"Not necessarily. I, um, I-I'm the only ghost that's m-made itself known, or so I've gathered from, um, from everyone's reactions. But there, th-there might be others. Others that's might be, um, less able t-to manifest themselves, or make themselves known on a recognizable human level."

He watches the prayerbook flop back to the ground, its ink ruined, its cover faded to unrecognizability. He wonders what it might have said, what sort of prayers to what sort of gods it might have contained. But, he'll never know, even if he could have reached out and picked it up. A few words that sound about right, that might have been suitable, flicker through his mind...but, nothing more, and he doesn't recognize them for what they are.

"...if there are others, though...I, um, I confess, I'd quite like to meet them."