Warning. This chapter contains brief language. Proceed with caution.
In the light and alive.
Epíphantos
Chapter Ten:
The Greenest Green
When Sam woke, the floor was shaking.
H er hands became claws as they fisted in her furry blankets. Even from her room, she could hear the deep thunder of explosions. She forced herself to breath. Deep breaths—in, and out. In, and out. Don't think about it. Don't freak out, don't freak out, don't . . .
It was getting easier to handle. Each and every time her world rocked and the incessant roaring of war pounded in her ears, she'd make a point to stay in her bed. Wait it out, and listen. Distract herself by staring into the illusion of twinkling stars at her ceiling. Ignore when they flickered into transparency as a powerful blast hit the mountain castle. She knew it was pathetic. Warriors were supposed to be fearless. She was supposed to be fearless.
But she wasn't. She knew that now.
Sam closed her eyes and brought her hands to her chest. She waited.
Nearly an hour later, all was quiet, and it was then that Sam knew the attack was over. She grimaced as she lay there. From past experience she knew how the rest of her day would go. Frostbite's near-perpetual optimism would dissipate into somberness, as would Tsuel's. The whole town of Ec'Nelis would be in a state of ruin, and the yeti community would work in unison to restore it. They would leave Sam in the dark as they always did, refusing to tell her anything. She had it down to a science.
Sighing, Sam untangled herself from the furs of her cot. Her stomach twisted in hunger. Tsuel was usually at her door in the late morning hours, and from what Sam could tell by use of her biological clock (her actual watch remained in her confiscated pack), it was well past afternoon. She frowned as she pulled on her boots, slipped the coat over her head. And she waited some more.
The past few weeks had been uneventful, to say the least. More instruction from Frostbite, more walks with Tsuel, the same lack of conviction from the general population. No matter where she walked, suspicious eyes trailed after her. Children scattered like wildfire. They didn't hate her, per se, they just didn't trust her. She was an outsider.
Oddly enough, the only noteworthy change to her life in recent weeks was the development of her already bizarre dynamic with Phantom. Glances were now frequently swapped between them, and at the strangest of times, too.
It happened during dinner, when she was out in town, even as they passed each other in the hallways. Their eyes would catch, and then flit away. There were times when Sam would be randomly compelled to look somewhere, only to find him watching her, and vice versa. It had started after their conversation in Sam's designated room, nearly a month ago now, when he'd first told her about the starry illusion. And yet, aside from the socially obligatory small talk at dinner every night, they hadn't actually spoken to each other since. It was weird.
Sam jumped when the icy wall separating her from freedom began disintegrating with a hiss, revealing a disheartened-looking Tsuel. Sam's stomach rumbled again. Finally.
"Hey," she called, jumping with eager haste from her cot to meet Tsuel at the entryway. Her pace slowed when she noticed the yeti's grim expression. "Everything alright?"
Tsuel attempted to smile only for it to fall flat. "Hello, Sam dear. I am sorry it took me so long to come to you. This morning was rather"—her expression darkened—"unpleasant."
Sam frowned. The two of them began walking in their usual destination, towards the kitchen. Their footsteps echoed along the winding corridors.
"Are you . . . okay?" Sam asked, hesitating only slightly. "I mean, you don't have to tell me anything, but—"
"I just don't understand it!" Tsuel barked, and her clawed hands splayed high as she walked. "Why can't they leave us alone?!" A humorless laugh bubbled up from her chest. "I am so tired, Sam, so tired. I am not sure I can take this any longer. I can't!"
Sam's jaw worked wordlessly. She had no idea what to say. The Warrior in her demanded she make use of the yeti's turmoil and snatch what information she could, but . . . Sam just couldn't bring herself to do it. Not anymore. The last thing she wanted was to upset her friend any more than she already was. She instead reached out her hand and placed it on Tsuel's silky shoulder, consoling her.
Tsuel leaned into Sam's touch, and a large, warm paw enveloped her hand. "Thank you, dear," Tsuel said. "I am sorry to encumbrance you with my troubles. You are good cub." Her muzzle curved and softened at the corners. It was the first real smile Sam had seen from her yet. "I wish the others could see you as I have."
Sam's eyes widened at the unexpected praise. She flushed, unsure of what to say. If it was one thing that made her uncomfortable it was a compliment.
Fortunately for her, they had reached their destination so she was saved from the perils of an eloquent response. She ducked inside the kitchen while Tsuel continued further on towards Frostbite's study, just a little ways down the corridor.
The sight Sam faced upon entering stopped her dead in her tracks.
His back was to her, lean muscles straining through his white tunic as he reached high for something on the shelves. But Sam's eyes were not on his form, but the glaring green marks that stained his tattered clothing. Where the loose sleeve of his reaching arm plunged, she could see angry marks on his forearm. An even more daunting series of wounds lacerated across his back, visible through the shredded material. Multiple droplets of ectoplasm shimmered along the floor.
She knew that he sensed her presence, because she watched as he went rigid and then slowly turned to meet her wide-eyed stare.
"What happened to you?" she whispered, unmoving in the entryway. One arm was poised at the threshold, a foot extended in mid-step. She had no idea what to do.
The tension was almost palpable while Phantom stared back at her, seemingly frozen to the spot. She took advantage of his state and allowed her eyes to roam once more. He looked like absolute hell; cut up and bruised, ectoplasmic stains marring his clothing. His eyes were haunted.
Finally, Phantom seemed to notice that she was blatantly staring at him, awaiting his response. Green eyes narrowed as he turned away from her. "Go away, Sam. I'm not in the mood to be ridiculed by you right now."
She was affronted. "Who said I'm here to ridicule you?"
"Oh I don't know," he muttered. "Past experience, maybe?"
Sam's white hot temper spiked. How dare he speak to her like that when she was only acting concerned! She stepped angrily into the room, ready to unleash a vicious bout of verbal lashing when something stopped her dead. The balled fist she didn't know she'd made fell limp at her side.
Phantom was hurt, badly. He leaned his weight on shaking arms against the countertop, the empty cup from the shelf unused and clenched tight in his hand. Green ectoplasm pooled beneath his bare forearm, dark and congealing as its tendrils seeped along the counter, to the edge, and dripped to the floor. She could see how tensed his jaw was from the gritting of his teeth.
Without even realizing what she was doing, Sam stepped further into the kitchen, leaving her anger to simmer in a shroud behind her. She'd sworn him as her enemy, yet some unseen force propelled her forward anyway, and despite her rough exterior, Sam was compassionate at heart. This glowing, green-eyed creature before her was a creature in pain. She thought nothing of his ghostliness as she made her way towards him and placed a gentle hand on his arm, tugged it closer for her inspection.
Phantom's firm arm lurched in her hand as he jumped, surprised by the contact. But Sam barely noticed. With a light touch, her fingers drifted along the lines of sinewy muscle in survey of his injuries. His skin was cold and pliable beneath her fingertips, and she paused at the shadowed crook of his arm where the faint thrumming of his ghostly core trembled with life. Everywhere she looked, she saw what appeared to be bite wounds; they peppered his arm and tore angrily at his flesh.
For some reason, she thought he'd be colder than he actually was, that his skin wouldn't be so stable, so real, so human. He didn't feel like a ghost at all.
It was when Sam's wandering fingers trailed into the greenness of ectoplasm that she realized what was happening. She was touching him. Willingly touching him. Her hands dropped from his arm as if it burned her, when in reality it had done anything but. When had they gotten so close? She didn't remember. Realization shuddered in the pit of her stomach, causing her to take several quick steps away from him with her heart thundering in her chest.
Phantom's arm remained suspended in midair as if she was still holding it. He stared at her, utterly bewildered.
Sam didn't know what to say to him. She remained shock still, ignoring the heat that darkened her cheeks and burned her ears. Why had she done that? He was a ghost—her enemy.Her fingers curled, nails digging into her palms. She realized with distaste that they were slightly slick. With ectoplasm. Phantom's ectoplasm.
God, could she be anymore embarrassed?
"I . . . uh," Phantom began. He lowered his arm. "Why did—"
"Oh my stars!" Tsuel exclaimed out of nowhere, startling them both as she barreled past, brushing shoulders and, unbeknownst to her, pushing Sam aside in the process. "Danny, what in the name of all things Ancient are you doing in here! I thought I told you to see Sleetjaw right away!" Her paws fluttered, afraid to touch him. She settled for looping her thick arm around his shoulders in order to pull him roughly to her side.
Phantom's voice was muffled by Tsuel's fur as he mumbled, "Mff-fine, Tsuel, jus' ffirsty."
"No, you're not, Danny!" Tsuel was hysterical now. "Come one, we are going to Sleetjaw post haste!" She dragged him hastily out the door while unintelligible curses flowed from her grimaced maw. The small cup Phantom had been holding fell from his hand and clattered as it hit the floor.
Sam, with her back pressed against the adjacent counter, watched the chaos incredulously.
Only once they disappeared and sweet silence resumed, did Sam move from her perch, retrieving the cup from where it laid forgotten on the floor. The action was clumsy, a result of too much adrenaline bleeding into her nerves and settling there. She struggled, dropping the cup several times before seizing it with angry fingers. She couldn't make sense of herself. Why was she like this? And more importantly, why had she waltzed in and touched him like that? It was absurd!
Shaking her head, she admired the polished surface of the cup in her hand, and as she did an idea struck her. With eyes narrowed in thought, she went to the kitchen's chilled water basin and dunked the cup into the cool liquid to fill it. Then, after mindfully stepping over Phantom's trail of ectoplasm, she made her way to the medical bay.
.
.
Sam paused when she reached the aforementioned corridor, watching as shadows danced along with rainbows from an entryway further down. Muffled, argumentative voices emanated out into the hall. They abruptly ceased as she approached.
All was quiet, then: "Sam?" Frostbite's voice. "Is that you?"
Cold water sloshed over her hand, and her grip imperceptibly tightened on the cup she carried. She plastered on her most sheepish of smiles and ducked her head around the archway. "Yeah, it's me. Um." She stepped hesitantly into the medical room, raising the cup of water high for all to see. "I just brought Phhh—Danny—some water."
Seven pairs of eyes stared back at her. Frostbite and a ragged looking Elle were slumped on a bench; Frostbite's paw rhythmically stroked the top of his daughter's head. A gnarled and bloodied Icefang hovered close at Sam's left with eyes that seemed to bleed with mistrust, and so he scowled at her. Frostbreath stood by Tsuel, who was watching Sam with amber-eyed curiosity. Sleetjaw was busy healing Phantom . . .
Sam suddenly blanched. Where the hell was Phantom's shirt?
Had she been thinking rationally, she would have realized that wearing such clothing would be impractical for healing purposes. But Sam was feeling anything but rational at the moment as her eyes trailed along the scarred, yet muscular planes of his chest, and for what seemed like the millionth time that day, her cheeks flamed red. She averted her eyes and coughed as she crossed the invisible barrier into the room and offered the cup to an equally discomfited Phantom.
"Um, thanks, Sam," he mumbled, then winced as Sleetjaw's claws worked at an unseen injury on his back. "Ow!"
Sam's brows furrowed as she watched Sleetjaw work. He wielded a strange metal tool in his paw, but what it was though, she wasn't sure. It was oblong in shape, almost pencil-like, and metallurgical. With a turbulent hum, it welded together the massive wounds crisscrossing over Phantom's back, fusing the skin and leaving behind only faint, slightly puckered white scars. Sleetjaw skillfully maneuvered the thing with one paw, while his other paw dampened and cleaned residual ectoplasm away from the wounded areas.
"I thought you guys had healing powers?" Sam couldn't help but ask. She looked at the spot of her arm where it had fractured, as if expecting to see similar blemishes. Her skin remained unmarred.
"Why would you assume that?" Sleetjaw responded absently, never once turning his gaze away from the task at hand.
Sam's memories flashed. Pain, and a frigid coldness that numbs her . . . vision swimming with darkness. Then she surges awake, sporting freshly healed injuries and a hazy incomprehension about what had transpired. Her mouth thinned into a frown as she recalled the feeling of cold energy in her chest, the numbness of her limbs. "Then what did you do to me?"
Sleetjaw's eyes remain unfixed from hers. "I put you to sleep. After that, I was able to heal you."
"Put me . . . to sleep?" She didn't know whether or not to be offended. What the hell did that even mean?
Behind her, Sam heard the telltale sound of bench legs scraping against stone as Frostbite stood. She turned to look at him, just as he began walking towards her.
"As I have been explaining to you, Sam," Frostbite said, halting at her side. "The yeti are known for our scientific achievements, especially in the medical field. We are manipulators of ice, not healers." As if to punctuate this point, he gestured with a sweep of his massive arm about the room, no doubt in regards to the various technological monitors that flashed from every direction.
Sleetjaw nodded his large, angular head, frowning as Phantom hissed and winced under his claws. "Frostbite its correct. What I did to you was dramatically decrease your body temperature to a hypothermic state, thereby decreasing your heart rate." Finally, his eyes flickered to hers in brief acknowledgement. "You were in a . . . temporary coma, as it were. Mandatory in order to fix you."
Sam's gaze flickered between them. Then she scrunched her eyes shut and shook her head. "I should probably be really, really pissed off by that right now, but quite frankly I don't care. It's whatever." She turned and looked directly at Frostbite. "What I really care about is what keeps attacking you guys like this?"
Sam's answer was silence. From all of them.
"Oh, come on!" Sam exclaimed. "Why does everything have to be such a big secret around here?! What do you think I'm going to do? Suddenly pledge my allegiance to Pariah Dark himself? Whore myself out to him? Even if I could, did you forget that I'm kinda stuck here?" Her teeth were nearly bared from her anger. She pointed accusingly at Frostbite. "I deserve to know. No, I demand it!"
"Mind your place, insolent brat!" Sleetjaw hissed. White fangs gleamed at her from the curling of his lip.
Unwilling to be intimidated him, Sam glared at him and snapped, "Oh stuff it, asshole."
She didn't even flinch when he snarled in response and lunged at her.
Tsuel was in front of Sam in a blur of white with her massive canines flashing and ears pinned flat to her skull. Vehement growls ripped from her chest as she challenged Icefang, whom slid to a sudden stop to avoid impact with the smaller yeti.
"Alright, enough!" Frostbite boomed. He shoved a muscular arm into Icefang's chest, forcing the brute backwards and to his knees. Then, with a blood red glower that was purely alpha, he stared Icefang down until the latter shamefully averted his gaze.
Once the snarling ceased and Tsuel relaxed from her stance in front of Sam, Frostbite calmed himself by closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his muzzle with his claws. "I feel as if I am constantly dealing with children," he grumbled. He took a massive breath before his eyes finally opened and focused on Sam. Placing a paw on her shoulder, he said, "I understand why you want to be involved in our affairs, Sam, but now is not the ti—"
"Just tell her," Phantom said suddenly, surprising everyone. He shook his head and sipped at his water.
Frostbite looked at Phantom, mildly annoyed by his son's outburst. "It is not ethical to involve non—"
"If she's living here, she should know. It's not like it's really that big of a secret."
"I agree with Danny, Frostbite," Tsuel said. "Sam is as big a part of this now as we are, maybe even more so. She needs to know what threatens both our worlds. Please, Frostbite."
There was an intense bout of silence as all eyes remained focused on Frostbite. Wisps of frozen air trailed along his muzzle as he sighed in thought, meeting the eyes of everyone in the room, before settling on Sam's. Blood red mingled with lavender. Then he said, "Fine."
"You can't be serious, Frostbite," Icefang growled. "She is not one of us." He gestured a bloody paw towards Sam. "She is human."
Sam glared at him. "What is your problem with me? I've done nothing to you!"
"Nothing?" Icefang laughed. "Nothing! It was humans who stated this war in the first place!" His voice rose in anger, bellowed so loud that Sam flinched the sheer force of it. "I have lost everything!"
For the first time, Sam was able to past the veil of Icefang's hatred. She saw in him what she could never have seen before now as it bled from the deepest recesses of his character. Her eyes widened again as she noticed the incandescent tears that clumped the fur around his eyes, glistening as they froze to his cheeks. His whole body seemed to slump forward as emotional turmoil ravaged him mad. Sam couldn't believe it. He had always seemed so angry, so single-minded before, but now . . .?
Icefang's glassy-eyed gaze landed on Sam like a bag of bricks. His voice broke as he said, "I lost my family to this war. My mate, my cub, everything. Because of humans. I can never forget that." His eyes solidified into a revised anger as they flicked to Frostbite, large paws curling into tight fists at his sides. "And you." Spittle flew from between his teeth in a hiss. "Have you forgotten what they have done to your own daughter?"
Tension as thick as smog settled over the room. Sam's gaze was drawn to Danielle, who stood abruptly from her seat with her hands cupped around her neck. Tsuel reacted immediately, enveloping the girl in her arms while her eyes glared daggers at Icefang.
"I think it would be best if you took the rest of the day off," Frostbite said with a deadly calmness. "You know more than anyone why we do not bring that up."
"Why not? If you tell the human one of your secrets, you may as well tell it a—!"
"GET OUT!" Frostbite charged with his jaws snapping. He chased Icefang out of the room and then stood with hackles raised at the entryway until the other beast was long gone from the corridor. All the while, light, breathy sobs whispered from the fur of Tsuel's chest, right where her arms enfolded around Elle.
Sam watched Tsuel rub consoling circles into Elle's back, whispering gentle nothings into her hair. Suddenly uncomfortable, Sam's eyes trailed and landed on the widened green gaze of Phantom. He shook his head at her before slipping his ruined shirt over his head.
"I had no idea . . .," Sam murmured. Dark flyaways of hair danced along the edges of her vision and she swatted them away. "So that's why he's so . . ."
"Icefang is a good yeti," Frostbite said without turning around. "But he has experienced great pain, as have many of us." He looked at her over his shoulder, his expression grim. With a flash of his icy arm, he beckoned her forward. "Come, it is time for us to speak openly with one and other, but I do not wish to have this conversation here."
With one last look at Tsuel and Elle, as well as an acknowledging nod to Frostbtreath, Sam followed Frostbite out of the room.
"Hold on," a voice behind her said. Sam looked over her shoulder to see Phantom sliding off of the medical table. "I'm coming too."
.
.
The room was still cold, just beginning to warm with the popping and crackling of fire. Sam leaned into the warmth, unable to resist basking in it as it restored feeling to her chilled skin. Across from her, Phantom's elbows were on his knees in a chair next to his gargantuan father, face buried in gloved hands. Sam couldn't help but notice the dark shadows that danced along the planes of his cheeks, the light of orange flames intermingled with the whites of his hair. His ghostly aura appeared subdued in contrast to the fire, and it made him seem all the more human. She realized with a start that he looked good in firelight.
More than a little disturbed, Sam just as quickly shook those thoughts away.
She redirected her gaze to Frostbite. "Did humans really start the war?"
Frostbite's eyes flashed closed as he inhaled a deep breath of air. "No," he said, "the yeti are as much a fault of this as humans are. All of the Infinite Realms, in fact, are to blame."
Sam's brows pinched. "What does that mean?"
"I did not wish to have this conversation so prematurely, as you have much to learn yet about the way our world functions," he said. Sam watched in amazement as he conjured a sphere of cold blue energy at the tips of his claws, undulating and spinning along the contours of his icy paw. "Our world is a matrix of alternate dimensions and realities, each more strange and different than the last. We share a quan—"
"A quantum mechanical link that influences the evolution of the Multiverse," Sam stated, her voice monotone. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get that. But what does that mean?"
"Ah, so you do listen." Frostbite smiled.
Just then, the rippling sphere in Frostbite's paw swelled. Cerulean tendrils curled away from the center, twisted high to form intricate shapes that branched off in various directions. The energy crawled in ascent until it formed a full circle around the glowing center, then solidified into ice. The whole thing remained suspended in midair around Frostbite's paw due to the raw energy still surging within its center, almost like a beating heart.
It was beautiful; a work of art, really. Sam's fingers twitched in her lap. She resisted the urge to reach out and touch the gleaming arcs of ice. Even Phantom's eyes peeked over his barrier of hands, equally entranced by his father's work. Their eyes flicked, drawn together for only an instant, but it was long enough for him to see her slight smile.
"It's a bit rudimentary, but this is the diagram of the Multiverse," Frostbite said. He lifted his paw higher so light from the center refracted along each icy tendril. The entire room danced with pools of white and blue. With his free paw, he pointed to the bright blue-white center. "This, Sam, is your realm, the material world. It is what stabilizes the entire Multiverse, maintains our dynamic equilibrium."
Then Frostbite's pointer paw drifted to the outermost layer, a thick band of swirls and shapes. Sam noticed then that it was this layer that lacked any sort of conformity. It was the most random, chaotic almost, considering the elegance and uniformity of the others. It was also the largest. "And this," Frostbite continued, "is the realm of the spirits, the dead, the—"
"Ghosts," Sam finished, her voice a mere whisper.
"Yes, the ghosts," Frostbite agreed. "Energy is constantly being recycled back and forth between each of our realms, and the Outerlands, where the ghosts live. Ghosts themselves are merely manifestations of intense emotion and reminiscence . . ."
At this, Sam couldn't resist glancing at Phantom. At the same time, his eyes met hers. He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking because he abruptly straightened in his chair and glared at her, a single white brow arched in challenge. The snowy glow of his aura appeared to flicker as he crossed his arms. He was daring her—daring her to ask that question floating dangerously at her lips.
" . . .sometimes, some of that energy is strong enough to form the necessary synapses to create synthetic bodies, which are in this case made out of pure ectoplasm. The stabilization comes from the strength of will and emotional or materialistic obsession needed to . . ."
She wanted to ask. Oh, how she wanted to. But Sam was smart, and she now knew better. Her gaze once again edged away from Frostbite, and met Phantom's. The firelight danced along his cheeks and left dark shadows in the hollows around his eyes. For the first time since waking up in this world of ice, Sam was seeing the Phantom she'd met those long few months ago. Phantom, the reclusive, dangerous ghost who before Sam's encounter had never been seen up close.
"Sam, are you listening?"
Sam jumped at the sound of her name. "Huh, what?"
Frostbite huffed and narrowed his eyes at her. One of them even twitched.
"I'm sorry, Frostbite," Sam said. She tried to her best to ignore Phantom's unceasing gaze from her peripheral, but for some reason, his blurred sideways form was the only thing her mind would focus on. "I'm just trying to figure out what this has to do with . . . the attacks."
Frostbite frowned as his icy diagram disintegrated into the energy still swirling in his palm, and then fizzled out completely. "You remind me of my children," he grumbled, though he placed an arm fondly around Phantom's shoulders. "Always wanting to know the answers, never the roads between."
Phantom grimaced and shrugged the yeti's arm free. "Dad," he whined, "quit it."
The yeti's characteristic mirth returned as he smiled and laughed, revealing a wall of shiny white teeth.
"My father enjoys reveling in the emotional distress of others, didn't you know?" Phantom said dryly to Sam, his face deadpan. "Apparently it's funny."
"It is when it's you," Sam said without thinking, causing Frostbite to bark with laughter once again.
"I see how it is. Ganging up the ghost kid. Real mature."
"Hah," Sam laughed, "as if you're a kid."
It was the wrong thing to say. Sam realized it the moment the damning words sailed from her lips.
"Oh really," Phantom drawled. Sam watched in horror as something new and terrible glinted in his eyes, caused his grin to stretch at a single corner, leaving it lopsided. "What would you call me then?"
Not good, not good, not good. Was her face as red as it was burning?
Sam did the best thing she could think to do. She counterattacked.
"Oh, silly me," she said with a flippant wave of her hand, "I thought we were talking about mental capabilities, because if anything, you're more of a toddler. Never mind then."
It was a poorly disguised attempt to dig her way out of the proverbial hole she'd buried herself in, and she knew it. She knew he knew it too. He leaned back in his chair with that same absurd grin, brows drawn low while firelight played with the shadows across his face. Sam wanted to look away, but that would be letting him win. Her heart trilled nervously from her ribcage as she realized just how unfitting the term 'kid' really was in his regard. She remembered the feeling of lean muscles sprawling beneath her fingertips, and her hand began to tingle, just as it had done then.
The spell ended as Frostbite cleared his throat.
"I believe we may have strayed from our initial topic," he said. He looked between her and Phantom as if he could not understand what had just transpired. "Shall we resume?"
"Yes!" Sam's response was a little too quick and much too loud to be casual, and definitely way too high-pitched. She blushed harder and tried again. "Uh, yeah, that would be great."
Frostbite nodded. Then he told her the truth.
They were called miasmiors, a lethal subspecies of ghosts formed and controlled by The King. They seemed unimposing at first glance, but what they lacked in corporeality, they made up for in numbers and strength. Faint and translucent, their rippling bodies shared a subdivided core that constantly pulsated with the frequencies of their alpha, Pariah Dark. They were literally the formed artifacts his will, and fulfilled his bidding without an emotional restraint of any kind. Right now, they prowled the material world as well as several other dimensions, lurking in formless shadows and targeting prey.
Similar to ghosts, the miasmiors varied in class as some were formed differently than others. Some of them, the stronger ones, wielded a significantly denser ectoplasmic structure. Instead of the luminous wisps of their weaker brethren, they were solid and skeletal, their structure disturbingly similar to that of humans. Gnarled and twisted bones and skulls were accented by plates of shiny armor, all bearing the crest of their King.
And even stronger still, were the behemoths.
"They are the monsters of all monsters," Frostbite whispered in a voice that sent chills storming down Sam's spine. "Very rare, as they require great energy to form and control, but they are deadly. Their breaths bleed poison. Some are as big as mountains."
Sam was thankful for her empty stomach, because she doubted food would've withstood the churning.
Frostbite continued on about other terrible things as well. The Fright Night, the ghost from Sam's childhood, had once been a ghost of greatness, a challenger wanting to right the wrongs of The King. He'd failed, and now Pariah Dark animated the remnants of his tattered body, manipulated him like a marionette. The Fright Night became a symbol, one that screamed with the promise of death to all those whom dared to challenge his rule. And it had worked well, too, because the decimated remains of the rebellion had fizzled out into nothingness, never to be seen since.
What Sam had yet to understand was what Frostbite meant earlier, about the Infinite Realm's role in Dark's decent into madness. She asked him, and the yeti seemed to shrink before her eyes.
"For as long as I can remember, ghosts have always been misunderstood beings," be began, his voice thick. "The majority of Pariah Dark's story cannot be told by me, but by Great Elder, who resides along the high drifts of Cinomrah. What I can tell you is that through tragedy and mishap, Pariah Dark began his journey into kingship. It started in the human realm, as he had been the last of a now extinct species, and only went downwards from there. As I said, we are all to blame. The balance of our worlds is delicate and precarious, and currently we are drifting over the edge, straight into mayhem."
"So, what happens during the raids?" Sam asked. "You guys are being attacked by miasmiors?
"Yes," Frostbite replied. His usually cheerful face was drawn taut with the grimmest of lines. "They come in massive numbers and swarm us, straight through the rifts in the fabric of our dimension. We have yet to cover the physiological structure of the Multiverse, so I apologize if this is somewhat confusing. I have always been prideful of the Far Frozen being something of a stronghold, but the skeletal miasmiors are very powerful. We have trouble holding them back at times. With every raid they become stronger, more adept at combatting our defense."
"I'll say," Phantom muttered in agreement, flexing his hand into a fist as he spoke.
"So that's what happened to Icefang's family?" she asked. "They were murdered by them?"
Frostbite's expression darkened, red eyes glistening. "Yes," he said in a soft voice, "his mate and child were both murdered in a raid merely a couple moons ago. Their deaths are still very fresh in his heart. He will learn to accept and heal with time. He does not grieve alone, for we all have lost someone."
"Even you?"
"Even me." He looked down at his paws. Sam hadn't expected him to continue, so she was surprised when he added, "It was a long time ago now. I . . . I lost my mate, Artica . . . but not to miasmiors."
Sam's brows furrowed. "Then how did she . . .?"
Frostbite's voice was as cold as ice as he whispered, "Ghosts. She was murdered by ghosts."
.
.
Later that night, Sam laid her in bed, sprawled on her belly with her face cradled in folded arms. The room was warm and balmy on her bare shoulders, the white fur of her blanket kissing her skin. She watched the fire, content, yet utterly bored. She missed Tucker, Mr. and Mrs. Fenton, even her parents. Her eyes traced the curved masonry of the room, up into the blank expanse of her ceiling where an illusion of stars waited for darkness.
Knock, knock, knock.
The hell? Sam rolled to her back and sat up in confusion. Knocking. Someone was knocking on the divider between her room and the outside corridor? It was late, very late, so it couldn't possibly be Tsuel, could it? No, Tsuel never knocked, which meant . . .
With a groan, Sam pushed herself out of her bed and padded towards the entrance. Reaching the barrier, she splayed her hands against the ice and peered through the warped surface.
Ectolasmic green eyes stared back at her.
"Phantom?" Sam exclaimed, too surprised to remember sarcasm. "What are you doing here?"
The telltale hissing noise of mystical ice receding into nothingness greeted her ears. She took a big step back and crossed her arms self-consciously over her chest, wishing she was wearing more than her raggedy thin tank top.
"Uh, hey," Phantom greeted lamely. The last remnants of ice disappeared into the bluish glow stemming from his palm. He'd finally changed out of his shredded clothes and now wore a white coat similar to Sam's, though his lacked a hood. Instead a thick cloak was draped across his shoulders, cascading to the floor in a river of royal blue.
"Hey," Sam responded in the same drawl. "It's like midnight, what are you—?"
"Do you want to go outside with me?"
She glared. "You're asking me if I want to go outside with you? The hell kinda question is that?" Suddenly a new thought occurred to her and her nose wrinkled in disgust. "That better not be a euphemism for something, 'cause if it is, I swear I—"
"No, no!" Phantom nearly shouted with his gloved hands waving in bizarre, too quick motions. Green colored his cheeks. "That's not—no. Just no." Now that the freakish waving ceased, a hand flew to the back of his neck. He took a deep breath. "I am merely inquiring if you would like to go for a walk outside. The sky lights are on display tonight, and I don't think it's fair for you to be left in here alone, y'know? You can say no if you want."
Sam leaned against the archway of her room with her fingers tapping thoughtfully on her arm. She stared at him, noted the way he shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable and nervous as hell under her close scrutiny. She couldn't help but find that more than a little perplexing, considering how formidable he'd seemed earlier. How he could go from that to this was beyond her. He was intimidating and lethal one minute, then awkward and stumbling over his words the next.
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. "Do you have like, split personality disorder or something?"
Phantom blinked at her. "What?"
She shook her head at him, fingers still drumming along her forearm. She should say no, tell him off, then hightail to her bed where sleep awaited her. She should walk away right now. Walk away because Phantom was a ghost and ghosts were evil. She should also punch him right in the face, or his core because . . . because . . .
"Does Frostbite know you're here?"
"No . . .?"
Sam grinned wickedly. "I'll grab my coat."
A/N: And so, the plot thickens!
Oh my gosh, guys! It has been way too freaking long! You have no idea how LONG I have been staring at the half-completed version of this chapter. It just refused to be written! It's currently 3:30am and I have decided that I no longer give a shit. I'm done growling and swearing at this thing. I REALLY hope it isn't too much of a train wreck. I'm not gonna lie, I fangirled MAJORLY the whole damn time I was writing the arm touching thing. It was just so…forbidden…agh, I dunno. I really hope it has the same effect for you as it did for me! Their first bits of banter there had me smiling to myself the whole time, because that wasn't a planned component of this chapter. It just…happened. Sam also made me laugh at the end. She's such freaking rebel and I love her! (Remember, she's never been out in the Far Frozen after dark.)
There's still a lot more technical stuff to explain, but I figure I'll save that for later chapters. Small doses of technobabble work best accompanied by heaps of disguised flirting and sexual tension, right? Right? Seriously though, I am getting really excited. Two or so chapters from now and things will start to get realllllyyyyy interesting. ;) I CANNOT wait for them to happen myself!
And hey! I finally got myself a Tumblr. The link is in my profile. I have no idea how to use it so any help would be awesome!
Sleetjaw belongs to the amazing CaptainOzone. Read more of him in her story Shift! Seriously, do it!
-Roar
(OH! Also, just a heads up! I'm going to be doing another MAJOR update on older chapters. So far only Chapters One and Two have had the makeover. You should all check them out. There's a big difference! I'm going to do the others as soon as I find the right motivation. Three needs it BAAAAD. So yeah, keep an eye out for that!)