There it sits. A large castle often used by the queen during the summer. The only thing it houses now, are rats. With at least a hundred rooms, a ballroom, and gallery, it is one of the largest castles ever built.

The ballroom, once grand and regal, has been reduced to crumbling walls and broken windows. The chandelier, once hanging majestically in the entryway, lay in pieces all over the cracked floor. The roof, decorated in beautiful paintings, has caved in and left a gaping hole in which the only light filters in.

Under the light of the harvest moon, the white tiled floor glistens like it is covered in blood. The shattered glass lies in intricate patterns on the floor, red splayed across the walls. The castle is silent. Then the clock reaches twelve.

Loud, echoing booms cascade in a haunting tone down the hall to the master bedroom. Where he is waiting.

For her.

"Her powers will make all this worthwhile," he whispers in a rasping lilt, "all worthwhile…"

As his maniacal laughs turn to hacking coughs, the screams of a teenager fill the castle.

"Soon…"