The writer’s body had fallen apart long ago, the thing Braum is looking at is only a black robe supported by nothing but ice and snow. Instead a rather creepy being comes floating down in front of Braum.
"I though… death was… permanent in this… world…"
The ink-black being’s voice sounds weird, like pages being turned in a really old book being turned. The ice and snow seems to move right through it as if it’s isn’t there.
"Why were… you gone… We… I…"
Apparently the being ran out for words to speak as it reaches out it’s ink-black, claw like hands towards Braum, as if to hug him.