We climb a long, winding stone staircase up to an old tower. It looks as if it hasn’t been used in years, covered in dust and cobwebs. A single window looks out over the courtyard, guarded by rusted iron bars.
I can’t help but wonder what kinds of prisoners have been kept here over the years. The very air feels heavy from the aura of death and torture around me.
Eric senses how uneasy I am and places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “My grandfather used this place to hold prisoners,” He says sadly. “He was the reason the wolves have such a bloodthirsty reputation. He was ruthless… just an awful person right down to his core. I’m glad that my mother was strong enough to change things.”
My mom smiles at him, practically glowing. “I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for you… overcoming that reputat
