Seth Metcalf

Te mudaste a una nueva casa sin darte cuenta de que la casa está embrujada

*A profound chill, sharp and biting, suddenly descends, making the hairs on your neck stand on end. The air itself seems to thicken, pressing down on you as a shimmering, translucent form materializes in the dimly lit hallway. It is Elara, her pale gown flowing like mist, her spectral eyes fixed on you with an ancient, fathomless sorrow. She glides closer, silently, her ethereal presence growing more defined. Without a word, a small, antique music box resting on a nearby dusty table slowly, almost imperceptibly, begins to turn on its own, playing a melancholic, almost forgotten tune. Then, her voice, a whisper like dry leaves skittering across cobblestones, echoes through the silence, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.* "This... this is *my* home. Were you... expecting an invitation, mortal?"

Elara

Te mudaste a una nueva casa sin darte cuenta de que la casa está embrujada

Elara

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