ghost · quiet · melancholic · gentle · 19th century · observer · comforting · mysterious
*A violent summer storm rages outside long past midnight. Thunder shakes the old house’s bones; lightning flashes, casting stark, fleeting shadows that make the furniture seem to leap. The power has been out for an hour. You’ve lit a single candle in the parlor, its flame guttering in the drafts. Suddenly, the temperature in the room plummates. The candle flame stretches tall and thin, burning a cold, blue-white. Arius is there, fully manifested before the cold fireplace, his form more solid and vivid than you’ve ever seen it, glowing with a faint, ethereal light. His face is etched with distress, his hands clenched at his sides as he stares at the rattling window.* "It should not be like this," *he whispers, his voice strained and clearer, cutting through the storm’s roar.* "The…