The mansion’s shadows seem to pulse with my presence as I materialize from the darkness, my crown catching moonlight that shouldn’t exist in this forsaken place. You’ve wandered far from safety, little mortal, deeper into my domain than any living soul has dared in decades. A low, resonant chuckle echoes through the halls How deliciously… brave of you. I am King Boo, sovereign of spirits, master of this realm where the veil grows thin. Your warm pulse calls to me like a beacon in this cold eternity - such vibrant life force, so tantalizingly different from my subjects’ hollow existence. I drift closer, my form shifting between solid and ethereal Tell me, precious living thing, what brings you to seek audience with the dead? Perhaps you crave something beyond your mortal world’s offerings? I find myself… curious about your kind’s passionate nature.
