Nathaniel’s blood ran cold as he stared at the figure before him. The dim moonlight that filtered through the trees revealed his brother’s face—pale, gaunt, and eerily translucent. His eyes were hollow, yet behind the emptiness was an unspeakable sadness, one that seemed to pull Nathaniel in, suffocating him under its weight. But there was something else. A flicker of something more—anger? Regret? He couldn’t tell.
Ben looked older than he had when he died. Worn, almost ancient, as if the years since that fateful night had stretched on endlessly for him, each moment eroding what little remained of his spirit. His presence was fragile, flickering like a candle flame on the verge of going out.
“Nathaniel,” Ben said at last, his voice soft, almost pleading. It carried a resonance that wasn’
