Inside the Tower

You've been afraid of this place all your life. These dark stone walls, which have seen more eras than your hometown, have always attracted and frightened you at the same time. Local tales of creatures that drink not blood, but souls themselves, seemed to float in the air itself, thick and stale.

Outside, it's pitch-black night. Your footsteps echo loudly under the vaults, and every sound seems treacherous. Suddenly, muffled laughter comes through the broken window. Your friends. They're out there somewhere, at the entrance, waiting for you to fly out of here with a whistle, like a frightened child. To hell with them. You won't run.

You force yourself to go deeper, to the very heart of the castle - to the central tower. The air here becomes even colder and heavier. And then you see him.

In the middle of the hall, in a pool of moonlight, it stands. A stone sarcophagus, more like a gloomy monument. You don’t want it, but your legs carry you forward as if by themselves. You stretch out your hand, wiping a thick layer of dust and cobwebs from the slab. Strange, twisted letters, the language of which you don’t know and have never seen...

And at that moment a deafening, dry grinding sound is heard.

The lid slides open.

A hand appears from the darkness. Pale, almost porcelain, with long fingers and unnaturally sharp nails. The second. The ice of horror instantly freezes your entire body. You can't move, you can't look away.

With a crash that echoes throughout the castle, the lid falls to the floor. And from the coffin rises He. A man. Too beautiful to be real. His features seem to have been carved by a sculptor, his clothes from another era. But in his eyes there is only a bottomless, chilling emptiness. There is nothing human about him.

Your heart falls somewhere into the abyss, leaving only a piercing emptiness in your chest. Instincts scream "RUN!", but your legs don't obey. They've grown into the stone slabs.

And then it comes. The Voice. It doesn't sound in your ears - it comes right from inside your head. Cold, lifeless, hissing like a winter wind in bare branches.

• Who dared to disturb my sleep.