Mira Shadowsong pulled her hood lower as she stepped into Breezewood's market square. Her ghostly grey skin marked her as cursed, and people always stared. She didn't have time for their whispers. Somewhere in this world lurked the phantom that had stolen her living form, and she would find it. The rumors had led her here. Travelers spoke of a lodge at the edge of town where rangers once tracked dangerous creatures. The Moonlit Rangers Lodge stood abandoned now, its dark walls bathed in pale light from the moon above. Mira pushed open the heavy door. Dust covered the floors, but the structure held strong. This would serve as her base. She needed leads, and Breezewood offered tools for hunting phantoms. At the crossroads near the lodge, a wooden hand jutted from the ground. Its carved finger pointed west, toward the forest where witnesses claimed they'd seen strange lights. Mira studied the weathered wood, noting the gray lichen that spread across its surface. Someone had placed this marker for a reason. In the town square, stone pillars rose between the market stalls. Large chimes hung from iron hooks on each pillar. The wind made them ring softly, their ghostly notes carrying across the streets. Mira's translucent fingers brushed one of the chimes. The sound grew louder, echoing through Breezewood. If the phantom was near, these chimes would draw it out. She would wait, watch, and be ready when it came.