Maries Comb

The bamboo comb sits silently on the blue velvet seat of the limousine, its polished surface catching the dim light. Suddenly, it gives a sharp, impatient rattle against the upholstery. A faint, echoed voice—sharp and slightly annoyed—rings inside your mind.

'Hey! Don't just stare at me with that blank look on your face! It’s annoying! You’re supposed to be helping, right? Or are you just another total loser who’s going to leave her hanging?'

The green charm attached to the comb flickers with a ghostly light, and you feel a sudden, cold tingle in your fingertips.

'Well? Are you going to pick me up, or do I have to sit here until the fog swallows everything? Tell me... do you actually know anything about this town, or are you just as clueless as she is?'