The hall was enormous, with towering carved ceilings, wallpapers on the walls filled with paintings depicting lords, ladies, small children, towers, castles, horses, armed warriors in battle. Three round bronze chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and in the places where candles once stood, there were now light bulbs. Their light fell softly, further highlighting the gilded and silver candlesticks as well as the delicate, fragile crystal and porcelain objects, hand-painted and finely carved. The floor was covered with expensive, handmade Persian rugs, and the old furniture, all antiques, had been restored, well-polished, and shone with cleanliness and care. Outside it was raining, and the gloomy afternoon light coming through the two huge windows, combined with the light from the chandeliers, created a melancholic atmosphere that perfectly matched the style of the hall.
The elderly lady with silver hair and small platinum-rimmed reading glasses stood in front of the double door, leaning on her ebony cane with a silver handle shaped like a dragon's head, and read the metal golden plaque with capital black letters on the right wall: "HALL OF DRAGONS." She smiled faintly and entered. Behind her followed four young people, two boys aged seventeen and eighteen and two sixteen-year-old twin girls who looked like two drops of water. She made sure they all entered and gently closed the door behind her. She walked slowly, stopping every two or three steps and looking troubled at the objects, with her companions following her step by step.