop.
"Host! There is a ghost!"
