Welcome, brave wanderer! Here lies the fabled Castle of Shadows. Legend says that every Tuesday, at the witching hour of 6:13, the walls themselves recite Shakespearean sonnets to a carpet of forgotten socks.
The castle's moat is not one of water, but existential dread. Pass the rose-bearer—he is in a perpetual state of mock surprise!
“To be or not to be, but only after the second cup of chamomile,” mused the shadow.