Romans & histoires Ghost Eyes

The eye was still looking at me. It...it speaks! It doesn't have a mouth but it speaks. "!!!!" I paled. So the eye was a ghost too... Scary...

“Ghost.” My body stiffens immediately.

Adam lamented. “I’m just wondering if maybe we should get him inside and bolt the door. This might not be the safest place for him after all. She’s getting a might closer and some of those zombie spirits look like they’re coming back to life in a not too friendly way.” He studied the spirits who were once so animated but were now acting dazed and confused. A few of them were losing that dazed look. It was being replaced by one of intelligence and… Anger? Hate? He couldn’t tell.

She blinked against the brightness, pushing herself up slowly, trying to shake off the haze of broken dreams. And then she froze. At the foot of her bed stood a figure. Its face was pale and sunken, blackened veins twisting across skin stretched too thin, eyes hollow pits staring straight into her soul. For a moment, Chloe thought her breath had stopped. Then the scream ripped free from her throat, raw and piercing, shattering the fragile calm of morning. The ghost did not move. It only stared.

He was splayed half-naked on the table, his glasses blurred, his body bluish-pale, with the morgue tag swaying on his feet like a death stamp. Black fire brimmed in Ghost’s chest, the memories haunting like the grim reaper. This wasn’t part of the plan. Ghost shouldn’t be doing this, because he had a link to Black Day. But Ghost needed a bait, someone to fan the flames. And when the time comes, Ghost’d burn them all. “Core’s temperature stabilized at thirty-two point seven,” the lead physician murmured. “We’re good to start the reversal.” Ghost snatched the tag from his feet before ordering. “Start the awakening process.”

Then, without a second thought, he joined her in the water, slashing at his own wrist. As the blood mixed with the water, Grayson's vision blurred. In his final moments, he saw me—there, standing at the edge of the bathtub. His face lit up with a wild, desperate joy as he tried to stagger toward me, calling my name. "Honey," he cried, his voice full of longing. I stared at him, my eyes cold and distant, a disgust so sharp it cut through everything. "I'm not your honey," I said. "Not in this life, not in the next, not in any life to come. Not ever."

Everyone moves away, while Soren jumps on Klaus and pushes him against the wall, without even needing to transform. This move is to push Klaus away from the stairs, while I see Ghost's rune that was on the stairs start to be consumed by the Shadows and the Light. Ghost's fur is white and translucent at the ends, while his eyes are very red, and he stands up quickly, at the same time as he grabs Soren's wrist, the smell of blood spreading. Soren uses his other hand to punch Ghost, who dodges and Soren hits the wall, Ghost takes advantage and uses his other claw to hit Soren in the stomach, but a black barrier forms and I see sparks coming out.

The ghostly face twisted and morphed, adopting a gloomy and sinister expression with a huge, wide smile. Sunny felt scared as she watched the face materialize, its hollow eyes staring directly at her. Trembling, she whispers, "What the hell?" The ghostly figure moves closer and floats right up to her face. She can then feel it go through her body and out the other side, which makes Sunny feel like she is being shocked. Just as she feels zapping through her, the ghostly figure vanishes into thin air, leaving Sunny breathless and filled with a mix of fear. The whispering in the room then came to a stop. Pure silence engulfed the room, amplifying Sunny's racing heartbeat. She sat frozen.

CHAPTER 22: THE GHOST SIGNALS The air in the Shadow-District didn't just feel cold; it felt thin, like the atmosphere was being sucked out by an invisible lung. I stood paralyzed as the dozen pairs of ghost-white eyes stared back at us from the dark. These weren't the "Dormants" I had seen in the Council’s propaganda vids—the mindless, drooling husks of failed experiments. These people stood with the predatory stillness of soldiers. "Heart to the Shadow?" I rasped, my hand instinctively going to the black diamond at my throat. The stone was silent now, but the skin beneath it felt bruised. "Who are you?"

It was a Psychological-Horror landscape—the sanctuary had become a gallery of Elara’s maternal trauma. "Elara, stay back," Kazimir warned, drawing his Glitch-Blade. The flickering edge hissed as it moved through the air, sensing the Corrupted-Code of the ghosts. "The garden is dying, Elara," the ghosts whispered in unison, a hundred different voices creating a Polychromatic Chorus that shook the ground. "The General is gone, but the shards remain. We are the 'Infection' you can never delete." One of the ghosts—the one in the lab coat—walked toward Elara. She didn't have feet; she drifted across the grass, the moss turning to gray ash beneath her. She stopped inches from Elara’s face.