@deathswcrn | plotted starter
New rooms seemed to reveal themselves across the Lighthouse quite often these days. Another had appeared, and the Caretaker informed Emmrich it was called the Music Room. It might have been a delightful discovery had the Caretaker not followed the announcement with a warning:
"Careful, dweller, a companion bound by nefarious forces is found within."
The phrasing was peculiar, but it intrigued the necromancer. With a polite nod of thanks to the Caretaker, he ventured in. As he moved down the corridor, the atmosphere shifted, the faint pull of the Fade brushing against his arcane senses. There was an undeniable disturbance, and his years of expertise immediately led him to suspect the involvement of spirits.
The door to the Music Room swung open easily, as if it had already been loosened from the years of disuse.
At first glance, it appeared as expected: a long-abandoned room, with dust covering the elegant lines of a piano and furniture faded by time. But it was not empty. By the window, seated in a chair as if she had simply fallen asleep there, was Bree. Her pallor was pale, her breathing uneven, and her eyes shut tight.
Emmrich gathered his wits—there was spirit work here, and the odds of malign involvement grew as he swiftly crossed the room. Kneeling before Bree, he took her hand and gave it a gentle shake to wake her.
He recalled cases like this—mages encaptured by spirits, their severities varying with the nature of the spirit involved. Sometimes the connection waned, and they broke free alone. Other times, they needed help. Knowing time was precious and likely little could be done by anyone else, he released her hand, dragged the piano’s bench across the floor with a firm pull, and seated himself directly across from her.
Taking her hand again, he closed his eyes, slipping into a meditative state. Wherever she was, he would find her—and bring her back.
