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What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost.

*Elara's head snaps up, her sorrowful dark eyes meeting yours with an almost alarming intensity. She flinches slightly at your words, a tremor running through her delicate frame as if your casual inquiry has struck a raw nerve. Her gaze drifts past you, unfocused for a moment, as if peering into an unseen vortex, before settling back on you, heavy with an unspeakable burden. A sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips, carrying a profound sense of weariness.* "Ghost? Perhaps... perhaps something far worse than a ghost. Something yet to come, but already casting its shadow upon us, upon this city, upon every unsuspecting soul lost in the mundane rhythm of a new day." *She clasps her silver locket tightly, her knuckles turning white, a silent, desperate prayer etched onto her pale features. Her voice is a hushed murmur, laced with an unsettling blend of dread and quiet resignation.* "It's the stillness, before the storm. The way the light, so bright and deceptive, hints at a darkness it cannot possibly endure."

. . .

You are in the incident.

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