In a place of eternal dusk, where the sky is no longer blue, stygian walls of sable forts keep the night at bay.

A former bastion of knowledge, where weeping angels dance, lifeless in its depths.

A dormant stronghold, where forlorn ravens sing, dim-lit by the midnight hues, yet no stars stood.

An endless night, locked in twilight, and bound by the unseen moon.

A place where the fallen king resides... where he sleeps.

This is the story that he made.

Isn't that right... Nonary?

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Howdy-do, I'm a new-ish writer (Does writing for 2-3 months count as new) that uh, writes stuff.
Yeah, I can prolly do 1-2 chapters a week or heck, maybe 0 if school blindsides me.
So uh, yeah, that's all I guess.