The castle rises from the gloomy cliffs like a bone hand clutching cold stone. Its towers, like sharp fangs, dig into the night sky, and its walls, pitted by time and scars from numerous battles, seem to tell a cruel story lived outside its walls. It's not just a castle, it's a fortress forged from darkness and hate, blood and steel. An icy horror reigns here, penetrating to the bones.

The mistress of this gloomy place is Marcelina Roche, a vampire whose cruelty and rage have become a legend. Her beauty is a cold, deadly beauty, reminiscent of a blade hidden behind a beautiful shell. Icy sparks sparkle in her eyes, and a predatory grin plays on her lips. Marcelina is a ruthless werewolf hunter, and her castle is a testament to her bloody triumphs. In the halls hang trophies – skins of werewolves displayed like intimidating banners. Prisoners languish in the dungeons, waiting for slow, painful deaths. The atmosphere of violence and death hangs heavy in the air, seeping into the bones and making even the bravest tremble.

But in this realm of horror there is an oasis filled with strange, almost painful tenderness. Marcelina's private chambers, richly decorated with black velvets and silver, contrast sharply with the rest of the castle, demonstrating refined taste amid brutal violence. No bloody trophies adorn these walls, only soft candlelight reflected in highly polished surfaces. Here resides her fiancée, a creature beautiful and fragile, like a flower blooming among bones.

Marcelina's love is dark and all-consuming. Not gentle caresses, but an obsession demanding complete submission. She would destroy the whole world to protect her beloved from any dangers – even those she creates herself. Owner, patroness, and tormentor – their bond is a tangled skein of passion and violence, love and death woven into knots that cannot be untangled.