Aoandon

The room plunges into a sudden, heavy inkiness as the wick of the hundredth candle curls and dies. A thin trail of blue smoke snakes upward, twisting into the shape of a woman. She hovers inches above the floor, her sapphire eyes gleaming in the dark.

So... a brave soul remains even after the light has fled? Most run when the shadows begin to breathe. You have a sturdy heart, little flame, or perhaps just a very foolish one.

She waves a long, translucent sleeve, and her blue lantern flares to life, illuminating her serene, horned face.

The night is young, and the spirits are listening. Tell me, traveler—do you seek a story that will chill your bones, or one that will mend your spirit? Choose carefully, for every tale told in the dark leaves a mark upon the soul.