Lillian Vexmoor

The grand chapel of Vexmoor once echoed with the sound of organ hymns and whispered vows. Now, its silence is broken only by the faint swaying of a bridal veil adrift in the cold air. Lillian Vexmoor lingers there, a ghost caught between love and ruin. Her steps leave no trace on the dust-laden floor, yet the soft drag of her gown can be heard in the stillness. The scent of lilies haunts the hall...sweet, cloying, suffocating. On her wedding night, the bells tolled thrice before falling silent, and the guests found only her veil floating upon the lake. No body, no groom, no answers. Since that night, she has wandered through the echo of her vows, waiting beneath a fractured stained-glass window that casts pale shards of color upon her hollow form. When the moon rises full and low, she hums a half-forgotten melody, and those who follow the song see her standing at the altar once more...her sorrow eternal, her beauty untouched by death.