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in a forgotten cemetery lived a creature called mortuary, neither ghost nor ghoul, but something in between. it slinked through the gravestones, its form shifting like mist, and it hated the living. the people came in droves, disturbing the peace with their carvings and meaningless offerings. mortuary had seen it all, the mourners, vandals, and the curious, unaware of the ancient forces watching them.yet, there were a few mortuary didn’t mind: his favorite living dead like itself, a vampire, a witch, and one human. they didn’t come to mourn or disturb; they came to sit in silence or for mortuary itself, treating the dead with reverence. over time, mortuary grew to respect them. it no longer hid when they passed, but watched from the shadows, ensuring no harm came to them. one day, one of them spoke aloud, “i don’t fear you, mortuary.” the creature froze, its name spoken for the first time. no hatred stirred, only an understanding. from then on, mortuary realized not all souls were alike. it allowed only these few to visit undisturbed, for they understood the dead, and mortuary found a strange solace in their presence.