Put Them To Rest

Unlike myself, my servants are not aware of their ghastly condition. Even my sister's mind is slowly escaping her grasp. The peasants and workers begin to aimlessly wander the island, clinging to whatever they did when still alive. An endless purgatory, incapable of passing on into the afterlife. As their lord, it is my obligation to relinquish them from that limbo, yet I am unable to.

A most humble request, kind traveler: Break their spectral bodies and allow their souls to join the Light. It pains me to see them suffer still.

Their wailing haunts my undeath, a cacophony lamenting my incompetence as their lord.

Silence, not quite, but almost. My ghostly heart eases at your mercy. A noble deed of yours, truly. Had it not been for your kindness, the unrelenting torrent of their cries would have torn me into a vortex of insanity, that I am certain of. Balor's curse may be perpetual, yet its effects are now ever so slightly diminished. You are in my debt, <class>.