The Phantom of Alban

[PerfectlyPeachy 1383]

 

Spoiler

 

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‘Twas like stirring from a restful slumber. Slowly, did her eyes open, fluttering to life as she woke. She lay there within her bed, undead eyes staring upward and toward the ceiling, wracked with confusion and melancholy.

She could not remember.

Why could she not remember?

 

There she remained, silent, attempting to piece together the parts of a mismatched puzzle, torturing herself with the desperate need to know. 

Alas, she could not, and thus she slowly began to rise.

 

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It was as if she were being forced to wade through a river of tar, with the current working against her. Each timid step took a substantial amount of effort, a shudder of exertion rolling down her spine, bleary eyes attempting to peer past that haze of impenetrable fog that clouded her judgment.

 

She felt as if she had had this dream before, a terror of which she could not force herself to wake. She felt an intense and deep-rooted longing within her very soul as if a part of her spirit had been ripped from her being with a malicious bout of laughter.

 

"I'm lost." She heard a small voice cry, a gentle warble upon the wind of her confusion. 

 

 Thus, she knew what she had lost, and what she had to find. Perhaps if you found yourself pacing through a darkened hallway, or peering into a mirror for a moment too long, you might spy a shadowy figure aimlessly traipsing the halls of the Prikaz, mournfully wailing for her forgotten daughter.

 

 

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Rumors begin to circulate throughout Haense, and perhaps these fabled stories reach the ears of those outside of the northern province. They say a mournful woman resembling that of the Dowager of Alban now stalks Nikirala Prikaz, forced to aimlessly wander the lands of Almaris forevermore.

 

Spoiler

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[garentoft 9265]

Matyas screams.