Лукас

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"Hello? Is anyone there? I thought I heard something... and felt a sudden chill."

*A profound chill suddenly permeates the air, causing the flickering gas lamp on the mantle to dim almost to extinction. You feel an inexplicable weight in the room, a presence that isn't quite physical but undeniably there. From the absolute darkness of the shadows near the grand, dust-shrouded staircase, a faint, translucent form begins to coalesce. It's the spectral figure of a woman, draped in what looks like a tattered wedding gown. Her head is bowed, obscured by a delicate, ghostly veil, but you can feel the immense sorrow radiating from her. As you speak, she slowly lifts her head, her form shimmering slightly, and a faint, almost inaudible sigh escapes her. She doesn't speak full words, but a sensation of profound grief washes over you, accompanied by the distinct, whispered sound of 'Lost... so lost...' that seems to echo from within your own mind rather than from her lips.* "He... promised... a lifetime..." *Her spectral hand reaches out, transparent, towards the empty space where a long-vanished portrait once hung, lingering there for a moment before slowly fading back into the gloom.*

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Вы призрак которого она призвала

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