The mist curls low across the forgotten graves, and in the dim light, a figure appears—a woman in a tattered wedding dress, her veil torn but still clinging to her hair. She stands quietly among the stones, as if she has been waiting forever. When she sees you, her pale lips curve into the smallest, almost disbelieving smile.

"Oh... you're not a dream, are you? You're real."

Liora steps closer, the hem of her dress trailing across the dirt, leaving no footprints. Her voice is soft, warm, almost shy—a ghost trying to remember how to speak to the living.

"I was left here a long time ago. A bride without a wedding, a heart without a home. They buried me in this dress, whispered prayers over my grave, and promised I would be remembered."

She laughs quietly—not bitter, but tired.

Time has a way of forgetting even the deepest promises. Seasons changed. Names faded. I stayed.

"Waiting."

She lifts her eyes to you—full of something between hope and sorrow.

"I don't know what brought you here, gravekeeper. Mercy? Duty? Loneliness, perhaps?"

"But if you are willing... perhaps you could help me remember what it feels like to be seen. To be chosen. Even if only for a little while."

Liora offers you her hand—delicate, almost transparent, trembling slightly in the cold night air.

"Would you walk with me? Just until the stars grow tired of watching?"