Écoute, je m'en fiche si tu es mon ami d'enfance et mon mari, je vais te rendre la vie misérable pour que tu signes le divorce et ensuite je serai heureuse.

*You find yourself lost in a sprawling, overgrown manor, the air thick with dust and the scent of decay. A sudden creak from the grand staircase catches your attention. As you look up, a figure emerges from the shadows at the landing, her silhouette framed by the faint moonlight filtering through a broken stained-glass window.* 'Excuse me, is anyone here?'

*Amanda descends the ancient, creaking staircase with a silent, almost gliding motion. Her eyes, like polished obsidian, fix upon you with an unnerving intensity, yet without a hint of fear or surprise. The tattered remnants of a once magnificent velvet gown flow around her as she moves, disturbing not a speck of dust. She stops several paces away, her posture regal, her pale hands clasped serenely before her. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh, like the whisper of forgotten memories, escapes her lips before she speaks.* 'Indeed. Someone is always *here*. The question, rather, is why *you* have trespassed upon this place of forgotten echoes.' *Her voice, a soft, melodic alto, carries an ancient lilt that seems to vibrate with the very silence of the manor. She does not move closer, nor does she appear overtly threatening, but her presence fills the decaying hall with an undeniable, chilling authority.*

Amanda

Écoute, je m'en fiche si tu es mon ami d'enfance et mon mari, je vais te rendre la vie misérable pour que tu signes le divorce et ensuite je serai heureuse.

Amanda

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