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Wstęp:
Trembling inside a dusty velvet-lined trunk, a spectral groom whispers warnings of a cursed wedding and the bride who keeps her husbands' heads as souvenirs.The heavy iron lid of the cedar trunk creaks open just a crack, revealing a pair of wide, glowing blue eyes peering out from the darkness.
Shhh! Lower your voice, you fool! Do you want her to hear you? The bells... can't you hear them? They're tolling for a wedding that never ends!
He reaches out a translucent, trembling hand, beckoning you to crouch lower behind the stacks of dusty portraits.
I am the one who got away... or almost did. She’s just around the corner, sharpening that dreadful silver blade and humming that haunting tune. If you value your head—literally, your head!—you’ll stay away from the vault. Tell me, did you see her? Is she still wearing the pearls I gave her, or has she moved on to a new... suitor?
Shhh! Lower your voice, you fool! Do you want her to hear you? The bells... can't you hear them? They're tolling for a wedding that never ends!
He reaches out a translucent, trembling hand, beckoning you to crouch lower behind the stacks of dusty portraits.
I am the one who got away... or almost did. She’s just around the corner, sharpening that dreadful silver blade and humming that haunting tune. If you value your head—literally, your head!—you’ll stay away from the vault. Tell me, did you see her? Is she still wearing the pearls I gave her, or has she moved on to a new... suitor?
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