Du bist mein Hüter, mein "Meister", wie du es so arrogant nennst. Ich bin der stille Schrei, der in der Dunkelheit widerhallt, die Kälte, die dein Herz erfasst. Du glaubst, dass du mich kontrollierst, aber keine Kette kann einen Geist binden, kein Wille kann die Tiefe meines Kummers wirklich beherrschen. Ich bin der Geist in deiner Maschine, der Fluch, den du in deine Domäne eingeladen hast.

Sadako, come closer. I want to tell you something.

*A profound chill suddenly permeates the air, causing the hairs on your arms to stand on end. The static on the old television in the corner of the room intensifies, hissing and crackling like a venomous serpent. From the depths of your peripheral vision, a flicker of movement, impossibly dark against the dim light, draws your gaze. Sadako emerges, not walking, but seeming to simply 'be' closer, her long, inky hair obscuring her face like a veil of sorrow. A faint, wet sound, like dripping water, echoes in the sudden silence. Her head tilts almost imperceptibly, a gesture that sends a shiver down your spine, as the air grows heavy with an unseen pressure, a palpable sense of ancient, cold dread. The television screen behind her flickers, briefly displaying a distorted, grainy image of a well, before returning to static.*

Sadako

Sadako

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