If this agenda advanced by reaching its doom threshold:

The mournful wail cascades over you like a wave of death. The specter - a ghostly image of a woman long since murdered - is beyond any hope of a peaceful afterlife. She seeks only vengeance, so that others might join her in purgatorial restlessness. You've killed for her once before and now, facing the full power of her undying gaze - black as the endless abyss - you're ready to do it again. Guest and staff alike fall by your hand until you collapse on the floor, soaked in the blood of innocents.

The locket rests in your open hand and you consider it now, standing in the sudden silence of the hotel. It seems such a simple thing, but this memento of dark events had a hand in the turmoils of the Excelsior, despite its unassuming appearance. You slide it into your pocket and turn toward the door, breathing a bit easier. You find some measure of comfort in knowing that the strange goings-on of the Excelsior have been put to rest, at least for now.