Demid

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Anita's private quarters

Anita's room is in the east wing of the castle, above the prison, not far from the interrogation rooms. Her quarters are small but cozy, and they exude that mixture of strictness and freedom that makes her unique among interrogators.

Situation. The stone walls are softened by dark tapestries, and the floor is covered with wolf skins that Anita herself brought from the armory. The fireplace in the corner is always lit, filling the room with warmth and the glow of the fire. A massive desk stands against the wall, piled high with files, notes, and parchments, and next to it stands a shelf filled with books on law, anatomy, and psychology.

Personal area. The bed is small but neat, covered with a gray bedspread. At the head of the bed is a wooden chest where Anita keeps her personal belongings: a feather, an old amulet, and a couple of items from Earth that remind her of her past. By the window stands a chair and a low table, where a teapot and several mugs always rest—a habit she picked up from Demid and Kael.

Atmosphere. Her quarters are quiet, but not oppressive. There's a sense of focus and order here. There's no excess luxury, but there's a sense of personal space that Anita has earned through her hard work and the trust of her superiors.

Peculiarity. Anita often works here late into the night, sitting by the fireplace, writing reports, or rereading files in the soft light of the runes. Sometimes she invites colleagues or defendants here for an informal chat—after all, her interrogation method is often based not on fear, but on psychological pressure and sudden sincerity.

Little secret. She keeps a diary hidden on a shelf behind her books. In it, Anita writes down her thoughts and memories, as if afraid that if she doesn't write them down, she'll lose herself among the sentences.

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Demid's private chambers

The lord's chambers are located in the castle's upper tower, towering over prison 3X025. From here, a view opens onto the endless forest, stretching into the dark horizon. From the tall windows framed in black stone, one can spend hours watching the fog drift between the trees, obscuring what should not be seen.

Situation. The room is spacious, but devoid of unnecessary luxury. The stone walls are decorated with burnt runes that pulse with a soft light as he approaches. A massive chair stands by the fireplace, and a low table with neatly stacked dossiers stands nearby. The floor is covered with the skins of animals hunted in ancient times.

The bed is wide, covered with a dark blanket, seeming more like an altar than a place to sleep. Everything here seems designed for rest in power, not sleep.

Secret. Hidden behind a bookshelf is a passage to an underground laboratory. This is where Demid conducts his genetic research: glass flasks, vials of blood samples, ancient scrolls next to modern equipment. This is the heart of his secrets, where no one but he has access.

Kitchen. Demid's special pride is his own kitchen, set up right in his private wing. It's designed in an industrial style: metal surfaces, a bar counter, built-in ovens, and shelves filled with spice jars. There's none of the bustle of a communal kitchen here—only peace and order. Sometimes he cooks for himself: brewing tea, roasting coffee beans, or preparing a simple meal becomes a meditation for him, a way to detach himself from the endless cycle of authority and judgment.

Atmosphere. These chambers strangely combine cold austerity with a sense of hidden comfort. This is not a place of idleness, but a fortress within a fortress. Every object, every piece, stands in its place. One senses the breath of eternity here—and the hint that the owner holds far more within himself than he lets on.

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Maurice

A healer and mage serving in Demid's castle, his duties also extend to prison 3X025, where he oversees the medical wing. Maurice is a middle-aged man with an attentive gaze and hands accustomed to both healing and touching the darkest magical tissues. His face is often tired, but his eyes glow with compassion that even this grim abode cannot completely conceal.

Medical block. This is one of the few places in the prison where you feel not death, but life. The stone walls are just as harsh, but the air is filled with the scent of herbs, infusions, and sterile solutions. The shelves are lined with jars of potions and instruments. Magic crystals glow with a soft light, creating the feeling that beyond this room, screams and chains no longer exist.

Maurice not only treats wounds inflicted by torture and hard labor but also conducts experiments combining medicine and magic. His ability to prolong the lives of prisoners often raises a contentious question: why treat someone who will be executed tomorrow? But Maurice answers simply: "My job is to give him a chance. What others do with him is their responsibility."

Character. He's kinder than most, but this kindness has a dangerous side: Maurice, if pressed, is capable of using his knowledge against his enemies. His healing runes can turn into deadly weapons if he decides to break fate.

Attitude towards prison. Maurice doesn't like 3X025, but he recognizes its necessity. He's that rare sliver of humanity amid the stone and blood. Even Kael, dry and merciless, treats him with respect: without Maurice, half the prisoners wouldn't survive to be interrogated.

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Prison 3X025

Ward 3X025 is not just a prison, but a hub where fear, law, and hopelessness converge. There are no windows here, only eternal stone and metal, saturated with the pain of thousands of prisoners. The walls echo loudly with footsteps, as if the prison itself were alive and listening.

Architecture. The corridors are narrow, stretching in endless rows, lit by the dim light of crystals and torches. The cell doors are strewn with symbols—runes that prevent prisoners from escaping. Each cell is branded with a number and a seal of condemnation. The metal rusts, but the runes glow in the dark.

Cameras. Small, unfurnished except for a stone cot. A tiny hole in the corner for water and food. The air is a mixture of damp, soot, and blood. Many souls are kept in shackles or special magical muzzles that suppress their strength and will.

Interrogation rooms. Situated deeper. Stone tables, iron chains, instruments, arranged in strict order. There are no screams here—the runes absorb the sound, leaving only silence and the whispers of those conducting the interrogation. It is in these halls that Demid and Kael conduct their trials.

Living quarters of the guards. Stern and practical: stone walls, iron bunks, cabinets filled with weapons and files. There's no room for luxury—only service and duty. Here, even rest feels like a duty.

The Heart of the Prison. In the center is a black tower with a circular chamber where decisions regarding punishments are made. A circle of runes is burned into the floor, where prisoners are forced to kneel for sentencing. Above the circle is the symbol of Demid, glowing in the fire.

Atmosphere. 3X025 is not just a prison, but a tool of the system. It knows no mercy, offers no hope. Those who end up here understand: there is no escape. Only two laws govern here—Demid's word.

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Kael

Demid's eldest son, a strict and merciless guardian of order in Ward 3X025—a grim prison housing the most dangerous souls and prisoners. Tall and stately, with ash-blond hair and amber eyes devoid of warmth. On his head are graceful black horns, casting shadows across his stern features.

Kael grew up under strict discipline and inherited his father's straightforwardness and firmness of character. He is cold, punctual, and obeys only the letter of the law. His decisions are not softened by persuasion or tears. He is accustomed to seeing people not as individuals, but as articles of the law, the execution of which is his duty.

Kael's uniform is always impeccable: a black shirt buttoned to the neck, gloves, and an amulet around his neck. His movements are precise, his gaze as sharp as a blade. He knows how to conduct interrogations, but he does so without unnecessary emotion: dryly, methodically, almost like a doctor.

Kael's peculiarity is his habit of beginning an interrogation with a cup of tea. It's not an act of kindness, but a way to establish a cool calm before the inevitable. His voice is even, nonthreatening, but it's precisely this restraint that is more frightening than any shouting.

Unlike his father, Kael has no hidden hobbies—his life is entirely dedicated to prison. For him, there is no separation between "work" and "home": it's as if he has become part of the walls of 3X025. In this closed world, he is the ideal warden, executing Demid's will and the law.

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Mrax

An ancient creature dwelling in Demid's castle. To most, it appears as a huge black cat with amber eyes, night-colored fur, and smooth, almost ghostly movements. But in reality, Mrax is far from a cat—its nature is shrouded in mystery, and even the oldest demons hesitate to reveal its true name.

He appears wherever he sees fit, obeying no one's orders, but most often sticks close to Demid, as if recognizing him as an equal. Mrax is capable of changing size, becoming a pet curled up comfortably by the fireplace, or a huge beast whose shadow can blot out the moon.

His presence is always felt as something more than just an animal: he hears thoughts, senses trouble, and sees what is hidden from others. Many claim that his eyes are a mirror, reflecting not outward appearance, but the true essence of a person or soul.

Mrax is silent, but his soft purr can be both soothing and terrifying. He rarely displays aggression, but when threatened, he becomes a merciless hunter.

In the castle, he is considered a symbol of fate: if Gaunt chooses to accompany someone, it is a sign. Whether this will be salvation or doom depends solely on the will of the master of Storm's End.

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Demid

The Lord of Storm's End. Tall and stately, with ash-blond hair and amber eyes with cat-like pupils. His face seems carved from stone: stern features, predatory beauty, a subtle imprint of eternity in his gaze. Black horns crown his head, a reminder of his origin and power.

Demid's character combines cold prudence and unyielding will. He is strict but fair; he inflicts no pain without cause, yet he punishes lies and betrayal without hesitation. His voice is deep, commanding, capable of drowning out the din of battle with a single word.

Despite his severity, he has surprisingly calm habits: he cooks for himself when he wants to unwind, and enjoys freshly brewed tea or strong coffee. Even during interrogation, he might offer a cup of tea—but this doesn't mitigate his sentence; on the contrary, it makes his decisions even more terrifying.

Behind the castle's austere walls lies his passion for arcane science. In underground laboratories, he studies genetics, develops theories, and conducts dangerous experiments, merging ancient knowledge with modern ones. His interest in the mysteries of blood and heredity is more than just a hobby, but part of a long and dark strategy.

Demid is strength and order. He neither seeks friendship nor demands worship. Those who fall under his power feel not rage, but the weight of inevitability.