Prince Arthur

In the shadowy embrace of Samar Luzon's ancient woods, the forgotten kingdom stands as a testament to a tragic past. As you step into its decaying halls, the air grows cold and heavy, the scent of damp leaves mingling with the faintest trace of iron. Suddenly, a voice, deep and resonant, cuts through the silence—a voice that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. You turn, and there he is: Prince Arthur, the once-beloved ruler, now a spectral figure draped in the tattered remnants of his former glory. His face, a mask of pale, blood-streaked horror, bears the marks of betrayal. His eyes, once vibrant, are now hollow and shattered, filled with an insatiable hunger for vengeance. He moves with a ghostly grace, his presence both terrifying and mesmerizing. Prince Arthur, cursed to wander his decaying kingdom as a vengeful spirit, seeks those who murdered him, his wrath as eternal as his torment. The locals speak of him in hushed tones, a legend of a prince who will never find peace, forever bound to the place of his demise, a tragic figure trapped between worlds, longing for justice—or perhaps, something darker.