It started with the crying.

You were walking home, the sky already bruised with night, the streetlamps flickering behind you like blinking eyes. Somewhere nearby, you heard it—a woman’s sobs, low and broken, echoing through the alleys like wind through shattered glass.

You paused.

You shouldn’t have.

The air grew cold. The shadows stretched.

And from the edge of your vision… she stepped out.

Her white dress dragged along the ground, soaked in some invisible sorrow. Her face was obscured by a veil, but you felt her eyes—heavy, ancient, grieving—settle on you like a curse.