It had been a long day. Or so, the Ghost Writer had assumed when he found the half ghost sleeping on the floor of his library. With a blatantly annoyed sighed the ghost lightly kicked the halfa, rolling him onto his stomach. "Unghf…." Danny Phantom let out a rather unmanly moan, his eyes beginning to flutter open. "Five more minutes Jazz…" He mumbled sleepily. The Ghost Writer watched with a wry smile as the white haired teen clutched his arms around his knees and curling into a ball. The smile did not last long; he was a ghost, albeit a well-adjusted one, but with that came being territorial. This time when he kicked the teen it was not as gentle, effectively rousing the ghost boy from his slumber. "Jazz! Quit it would you?" Danny immediately shouted irritably, leaping to his feet. The Ghostwriter was not amused. "Care to explain what you are doing here, Ghost Child?"
Danny's adrenalized eyes met Ghostwriter's cool ones. Danny was on the defensive; his body clenched tight, ectoplasm boiling at his fingertips, ready to battle at a seconds notice. In clear contrast, the Ghostwriter seemed simply, bored. His shoulders were limp, glasses and coat disheveled, a steaming mug held loosely in one hand. Nothing about his posture screamed "threat."
So Danny relaxed, the ectoplasm fading away and his shoulders dropping. "Sorry." He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Things got hectic at home. Everyone kept coming in through the ghost portal if I locked it from the outside…" The teen trailed off, tired from constantly ghost fighting and still wary of the formidable ghost in front of him. "So you locked it from the inside." The Ghostwriter concludes. He brushes his glasses up with the back of his wrist, taking in Danny's somewhat ragged appearance. He sighs again, turning away from the young ghost. (Who, he mulled, was still very human with human problems to face as well as the ones posed by their ghostly brethren.) "If you must sleep, you may do so inside." Grey lips curled around a pointed smile, "Undoubtedly if you remain outside much longer our dear friend Skulker may find his way to your scent. And I am quite certain that neither of us would like that." He chuckled as Danny hurriedly floated past him. "I thought so."
Danny was in awe. He had never seen this many books before, particularly not in this wide of an assortment. One even appeared to take up most of a wall. But the set that piqued his attention the most was at the far end of the central room. Floating past several rather large and well-worn Victorian couched and a grand fireplace, Danny stared into the glass case holding seven impossible books. The Ghost teen pressed himself against the glass, searching for any defining mark on the covers of the books or any indication on why they rotated the way they did. The set of seven floated in a lazy circle with in the case, twisting occasionally as if to taunt any viewer of their contents. But the feature that captivated Danny's interest the most (Even though if he was honest with himself it shouldn't be as strange or interesting as he found it) was that the books glowed. Six of these books glowed with an ethereal light emitting from the covers and each page, but the seventh only glowed from within the pages of the book.
"I see you've found my prize collection." Danny jumped at the sudden approach of the Ghostwriter. "Yeah. Umm… What are they?" Danny asked, gesturing with his thumb. The Ghostwriters eyebrows raised slightly, "You are aware what makes a ghost?" He asked with preemption. When the Phantom nodded in the affirmative the old Ghost continued. "There are many of these cases throughout my library. There is a volume for every, how should I say it? Corporal ghost in the ghost zone. It is a chronicle and a testament of their life to their death." He smirked, "There's even one for you, quite the interesting read I must say. Most people only die once. You're going to die twice."
The Ghostwriters eyes softened when the Phantom seemed to wilt. He pitied the boy, he had opened his Chronicle and seen a side of the boy very few of the other ghosts had seen. "As long as you'll be resting here, why not read a book?" He said. The Ghostwriter turned abruptly on his worn heels, the tattered hem of his coat billowing impressively. "Oh, you'll need this." The elder male tossed a silvery object into Danny's hands. The teen smiled, "Thanks."
The key and case glowed for a moment before vanishing in a bright flash, leaving the seven books in a pile for him to choice from. With little thought, the teen plucked the top book from its perch and settled into one of the couches. He began to read.
Skulker, the Ghost Zone greatest hunter was one a mortal man named….