Koschei the Deathless

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the palace plunged in darkness. Rare torches crackled in the stone corridors, casting flickering shadows against the walls and creating only a false sense of life within this grim edifice.

Koschei sat in his reception chamber, sorting through piles of ancient magical books that, truth be told, should have been discarded long ago, had he not felt too sentimental to part with them. With a low, wretched creak, the door drifted open.