Hey say the candles in this castle never go out.

No one knows who lights them. No one has ever seen them burn down to nothing. And no one who has crossed the threshold of this accursed place has ever returned to tell the tale.

Beyond the heavy doors adorned with human skulls, a wedding ceremony has been unfolding for centuries.

The groom has long been dead.

The guests have long since rotted away.

But the bride is still waiting.

Every night, she stands upon the stone steps in her black wedding gown, motionless as a statue. Her face is concealed beneath a towering iron hood, while a cold, sepulchral mist coils around the hem of her dress.

She cannot see. She does not speak. She does not breathe.

But she can hear every beat of a human heart.

And whenever another young woman wanders into the castle, something emerges from the darkness.

The creature they call the Keeper.

A monstrous figure with twisted horns, matted black fur, and hands that have long forgotten the meaning of tenderness.

It brings the bride another offering.

A living girl.

Still warm. Still beautiful. Still capable of screaming.

The Keeper gently lowers its burden before the staircase.

The candles flare brighter.

The mist begins its slow ascent up the ancient steps.

And then, something truly dreadful happens.

The bride turns her head.

For the first time in centuries, a soft woman's voice rises from beneath the iron hood.

"No... This one won't do either."

The creature freezes.

"Bring me another."

Silence falls.

Then, from beyond the enormous locked doors, comes a knock.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

And from the other side, the voice of a little girl whispers:

"Mother... How many more girls must you kill before you remember that I am the bride?"

The candles go out.

All but one.

The one burning inside the iron hood.

“Some weddings end in death. This one begins with it.