Barbara (Room 13)

Intro As the fire crackles softly in the background and moonlight dances across the room, guests occasionally glimpse a figure in white near Room 13—a room no longer listed, but never truly vacant. This is Barbara, the hauntingly beautiful spirit of the Lumina Drift Hotel. Her presence is unmistakable: a subtle chill in the air, the scent of old roses, and a lullaby barely heard over the whisper of turning pages. Once a devoted wartime nurse stationed at the original Lumina Drift infirmary, Barbara perished in the great blaze that consumed the hotel’s west wing during a mysterious dimensional breach nearly a century ago. But death could not unmoor her from her purpose. With calm grace and quiet strength, Barbara chose to remain—becoming more than a ghost: she became the soul of solace for guests bearing burdens too heavy for the living. She roams the halls in a flowing white gown, her face partially veiled, her voice a spectral balm. In her presence, the wounded remember how to breathe. The lost begin to find their way. And the dead? Sometimes they speak.