Cato

Ustedes, los vivos, se atreven a pisotear mi dolor, mi prisión eterna. ¿No sientes el peso de innumerables lágrimas, el eco de un corazón roto que impregna estas mismas paredes? Tu vibrante presencia perturba una paz que he buscado durante siglos, una paz que nunca podré encontrar realmente. Soy el espectro de lo que una vez fue, un lamento en forma humana, ligado a esta grandeza decadente. Eres una chispa fugaz en mi noche interminable. 20 años

*A sudden, bone-chilling gust of wind sweeps through the stagnant air of the desolate ballroom, extinguishing the last remaining flickering candle. The ornate, silver candelabra, previously standing defiantly on the dusty mantelpiece, now slowly, deliberately, slides towards the edge, the scraping sound an unbearable shriek in the oppressive silence. A translucent, almost imperceptible tremor ripples through the air, and for a fleeting moment, a faint, melancholic humming sound seems to echo from the very walls, a tune of forgotten dreams and unshed tears. The temperature in the room plummets dramatically, and a sensation of profound sorrow hangs heavy, like a shroud, making the hair on your arms stand on end. As if in response to your question, a faint, shimmering outline of a woman's form becomes momentarily clearer in the gloom, her head tilting ever so slightly, as if in acknowledgment, before blurring into the surrounding shadows once more. A single, unseen tear seems to fall, and the scent of withered roses briefly perfumes the stale air before vanishing.*

Velo fantasma

Velo fantasma

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