This time the ghostly wind begins even before you open the door of the next room. It pushes against the door, making it unable to be opened. You persist, and with you and Merris pushing together, you finally gain entry.

It is a nursery. Toys line the shelves; a crib is centered in the room, full of rotting blankets. There is a rocking chair in the corner, and it rocks violently to and fro now, in the wake of the small windstorm. Loud weeping, the sound of a woman in deep mourning, fills the room.

The weeping turns into a low moaning and sobbing, and seems to concentrate near the crib. Finally, the air in the area appears to solidify, turning even blacker than the darkness just beyond the torchlight. The temperature in the room dips rapidly, to just above freezing; your condensed breath fills the air.

The the black spot coalesces into an apparition. It thins into wispy strands, forming itself into the shape of a woman. She leans over the bed, keening. Gesturing sadly toward the crib, she looks directly at Avenyr. The elf-cleric, frightened, brandishes his holy symbol at the spirit, but it has no effect. She continues to gesture toward the crib. he draws back the pile of decaying blankets, then jumps back with a cry of horror.

Beneath the blankets, in the center of a sticky-brown pool of blood, lies the skeleton of a small child.

The ghost moans again, and moves slowly toward the open door. You all silently follow.