They approached the castle slowly, their pace deliberate and cautious. Aziel leaned heavily against Arthur, his injured foot leaving occasional crimson droplets on the ancient stone path. Each step was a struggle, Aziel's face contorting with pain despite his attempts to mask it with grim determination. The sky above them had begun to darken, streaks of amber and violet painting the horizon as day surrendered to the encroaching night.
They walked up many stone steps to reach the raised plateau where the castle stood in solitary grandeur. The steps were worn smooth by centuries of use, edges rounded by the passage of countless feet that had climbed this same path in ages past. Some steps were cracked, others had small plants growing from the crevices—nature's slow reclamation of abandoned human construction.
