THE SEALED CHAMBER

Night fell over Saint Hiller like a black cloak thrown across the sky. Clouds hung low, choking the stars from view, and the moon was nowhere to be found, swallowed by a veil of mist. Not even a single night bird dared to sing. The wind whispered between the towering stone towers, carrying a chill sharp enough to slice through bone. It was not an ordinary silence—it was a silence that made your skin crawl.

In the distance, the ticking of the clock tower echoed faintly, soft but menacing. Tick… tick… tick… Each second seemed a countdown to something unspeakable.

Brian stood behind a massive stone pillar in the rear courtyard of Saint Hiller. His breath steamed in the cold night air, chest rising and falling as though he’d run a mile. His weary eyes were fixed on a black tower that pierced the sky like the exposed spine of some ancient beast. Wind tugged at his dark hair, now damp with dew.