In the quagmire a weak thing rose. It burst from the sludge and muck with slimy detritus clinging to its new skin. Gasping for air, it cried out with a voice unsure of its purpose. A few more shuddering coughs and it fell quiet, resting its palm on a thick tree trunk. The little light hovering above its shoulder nervously shivered in the air. “D-did it work?” It asked. “Are y-you, alive, Guardian?”
The Guardian replied by vomiting blood and detritus upon her bare feet. “What…” she choked out. “What am I?”
The light laughed at this. “Oh joy!” it cheered. “I have f-found my ward! You are t-truly the one!”
“Where… am I?” She stared at her hands. Her mind was a dense fog.
But still the light ignored her. “Yes, yes! F-finally! I was beginning t-to think that I would never f-find you!”
“Who… are you?” Tears rolled down her cheeks as her weak and clammy hands flexed in the muffled moonlight.
“I am the first Ghost!” the light chirped, finally taking notice. “B-but you… you are not t-the first Guardian.” It laughed again. The sound was harsh to her ears.
Slowly, she raised her head to face the Ghost. She could see her reflection in its quivering eye. Fierce eyes and a face like a torn paper bag. “What does [i]any[/i] of that mean?” she cried.
“Remember?” It inquired hungrily. “Oh d-don’t you remember? T-the Collapse? The D-darkness? Your name?”
She shook her head. “Should I?” she growled.
“I… I-I don't know…” The Ghost drooped like a deflated balloon. “I d-don’t know how it is supposed t-to be… The others… it’s b-been so long…”
“My name is Muck, then.” She glared at the tiny thing before her. “For that is what you have made me out of, [i]Ghost[/i].” She spat the word like a slur. The Ghost did not answer. “Tell me, Ghost, if you can fashion me flesh can you fashion me clothes? The night is cold and you are not warm.”
And so the Ghost took the leaves from a tree and crafted a cloak. From the bark it sculpted a pair of gauntlets and boots. And from the stones in the earth it forged a helmet of obsidian, blacker than night.
Muck took these gifts with more relish than she took the Ghost’s gift of flesh. “Now answer me this,” she demanded. “What is the strength I feel in my ancient bones? What power courses through this fake flesh?”
“T-the Light, my Lady,” said the Ghost meekly. “The Traveller’s… t-he Traveller’s Light.”
“Why?”
“So that you m-may smite the Darkness.”
“How?”
“Follow me.”
[spoiler]yeah it's fanfic but heck off baby, Ghost is back!!![/spoiler]
-
Make it a tag so we can follow it