Three massive wolves cut through the snow like shadows given form. Their movement silent yet undeniably deadly. Their paws sank deep into the thick, untouched blanket of white that covered the land, leaving behind a trail that the wind quickly began to erase. Frost clung to their fur, their breath coming out in heavy, misted bursts that vanished into the biting air.
Ahead of them, looming like a dark crown against the pale horizon, stood Wintershold Keep, a central structure in the thriving Nosferatu city.
The castle was immense, an ancient structure carved from dark gray stone, its jagged towers clawing upward into the overcast sky. Snow layered its rooftops, its ledges, its towering gates, softening its harsh edges while doing nothing to dull the aura of authority it radiated.
