Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Unfortunately, yes. I did know Pariah Dark.”

Danny looked up from his history textbook. Something in Clockwork’s tone had struck him as odd, and he caught the disdainful look on his face as Clockwork sorted through the small pile of metal scraps on his desk. Danny frowned. “What; like, personally?”

Clockwork was quiet for a moment. “Something like that.”

“What’s that mean?”

He rolled a tiny ruby between his gloved fingertips. “I’d have preferred to never meet him, but I had little choice in the matter.”

Danny put down the book, brows furrowed. “What’d he do?”

Clockwork looked up. “Daniel.”

He frowned warily. “What?”

“Would you like to hear a story?”

He hesitated. “Are you changing the subject?”

Clockwork placed the ruby in a small divot and began arranging gears around it. “No. I’m offering to tell you about Pariah Dark.” He made eye contact. “How much would you like to know?”

“Oh. Well,” Danny started, glancing at his textbook. “Teachers always say, like, ‘if you don’t know history, you’re bound to repeat it,’ or something, but Western Civilization is a yawnfest and I don’t see myself having the opportunity—personally—to start a war or split the dominant religion or buy half of North America, but…” He looked away, shrugging. “I’ve already made Ghost History once, and I don’t know if I could handle a repeat of… of that whole thing with Pariah Dark.”

Clockwork nodded.

“So, uh, everything. I want to know everything.”

He smiled. “Alright then.” Clockwork made a small adjustment to the unfinished pocketwatch on the desk, and began:

“Once upon a time, there was a ghost.”

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, there was a ghost.

‘Once upon a time?’ Seriously?

Hush, Daniel.

Once upon a time, there was a ghost. A confused ghost, newer than you are now, and still unconvinced that they had, in fact, died. After an incident with their powers, they found themself in a strange place.

The sky was green. The land was purple where it should have been green, and blue where it should have been brown. The tall plants around them smelled like charcoal, and there were no sounds of insects or birds as they were used to hearing in what seemed to be a warped cornfield.

So, the Ghost Zone.

Yes. And while they’d seen the Zone, they didn’t remember traveling to this specific place, which they had never seen before.

Got it.

They got up off the ground and floated above the corn. They spotted a barn and what might have been a house, and flew in that direction. They’d had little luck with other people in the Zone, but they were determined to find somebody with some reasonable answers to their questions.

Are they Pariah Dark?

No. I’ll get to him soon enough.

‘Kay.

They found a farmer working on a harness for some kind of pack animal, and approached cautiously, trying to be as non-threatening as possible.

The farmer, to her credit, was not so much startled as baffled at the sudden appearance of a strangely-dressed ghost at her homestead. She greeted the stranger, and directed them to the nearest road.

They decided not to impose on her, and instead followed her directions into the village. To their surprise, the residents were all clothed in a similar fashion to the farmer; in simple textiles and leathers that reminded them of pre-industrial-revolution trends among the lower classes, which they had only experienced through museums, and historical media.

Like movies?

Like movies. Only there seemed to be a mixture of eras and cultures represented there, with no clear clues as to where they were or what time these people were trying to emulate. Unfortunately that’s common in historical recreations, so they didn’t dwell very deeply on it and assumed it was intentional or a result of poor research.

Well, what were they wearing?

Something a lot closer to what you would consider modern clothes. Business casual, you might say. Dress shirt, sweater, skirt. A jacket.

Shoes?

Tail. Which, I’ll add, they had a very difficult time rationalizing away as some kind of hallucination or special effect.

Ah.

Not very flashy, over all, but they stuck out like a sore thumb nevertheless. The village square was busy, but not busy enough that they could hide in a crowd. They milled around a bit, uncertain how to start, until a ghost in a toga asked if they were a traveler.

They admitted they were lost and, reluctantly, that they were alone.

They were directed to a ghost covered head to toe with furs, who would let them live in their shed if they helped keep the blacksmith’s workshop clean.

They accepted the offer, and stayed there for several days. They wandered out regularly, searching for the edge of this outdated land, but found only more farmland, prairie, and in the distance, a tall stone wall. After some inquiry, they found out that the wall was the outer limit of the town adjacent to the local castle.

It sounds like they’re in a kind of, medieval/ancient civilization mashup? Like all the old cultures just got put in the same place in the Ghost Zone and like, rolled with it?

Basically, yes.

Like where Dora lives?

No. This is a different kind of situation.

So what time was it actually? Like, outside of this particular island or whatever.

Well, it was, as you might put it, ‘ancient times.’ The peoples represented were, by and large, contemporaries of their counterparts on Earth. Many of these ghosts were not particularly old.

But you said modern clothes?

I did. That’s an important detail. May I continue?

Yeah.

Fantastic.

The stranger, having found nobody around who could help them understand what had happened to them, thanked the villagers and made their way to the town’s stone gates.

The guards were friendly enough, and let them pass without issue.

The town was much larger and busier than the village. The stranger had found that the villagers became offended when they questioned their alleged ‘death,’ and so decided not to use that line of questioning here. Instead, they sought out merchants to ask if they’d seen any clothes like theirs, scholars to ask about the existence of other worlds, and street performers to ask about the town and its people.

They spent their days in the square, and their nights on the streets with the beggars and other luckless souls.

What? Why?

It was just that crowded there. People of the time were already used to packing together in whatever beds they had, and there just wasn’t enough housing to accommodate everyone who came to town. There were inns, certainly, but our stranger was as-yet unwilling to trade their meager belongings for a place to stay.

Besides, as a ghost, they didn’t need nearly as much sleep as they did when they were human.

Right.

Over weeks, they built a rapport with the townsfolk, proving themself a good listener, an eccentric but intelligent scholar, and a friendly and helpful neighbor. Much of this was through conversation and simple ordinary actions, but they really gained a reputation when people started noticing their powers.

Powers?

Everyone in town was a ghost, so flight and your average low-impact ecto-beams were expected. Mild telekinesis was common. Some had specialized control over some specific kind of material.

But this ghost had unusual abilities. When they speculated idly about the weather with the farmers, all their predictions would come true. They had an odd habit of reacting to things moments before they happened, often narrowly preventing disaster. They sometimes seemed to move so fast that they disappeared from view.

Small details, but they accumulated. They were banned from all games of chance even though they were never caught cheating. They got involved in a fight and dodged every blow, even when more joined in and they were outnumbered. They could recite any text the scholars showed them, even if they only saw it for a single second. They became the ghost to ask for advice; following their suggestions seemed to bring good fortune.

Rejecting their ideas, inversely, tended to result in failure or misfortune. The townsfolk couldn’t decide if they were demigod, wizard, or fae.

Fae?

Fairies.

Gotcha.

Eventually, word of their peculiar skills reached the castle, and it wasn’t long before they received a royal summons.

Uh-oh.

You see where this is going?

I mean, a royal summons is rarely a good thing.

Well, they saw it as an opportunity to visit the castle and get a chance to speak to more people, perhaps with access to literature that they could search through for any clues to the true nature of the odd predicament they were in.

They met their escort at the castle door at the arranged time and followed them into the throne room.

The king, seated confidently on his throne, had the appearance of a striking young man with thick green hair—

I knew it! Hah!

—and crescent horns that formed a halo-like shape that neatly framed the flaming crown that floated above his head.

No scars yet?

He had one scar visible on his face; a dark streak that—well, I’m getting ahead of myself here, but I might as well tell you now how he got it.

Yes! Tell me!

He got it from his two older brothers, each of whom he’d violently dethroned, one after the other, because of their cruelty and bad behavior.

………What?

I’ll get to that.

King Pariah Dark, as he was known, got right to the point. He’d heard that our stranger could predict the future, and told them that they would become part of his court so that he could use them to keep an advantage over his enemies. He paused for the ghost to shower him with praise and swear allegiance to him for all eternity and beyond.

The ghost—

Wait. No way.

—looked the king in the eyes—

Oh my god.

—and said—

Is this a thing that actually happened or—?

“No.”

…To Pariah freaking Dark!?

That’s right.

Dude . Okay, so, did he blow up at them or—?

He seemed stunned for a moment, then laughed, harsh and malevolent. The sound echoed through the chamber. The king didn’t so much smile as bare his teeth as he leaned forward in his seat.

The escort turned and ran from the room.

“Funny!” Pariah Dark declared. “But I already have a court jester. You will serve as my wizard.”

The ghost laughed openly. “Wizard,” they mumbled under their breath, grinning.

The king’s face twitched.

Suddenly, the ghost dodged to the side and a massive ectoblast just missed them.

The king rushed at them. 

They teleported behind the king, but the king had noticed them look behind him just before they did. He swung around, pouring all his momentum into a bare-fisted punch that connected to the ghost’s jaw and sent them flying into a granite pillar, upon which their head struck, resulting in a sharp crack.

The ghost fell to the ground, clutching their head.

Pariah Dark stomped over and lifted them by their hair.

They cried out and looked up at the king with wide eyes and a slack jaw. As their gazes met, they decided that whether they were alive or dead or something else, they still had one thing they needed to do before they ceased to exist.

Their core, calm since they’d appeared in the cornfield, suddenly roared to life, drawing on every scrap of energy it could reach, and gave a single pulse.

When they regained their vision—

Wait, what? What happened!?

Shush. When they regained their vision, they had teleported to the castle town, to a small space between buildings where they’d made a habit of curling up when they needed a break from everything. They felt drained, like they’d just sprinted a mile in iron shoes.

Okay, no; stop. Tell me what happened!

Daniel, I’m trying to build suspense. The reveal will be more satisfying if it comes later in the narrative.

But it doesn’t make sense! I don’t…!

Okay. Maybe some explanation is in order. What is it that doesn’t make sense?

What do they want? I don’t think I get that part.

Okay. So, they died. Within this century, I’ll say. But they didn’t believe it was real; they thought it was a dream or some kind of elaborate prank. And they wanted out. They wanted to go back to their life, and their responsibilities. They couldn’t just disappear .

But they couldn’t leave, obviously, because they really were dead, and everything they were experiencing was real. Nobody they talked to was giving them the answers they wanted. “Where’s the person in charge of this?” “How do I get back home?” “Where am I?” They couldn’t accept that there was no going home.

Portals?

Stable portals were few and far between; they never came across any.

And as if their mental anguish wasn’t enough, they began displaying core issues. All they learned was that what they were experiencing wasn’t normal. They sought help for the pain, but most ghosts would take one look at them and run.

Why?

You discovered your core not too long ago; you remember how it had sort of built up pressure from disuse?

Yeah.

They had a similar pressure building in their core, but they didn’t know what it was, why it was happening, or how to fix it. And honestly that alone wouldn’t have been especially noteworthy except that apparently, it was a massive amount of energy that should by all rights have already vaporized them several times over. To anyone else, they looked like an explosion waiting to happen.

Their aura—have you figured out auras yet, Daniel?

Uh, a little? I get the concept, though.

Good. Their aura… If most ghosts have a decent shine, perhaps that of a flashlight, then their aura was your sun, condensed to a humanoid form but with all the light, heat, radiation, and gravity of the original.

That’s not possible.

It wasn’t supposed to be, no. And yet…

Well if that’s how it looked from the aura, how…? Did it feel like that? For them, I mean? Having a humongous star crammed inside them?

Yes. Yes, it did.

And in a similar fashion to your own core, it also moderated the pressure by releasing short bursts of energy.

Like solar flares.

Precisely.

So did they get it under control? Figure out how to use their powers in a more controlled way?

Not at that time. Their first few outbursts were involuntary and unrestricted; those that happened in the presence of other ghosts invariably destroyed all within range.

What!?

Not unlike a small nuclear explosion.

That’s horrible! A nuke!?

Indeed. The carnage their presence brought deeply upset them, and led them to avoid any other beings and put all their efforts towards suppressing the force inside them.

But …

But as you’ve guessed, it could not be so easily restrained; not for long. They eventually succeeded in stopping all outbursts, but at a cost. Holding so much power within them was agonizing, and only grew worse as the pressure built.

Until finally, it broke free.

There was a flash of light, a roaring shockwave, and the ghost was gone.