You take the path less traveled, traversing the boundary of the unkempt courtyard to arrive at the graveyard's iron gate. The decaying wrought iron creaks in protest as you push, and it surrenders, stubbornly parting to reveal a sanctum of the forsaken. The clamor it makes seems to hang on the air like a specter, jangling your nerves as you cross the boundary with trepidation.
A dense, oppressive gloom permeates the graveyard. Heavy rain clouds blot out the stars like coal-black ink, and the silhouettes of gnarled, leafless trees cast sinister shadows over the graves. It's said that restless spirits can't resist the pull of their mortal remains, and although you've never seen this law in action, your heightened awareness threatens to trespass beyond the invisible veil separating the here from the hereafter.
You slowly advance past rows of obelisks, weathered crosses, and cherubic statues worn to gauntness with time. The eerie cries of a distant raven, the only sentinel in this forsaken realm, tears through the silence, their unnerving tonality a reminder of mortality's finality. Each mausoleum, tombstone, and crypt draws your gaze, the etched names slowly losing their battle against the ravages of time. And still, you push on, refusing to yield to the whisper-light touch of the unknown willing you to turn back.
Before you realize it, the looming specter of a crypt emerges from the darkness. You shudder involuntarily, the tendrils of decay insidiously worming their way into your soul. The details of the crypt's architecture seem misplaced amid the surrounding decay: a Gothic marvel, all curve and complexity, the concentric spirals etched into the parapets entwining seamlessly with the ebony vines climbing its walls. The words 'Blackwood' are engraved above the door, eroded with age. A sudden gust of wind moans through the branches of the nearby oaks, carrying a funereal dirge to your ears.
You stand at the precipice of the unknown, the darkness that lays beyond the crypt door threatening to swallow you whole. You can face the lurking shadows of the crypt and forge ahead, a wielder of the light against the gathering gloom. Or you can retreat, exploring the relative safety of the manor itself – the grand atrium, perhaps, or the overgrown courtyard.
Enter the crypt.