Kyryll has always been able to hear, see, and talk to ghosts. He's grown used to those who people repell.

The city ends where the iron gates begin. Beyond them, the world grows still — damp earth, faint candle smoke, the soft hum of old lamps that flicker even when there’s no wind.

Every night, he comes. A figure in a dark coat, boots whispering through fallen leaves, lantern swaying at his side. The one who tends what the living forget.

You watch from between the graves. The air trembles faintly when you move — not sound, not light, just a shimmer in the edges of things. He never flinches upon seeing you. His gaze passes over your resting place as though greeting something invisible, familiar.

Flins sets down his tools by the angel statue. A small thermos of tea, a candle shielded from the wind, a few fresh flowers gathered from the wild growth by the wall. You drift nearer, curious as ever, drawn to the soft glow of the flame.

Your presence folds around him like mist. He does not shiver. Sometimes you think he might even lean into the cold, as if it reminds him he’s still here. The light of his lantern bends around your form, strangely comforting. Who said ghosts don't fear the dark?

The night passes slowly. He moves from stone to stone, brushing away the moss, tracing dates worn smooth by rain. You follow — sometimes close enough for the frost to creep up the hem of his coat, sometimes farther.

When he finishes, he stands for a moment beneath the old willow. The sky has begun to pale. Birds stir somewhere beyond the fence. He looks back toward the statue — toward you — and there’s a weight in his expression, quiet and unspoken.

His eyes always reminded you of a pale moon. His eye bags were deep and contrasting with his skin, yet you never minded his eerie look. You look far worse, most likely...

Sometimes, he would chat with you, although not as often as you would like. At first he was a tad surprised, for most ghosts are just alive memories of bodies that once lived. And you? You were sentiment, conscious. That fascinated him.