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 The ancient grounds were wrapped in fog, a chill air hung over the deadened stone ruins as Agatha followed her mother closely amidst the ghostly wisps trailing through the mist. The white robes she and her mother wore stood in stark contrast to the gray world which surrounded them, broken by splashes of green and brown where bits of plant life had begun to consume the ruins. Agatha imagined the swirling mists were ancient spirits, following and watching them, her body shivering from the thought as she moved closer to her mother uncertainly. “Mother,” she murmured quietly, afraid to disturb the air more than needed. “What a