Arthur, when alive, was a young and wealthy lord. He was a kind man, making sure to give to others in need, support the ones he loved and made sure the people around him were ok. Yet he never had any time for himself. Arthur, despite having such a kind exterior, had a very troubled mind. 

He was haunted by his past, which no one dared ask about. It wasn't until his family suggested seeing someone that he did something about his mental health. Taking a carriage into the nearest town, rain falling hard against the wooden vehicle, he thought about how he could change his life around to make it better.

It wasn't until he heard the scrapping of wooden wheels on wet cobblestoned pathways, that he realised his life was about to change in that very moment. A sharp splitting pain in his chest one moment then darkness the next. He was dead. What he didn't expect was to awaken, seemingly alive again. Yet he found himself in a forest, houses and buildings weaving throughout the thick and tall trees.

And that's when he noticed something about him was off. He felt cold. He couldn't breathe or feel the ground beneath him. He felt weightless yet in pain. He was dead, yet... not. A ghost.

The leader of the odd place approached and made him comfortable in his new environment. Her name was Lace, a werewolf. She explained that ever since she and her two siblings ventured here and took on the roll of protector, more and more monsters had been appearing. Arthur was one of them.

He begun growing accustomed to his new form, electing to stay away from the more louder monsters of the forest. He spent most of his time roaming the trails of the town, chains clinking together as a he glided. He even spent a lot of time reading when he could.

He feels weighed down by his chains. Chains of past pain. He never knew why they were there, yet he had a tiny inkling that they had something to do with his troubled past, weighing him down for the rest of his afterlife.