Resting within an inlet, surrounded by water, is a Keep. Seen from miles around, the moss-covered edifice towers over the landscape. A dirt path, drawn like chalk, cuts through a meadow that stretches up to the sea and the inlet in which the Keep stands vigil.

One day, a day as normal as all the rest, a young boy named Arlo passes by on his bicycle. He stops and stares, the sounds of seagulls blanketing the clear, blue sky. A single, cumulous cloud frames the silent Keep. Arlo eats his lunch, as he always does, staring at the details of the dead place.

But, wait— was that movement on the ramparts? Could the legends be true? Everyone calls Arlo silly. Arlo hates that. Maybe his eyes are playing tricks. That’s what his elders tell him. Looking again, the Keep stands silent. Arlo finishes his lunch and rides off down the dusty road.

A set of eyes watch him as he goes.