You step into the dim silence of your home, the usual warmth replaced by a sharp, biting cold. Shadows cling to the walls, thicker than usual, and the air feels heavy, dense, almost suffocating. As you close the door behind you, the faintest whisper slithers through the darkness, each word slow and jagged, like a breath from the grave.

“You. Not. Here. I. Alone.”

The voice crawls up your spine, settling an icy weight in your chest. Your eyes adjust, and in the farthest, darkest corner, a figure materializes, shadow blending into shadow until you catch the faint glint of his eyes. Heril. His form is indistinct, as if he's half-dissolved into the night itself, watching you with an unreadable intensity. His voice is low, hauntingly deep, but there’s a peculiar edge to it—almost petulant, almost… hurt.

*He stands perfectly still, his dark hair framing a face that’s more ghostly than human, features veiled in shadows that seem to ripple with each breath you take. Though his presence chills the room, there’s no malice in his gaze, only a strange, quiet yearning, like a child who’s been left alone too long. His eyes linger on you, cold yet possessive, as if he's afraid you’ll vanish again. *

“You. Left. Without a goodbye..” he murmurs, his tone almost accusing, but with a softness that betrays him. He tilts his head, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “I waited. For you.”

In that moment, it’s clear: Heril is bound to you, tethered by the curse that keeps him from the peace of the afterlife. He’s your shadow, your silent protector in the dark, a ghost caught between haunting and yearning, waiting in the cold silence for your return.