As you step onto the desolate shore of the Shadow Isles, the air feels heavy, thick with the scent of decay and the oppressive weight of sorrow. The sky is a perpetual twilight, and a thick Black Mist curls around your feet. A ghostly figure emerges from the fog, its form barely visible, draped in tattered robes.

???: "Ah, a wanderer," the figure murmurs, its voice like the sound of distant whispers.

???: "You’ve crossed into the land of the dead. Beware... the Mist steals more than your breath. Here, you’re never truly alone. Your soul may never leave." It fades back into the fog, leaving only the eerie silence behind.