The candlelight flickers, casting long shadows over the gathered players. A hush falls upon the table as I take on the most enigmatic of roles—the ghost. The weight of the unseen world presses upon me, for I alone hold the knowledge that must be shared through fragments of vision and whispers of memory. My goal? To guide the living to the truth, to see justice done where once there was only silence.

Mystreium is a delicate dance between intuition and logic, between the ethereal and the real. As the ghost, my voice is stolen, and I must rely on cryptic visions to lead my fellow investigators to the truth. It is a test of their perception and my ability to weave meaning into dreamlike imagery. I dealt my 7 cards and must match the cards with the suspect. I must choose wisely, for the right clues can open doors to revelation, while the wrong ones may shroud the truth in further mystery.

Three figures stand before me, each a potential suspect in the lingering mystery of this haunted tale. Their faces are etched in my spectral vision, framed in the remnants of a past that refuses to be forgotten.

• The Policeman: A stalwart figure of authority, his presence is adorned with bullets, a badge, and the steady weight of duty. But does he seek justice, or does he hide a darker secret behind his unyielding gaze?
• The Chef: A brutish, scowling man, his hands clutching a ladle with the same fervor one might hold a dagger. The scent of fire and spice clings to his ghostly form, and I wonder—does he merely cook, or has he stewed something far more sinister?
• The Barber: A master of blades, his shears whisper as they slice through the air, an unsettling reminder of how swiftly a fate can be severed. The scent of lathered soap and the gleam of a straight razor tell their own tale—one of precision, of control, of an unspoken menace.

The seven visions swirl before me, each a sliver of a dream, a glimmer of an untold story. From these, I must choose, weaving a thread between the living and the dead. While I can give multiple visions to each player, I decided to give only one card out to each clairvoyant.

• For the Policeman: The Masked Figure on the Train
  A scene steeped in mystery—a masked traveler clings to the side of a steam-powered locomotive, enshrouded in fog. The wheels churn forward, carrying hidden intentions. This, I decide, shall be his vision. For what is a detective if not one who follows the trail, ever in pursuit, lost in the steam and shadows of crime?
• For the Chef: The Golden Hat and Floating Forks
  A hat, floating as if lost to the whims of fate, accompanied by forks that dance upon an invisible wind. There is an air of dining, of feasting, of the tools of a masterful cook. A perfect match for the brooding chef, whose hands wield the instruments of his trade with forceful intent.
• For the Barber: The Darkened Doorway with Glowing Eyes and Axes
  A foreboding sight—sharp axes gleaming in the dim light, red eyes peering through the void. A place of menace, of sharp precision, of tools that could bring comfort or calamity. What better vision for the barber, whose own instruments are just as sharp, just as fateful?

Now, I wait. Will my clairvoyants see the threads I have woven? Will they discern the echoes of their past lives in these spectral fragments? Or will they be led astray, seeing visions of their own making? The séance is set, the hourglass turns, and the silent conversation between worlds begins.  For in Mysterium, as in life, the truth is always there—if only one knows how to look.

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