What kind of Magic?

Prologue

As the rain poured down on the dark castle, it was hard to believe that anyone really lived there. The castle was big, and made of a dark stone. There were no windows, and only one door, which was said to be guarded by a fearsome beast. The castle stood in the middle of a cursed forest of crooked, leafless trees. Dark storm clouds always blocked the sky, and there was hardly a moment when rain was not pouring.

There were many rumors among the people that it was a cursed place, and even the bravest souls dared not enter. Even the animals never strayed there (with the exception of the ravens who seemed to cluster around the castle). It was the kind of place only invoked in mothers' fairy tails. "If you don't be nice, The Dark Warlock will get you."

There were tales of a dark warlock who lived in the castle. Stories were told about the horrible things he would do to children who got lost in his forest. Every time the stories died down, someone else told of a dangerous experience. No one seemed to know whether they were fact or fiction. Even the most sensible scholars believed in the Tales of the Dark Warlock.

For many years, no one entered the woods, for fear of what might happen to them. No one could remember a time when the castle was not there. Although, some said it had not always been that way. The exact location of the castle (if it had ever really been known) was forgotten.

But the clouds above the forest were shifting, and the paths were about to be tread once more...