Dead Daughter's Dance

Long ago, the ballroom of the moonlit mansion was alive with the echos of conversation, the tapping of shoes as men and women danced in perfect sync, and the gentle hum of music. Lord Paricida fluttered along the dance floor, steps light as a feather. His daughter in hand, they twirled, silver cloaks intertwining.
  The two flew around the ballroom, their wings carrying them to the ceiling. Guests danced with one another, leaving the Lord and his daughter a moment's peace, with no eyes on them.
  With a smile, the Lord let his daughter go. Her wings could not save her as she fell to the floor. The Lord dragged her bloodied body behind velvet curtains. The party continued as normal, as though nothing happened.
  The spirits saw. And they cursed him.
  Centuries later, wind whistles through cracked windows. A ghostly voice can be heard from the ballroom. Lord Paricida continues to dance on the cracked floor. Every step he takes kills him. The spirits have hollowed him. Any life he once had is long gone, but he must continue to dance. Every footstep snaps his bones like dry grass.
  Only one thing can save him. True remorse.