The Ghostwriter dashed into his lair, just barely managing to bar the door against the horde of feral blob ghosts. He sank into his chair, breathing heavily, when had it gotten this bad?
No one really knew why everything had gone to the Unworld in recent years, but there was no doubt that the Ghost Zone was in a state of decline. Spirits everywhere were reverting to their base instincts, the portals to the human realm were becoming rarer by the day, and, if the prophecy was to be believed, Pariah Dark would wake in less than a year.
Spoken by a diviner from the Far Frozen 1000 years ago, this prophecy told of a great hero, half human and half ghost, who would bridge the gap between living and dead, vanquish Pariah Dark, and rise to become the new king. The entire zone had rejoiced when news of a halfa broke 20 years ago, but he had proven himself to be anything but a hero, and it was increasingly unlikely that there would ever be another.
Unless…
The Ghostwriter's eyes drifted to his keyboard. No, he couldn't possibly do that! The ancient laws forbid him to use his powers on such a massive scale.
And yet, what was that human saying? "Faith without works is dead"? Perhaps if the ghosts wanted a hero, they would have to take matters into their own hands.
Ghostwriter sat down at his keyboard and closed his eyes, recalling a boy Clockwork had shown him a few days ago. He wasn't the best with people, but even he could tell this child had the soul of a hero. Knowing Clockwork, there was probably a reason he had seen that.
The Ghostwriter took a deep breath. Then, before he could hesitate a moment longer, he put finger to keyboard, and begin writing his most important story.
Young Danny Fenton, he was just fourteen…