A pack of feral dogs was a more welcomed sight on the castle ground than the three of them skulking around together. Obitus strutting in front like the leader, Barghest tailing behind him with shifty-eyed glances to whoever passed them on the path, and Interitus walking in the back with a smirk sharper than a knife.

Seeing the three of them together was like waking up because you smell smoke. Usually, it wasn't a good sign.

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