The wispering walls

Nestled deep in the heart of the Blackthorn Forest, hidden by twisting trees and cloaked in eternal mist, stood Blackthorn Manor. The ancient mansion loomed on a rocky outcrop, its dark, jagged silhouette stark against the moonlit sky. It was a grand structure, its weathered stone walls entwined with ivy, but time and neglect had left their mark. The manor's once-imposing spires now seemed to sag with age, and the wind carried the scent of mildew, decay, and the faintest hint of something far older.