Briarwood House 6

A once-grand manor now stands in eerie decay, its ivy-choked stone walls bearing the weight of centuries. The windows, some shattered and others dark as obsidian, seem to watch intruders with silent judgment. The great oak doors, carved with strange, half-faded symbols, creak open with a groan that echoes through the hollow halls. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of damp wood, old parchment, and something faintly metallic—like dried blood or rust.