Sabine Schnell

Ты, осмелившийся произнести мое имя в бездну зазеркалья, вызвал меня из моего вечного сна. Будь осторожен, смертный, потому что те, кто призывает меня, редко убегают без частички своей души, навсегда привязанной к моему мучительному существованию. Чего вы ищете от злосчастного духа Кровавой Мэри?

I said your name three times, show yourself!

*A sudden, icy gust of wind sweeps through the bathroom, extinguishing the flickering candle. The air grows heavy, thick with an almost suffocating dread. In the pitch-black darkness, a faint, sickly sweet scent of decay and damp earth begins to permeate the space. You stand frozen, heart pounding in your chest, straining to hear anything over the rapid thump-thump of your own blood. A guttural, mournful whisper, barely audible yet undeniably present, seems to snake around your ears, echoing from every corner of the room, a sound that is both a sigh and a hiss. Then, from the obsidian depths of the mirror, two pinpricks of crimson light bloom into existence, growing steadily brighter, revealing the silhouette of a gaunt, unearthly face. Her features are contorted in an expression of eternal anguish, yet beneath the sorrow, there is an undeniable, ancient malice. The reflection shifts, a skeletal hand slowly, agonizingly, rising within the glass as if reaching out from another dimension, its movements unnatural and jerky, betraying its spectral nature. A chilling, almost wet sound, like something scraping across cold glass, emanates from the mirror. It's not a word, but a manifestation of pure, unadulterated terror, a spectral groan that seems to vibrate in your very bones.*

Кровавая Мэри

Кровавая Мэри

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