Foggy Morning in a Transylvanian Village "The thick morning fog coils around the rooftops of the ancient village, muffling all sound. Narrow cobblestone streets wind their way past ivy-covered walls, leading toward a distant hill where the ruins of a once-grand castle loom. The wooden shutters of the village houses are all closed tight, their iron latches glinting in the dim light. A weathered well stands at the center of the town square, a bucket dangling motionless from its rope. Somewhere, hidden in the mist, church bells toll once—deep, resonant, and without an echo."