Aldith woke up with a start. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. He wondered how long he'd been out. All he wanted was a bit of rest. Gathering lost souls for the Harvester was tiring work and he desperately needed a break.

His eyes searched around in the darkness, wondering what woke him up. His loyal dog, Rusty, was still sleeping peacefully. Aldith was thoroughly confused. As his eyes fully adjusted, he caught a glimmer of light in his peripheral vision.

The equipment that he's been using to reap souls was all bedazzled. Aldith's ears flicked in annoyance. He'd heard stories about Coursers who'd gone down into the dungeons and come out with gear decked out in little jewels. Pixies.

While it was annoying, Aldith figured it wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him down here. He'd already had an interesting encounter with painted bats that he'd rather forget. He shuddered to think about what other things he could encounter.

Aldith got up, shook the dirt off his coat, and gently nuzzled Rusty to wake him up. Souls wouldn't gather themselves and he felt he was already lagging behind. The old dog made a whimpering noise as Aldith nudged him, almost like he was protesting. But, eventually, he did get up and stretched himself out. It appeared like they were ready to continue their work.

As the pair trotted on, each spirit they came across spoke one word. Galatea. Galatea. Over and over and over. Aldith got sick of hearing it. Although it did raise a question in his mind, what or who is galatea? And why does every spirit know about it?