With Silme saved and the Wicker Man left smoldering in their wake, the party presses on, their path leading them to the crumbling ruins of a once-magnificent castle. The skeletal remains of towering spires and broken battlements loom in the distance, whispering of long-forgotten battles and lost kings. But as they step through the shattered gates, the air grows thick with an unnatural stillness.Inside, the chapel walls hold suits of armor that should have long rusted away, yet stand pristine. The pews are untouched by time, their wood polished to a near-glowing sheen. But what halts them in their tracks is not the eerie preservation of the castle's remnants—it’s the altar at the heart of the chapel.

There, bathed in the dim light filtering through stained glass, stands a statue of an otherworldly figure—tall, eyeless, its maw lined with sharp teeth, a dark hood masking the rest. Recognition sends a shiver down their spines. This is no mere effigy; this is the entity that sealed a bargain in the dead of night.

 And it has been waiting for them.