Amid the sea, nameless islands could be seen everywhere. Some were large, some small; they stood scattered like jagged teeth, interspersed with one another in utterly irregular arrangements.
Yet among this constellation-like cluster of islands, only the island at the very center differed from all the rest.
It was clearly larger than the surrounding islands, and upon it rose building after building of black stone.
These black buildings took every strange and bizarre shape imaginable. Waves of black mist drifted around them, and the air was exceedingly, exceedingly cold and sinister.
Within these black buildings, black-cloaked figures came and went. Every one of them wore a white mask, making them look incomparably eerie.
Each held a torch resembling the hand bone of a corpse, upon which a green flame burned without end.
At that moment, a shrill alarm shattered the island's former tranquility. In the next instant, the black-robed figures all began heading in the same direction.
They were making for the island's very center—a towering black iron tower.
The black iron tower pierced the clouds, its surface covered in densely packed windows while black crows continuously circled around it.
At the foot of the tower stood a great door, flanked by two enormous statues. Looking closely, they resembled two black cats.
The black cats were powerfully built, and their eyes seemed to be set with some unknown gemstones, appearing unimaginably eerie and chilling.
Beyond the tower's doors lay a pitch-black main hall. Torches forged from dead men's hand bones lined the walls everywhere, their green flames burning and illuminating the entire hall.
Black-robed figures filed into the hall in neat order, each finding their own place, holding a torch, and standing obediently where they were.
As more and more people arrived, the entire hall became eerily silent. Not the