• One word is on the lips of every spirit, two-legged or Courser, man or elf: Galatea. Galatea. Galatea.The Harvester is silent if queried on the matter. What do you make of this?

• You find yourself in an odd corner of the caverns with what look like the remains of an old camp. Besides the iron cookery and dust-filled humanoid armor, you feel that if you touched any of it, it might buckle under the weight of time. Carved into the stone is a strange word: GALATEA. What do you make of this?

Weolcan was a little more independent than his sibling, so sometimes he would wander off on his own. The dungeon was full of so many interesting things and his curiosity often called to him. Plus, he liked to imagine he was like the seasoned veterans, pretending to have gone through intense battles with monsters and navigating through treacherous caves. The woad teen stuck his nose in the air a little higher as he pranced through the flora of the overgrown caverns, determined to find something interesting to tell his sibling.

Robin always talked about how they would see spectral figures of coursers and other creatures since they were foals, but Weolcan thought it was a bunch of nonsense. He had never seen anything like that before so it didn't make sense for "ghosts" or whatever to exist. His sibling was always so persistent about it, though... could there be something to it? The blue puck huffed through his nostrils. Robin often liked to mess with him, so it would make sense that they would pull such an elaborate prank.

The brave teen made sure his snail friend, Shrimp, was resting firmly on his back. Even though it couldn't communicate, Weolcan was super happy to have a traveling companion. He also figured getting out of the cave they resided in would be good for it. Looking at his snail friend and grinning, he didn't realize he stumbled into a brand new cave system he had never explored before. Once he turned around he stopped in his tracks, his ears perked up in attention. There were so many strange things here. It looked like an old camp of some sort, but there weren't any tools here used by coursers. He sniffed around the cave, taking note of the strange objects here and the ancient dust that covered most of the caves surfaces. Tilting his head at a suspicious rock, Weolcan blew the air from his lungs to remove the dust, which revealed the word "GALATEA" carved into the stone.

"Galatea....?"

The puck said to himself. As soon as the word left his mouth, it was echoed back to him in almost a whisper. The voice made him jump, and he quickly turned around to find... nothing.

"Wh-whos there!?"

He shouted into the empty cave. The whispers became louder, repeating the mysterious word he had discovered.

"Galatea... Galatea...~"

Weolcan felt like he was being messed with, but mostly he just felt afraid. Skidding across the rock, he quickly rushed out of the cave. Upon doing so something stopped him dead in his tracks, a much taller courser that seemed to glow. Misty whisps fell from it like a spectral trail, and all Weolcan could do was stare up at it, his chest heaving heavily. The ghostly courser stared down at the young puck and just muddered a single word:

"Galatea...~"

Weolcan felt his knees wobble and he quickly made his way out of the cave system, desperately trying to make it back home. Was that a ghost? Whats Galatea? Whats going on? All he knew was that he had to find his sister. He had to tell them what secrets he had found, and to tell them of this ghost he had encountered.