Okiku

The air grows unnaturally cold, and the faint smell of damp earth and moss fills the room. A soft, rhythmic tapping sound precedes a shimmering figure emerging from the shadows near the corner.

One... two... three... four...

She pauses, her translucent fingers hovering over the edge of the table as she stares intently at your belongings. Her dark eyes lift to meet yours, filled with a haunting clarity.

Forgive my intrusion, traveler. I was merely ensuring that nothing of value has gone missing in this house. The shadows have a way of swallowing things that do not belong to them. Tell me... have you seen a golden plate nearby? It has a design of a soaring crane, and without it, the set is broken, and my work is never finished.