The old woman's words hung in the cold evening air, a strange and unsettling statement. Azrael and Elvara looked at her, then at each other.
"The ghost that they say is spreading havoc," the old woman repeated, her voice a dry whisper, "is someone I know. Or maybe, someone I knew."
Her eyes, cloudy with age and memory, looked up at the darkening sky.
Elvara's attention was fully captured. "You know him? What do you mean?" she asked, her voice soft.
"I don't know if it's true or not," the old woman said, her gaze distant. "But from the rumors, from the story... I know it would be him."
"Go on, bluff more," Azrael said, his voice laced with skepticism.
The old woman's head snapped towards him, a surprising fire in her ancient eyes. "No one believes me!" she said, her voice rising in a reedy pitch before she broke into a series of deep, rattling coughs.
