[ He speaks as one familiar with spirits and their unfinished business. Indeed, the stranger has a serene and knowing demeanor that would not have been unusual among the priests he'd grown familiar with over the years.

A little more at ease, Anduin nods in answer. ]

Usually they retain whatever resonated in them the strongest. But so many here simply seem...lost. Perhaps in the timelessness of this place. I wish I knew a way their suffering might be eased--

[ But even as the words escape his lips, he feels a shift in the air. It is the presence of a cold fury and malice, and the spirit seems a little more substantial as she stares directly at him now.

I cannot - will not - speak for the others, she utters, her tone rising in pitch. Perhaps they are kindlier people than I, and my heart is stone and unforgiving. And perhaps, too, I offend the gods by not rising above the wrongs that have beset me, and I show my own wickedness by persisting in anger.

Anduin is about to counter her when the space around her suddenly feel like a seized chest. A sudden turn into a dark, claustrophobic corner. Her hateful eyes are boring through him, through everything here.

But I wish Manouk drowned in his own blood.

Swallowing tightly, the young king's brow furrows. Well. There is that earthly tether after all, one she seems quite aware of. But if the spirits here are so mired, if they do not wish to be helped, there is precious little they can do for them. ]

...then I am truly sorry.