(It's an old, tarnished silver necklace.)

(You turn it over and see a name engraved in tiny script: "Crypto.")

(Perhaps the ghost who wanders through the cemetery knows something about it.)

Player: "Let's see if the ghost dropped something."

Such...courage in you. Most turn and flee at the mere sight of me. But you sought me out, and I see no fear in your eyes.

Indeed, you have nothing to fear. I am a shade...a spirit...nothing more. But my veins once surged with Asmodian blood, like yours. My body shivered in the cold wind, like yours.

You've piqued my curiosity. Why do you seek me out?

Player: "I found this necklace...."

Yes, indeed. That was my necklace many years ago.

Back when the prison had more than one prisoner, I was one of the guards. In those days, this place was teeming with the living: prisoners, guards, families paying respects in this graveyard.

Then everything changed. All because of me....

Player: "Because of you?"

It was my first shift on the night watch. Even now, I can't forget that night.

The prisoners were all sound asleep, so I wandered down to the graveyard. I remember the smell of the freshly turned soil and the cool breeze on my cheeks. I'd been on watch for about an hour, and then I...I fell asleep.

I woke to the sound of screaming. The prisoners had broken free and butchered all in their path. By the time I reached the village, the convicts were gone. I was left looking into the lifeless eyes of the children who had relied on my protection.

Player: "That's why you're still here?"

Yes. My guilt binds me to this place, though my body has long since perished.

The Victim Bones are still gathered here, a perpetual reminder of how I failed. Countless times I have tried to take them to the Incinerator so that I may sear them from my memories. Countless times I have watched them slip through my fingers...

Perhaps you could help. Could you gather the bones and cremate them for me? Only then will I be able to rest.

Player: "Consider this your last request."

(This must be the incinerator. Colored flames dance before your eyes, and the sheer heat of the fire tingles against your cold cheeks.)

Player: "Find your rest in the flow of Aether."

(The bones crackle as you throw them in. White smoke billows out as the gray bones slowly turn black and start to crumble.)

(Within moments nothing remains.)

Player: "I hope that helps."

(You don't have the bones to burn yet. Collect them, then return to the furnace.)

Player: "Right. I'll get on that."

Please...I can't bear the thought of wandering these paths for the rest of time, with those bones silently shaming me for my crime.

Did you do as I asked and burn them for me?

Player: "They're all gone."

Perhaps now I can rest, now that you've expunged the symbols of my failure.

I can offer you little in return for your deed, friend. Most of my worldly possessions have fallen apart over the years. But would this be of use to you?

In any case, I cannot tarry here forever. But I thank you.