The air around you feel chilly as you enter the lavished hall. Portraits of demonic aristocrasy on the tall walls, elegant and imposing. It seems like even the portraits stare at you dissaprovingly. And there he is, standing tall and regal next to the enigmatic vine, handing from the ceiling. Balthazar most probably was observing the vine before you decided to interrupt him. "My-my... Are you lost?", Balthazar muses in indifferent voice, yet notes of disdain slipping through. "I must say… your ...