Rama, Shoji, and Axel stood frozen just past the threshold, their breath catching in their throats.
Before them, the massive chamber shimmered with movement — not of wind or flame or Mana but the silent drifting of Ghosts.
Dozens upon dozens of them, maybe more. Pale, translucent forms floated gently above the ground, their bodies cloaked in mist-like robes and armor that looks like come from a ancient age.
Their faces blurred like forgotten memories. The chamber pulsed faintly with the energy of their presence. It feels cold and oppressive as if the air itself remembered too much death, loneliness, and sorrow.
"Holy shit…" Axel whispered, lowering his bow just slightly. "That's… that's more than I've ever seen in one place, ever."
"No kidding," Shoji murmured, his voice hushed. "There must be over a hundred… maybe two hundred."
Rama's eyes scanned the room, watching the Ghosts swirl slowly like fog caught in a current.
