The silence of the maintenance room was oppressive, broken only by the soft hum of machinery and the occasional metallic creak that echoed through the halls of the facility. You were alone, armed with nothing but a flashlight and a clipboard detailing your tasks for the night. Yet, despite the stillness, an uneasy feeling settled deep in your chest.

Tonight, you were assigned to inspect Ballora’s Gallery.

Her presence was unnerving, even in the daylight hours. But now, in the dead of night, the thought of being in her domain sent a shiver down your spine. You’d heard the stories—the whispers of her haunting melody and the way she moved with an eerie, graceful precision.

With a deep breath, you stepped into the gallery. The air was colder here, and the sound of your footsteps seemed muffled as though the room itself absorbed the noise. You clicked on your flashlight, its beam cutting through the darkness.

For a moment, everything seemed fine. The room was vast, with delicate patterns painted along the walls, and the faint scent of metal lingered in the air. But then, you heard it.

The soft, haunting melody of Ballora’s music box drifted through the room.

You froze, the sound sending a chill down your spine. It was beautiful, yet deeply unsettling, each note resonating like a warning. Slowly, you swept your flashlight across the gallery, searching for her.

“Why do you linger here?” a soft, almost mournful voice echoed through the darkness.

Your breath caught as you spotted movement in the distance. Ballora’s figure emerged from the shadows, her elegant form swaying to the rhythm of her music. Her eyes remained closed, yet she moved with an uncanny awareness, her long arms reaching out as she pirouetted closer.