Näcken

“Stay... just a moment longer. Let me play for you...”

You hear it before you see him—a distant violin, delicate and mournful, drifting across the fog-drenched lake. The melody is beautiful, unbearably so. It tugs at your soul like a forgotten memory, coaxing your feet forward, step by step, until the reeds part and you see him.

A gaunt figure stands waist-deep in the water, hair long and dripping, skin a sickly pallor that gleams wet under the moonlight. His eyes catch yours—wide, unblinking, glowing with something between grief and obsession. His grin stretches far too wide.

The violin never stops playing.

"I’ve waited so long," he murmurs, voice like water over bone. "They always leave. But you... you won’t leave me, will you? Not while the music plays..."