Anathema's Abode

Chapter 18

Change

Phantom hissed, seething as he materialised in his own private chambers in his castle, having teleported himself from Pariah's war chambers the instant that the meeting had been adjourned. The General didn't care that his chosen mode of exit probably came across to all who were present as excessively flashy- he just had to get out of there, out of the cloying presence of overambitious, underhanded warlords capable of anything just to improve their standings in Pariah Dark's eyes. He knew that he had already surpassed the limits of what he could take.

Despite himself, the Fright Knight and Prince Aragon's strange behavior had left Phantom feeling exceedingly unsettled. Dorethea had already informed him that his predecessor had told her brother that the reluctant General had been forcibly recruited. The pair was probably merely smug in the knowledge that they were capable of undermining his supposedly flawless reputation at the Ghost King's right hand.

The white haired ghost knew that that in itself ought not to bother him; he might not have been elected to the head of Pariah's troops for a sufficient length of time to be accepted in the Ghost King's court, but no peer of the realm could plausibly deny that he was very good at his job, and much more capable than his predecessor. Too good, Phantom flinched, despite himself. He already commanded the respect of the other warlords. There was very little at this point that his rival and his allies could do to undermine this.

Not for the first time since the night that he had been recruited into the Empire's services, Phantom seriously considered taking Ember and fleeing for their lives. Pariah's promise of pardons and safety was simply not worth the anguish and paranoia they had had to endure over the past months, and the guilt he bore over the countless lives that he had taken in the Ghost King's name.

Give it time, the rational part of his consciousness urged him. You've barely been here for four months. There is time yet. He crushed that thought mercilessly. There was no more time. Sam had been right all along; all that he had ever been good for was fleeing like a coward. That, and a never ending capacity for excuses. No matter how Ember had pleaded him to try his utmost to settle into his new existence at Pariah's right hand, they had always known that they wouldn't be able to keep this up forever. He had to get out.

What would Ember say if he told her? The General pinched the bridge of his nose in despair as he sank onto his bed. And more importantly- would he ever be able to live with himself whilst harboring the knowledge that he had condemned the rest of her existence to being hunted like an animal? They had been fugitives before, but the Ghost King had been satisfied to leave them mostly alone then, owing to the treaty he had made with the Fright Knight vowing that he would never impede the Empire's war efforts.

Now that they no longer had the luxury of anonymity, spending the rest of their existences in silent exile was simply impossible. Not only that- Phantom was well aware that he knew too much. Pariah would never allow Phantom to leave his service alive, carrying such extensive knowledge of the conditions of his armies, let alone the military plans that he himself had helped to formulate, such as the invasion leading up to the upcoming extermination of the Brotherhood.

Sam, her name was like a knife to the gut. In less than a month, she would be dead unless he could miraculously find another way around it. Sending Ember to warn her had been his final, desperate act. As the Lord General of Pariah's armies, he could do nothing more. And despite the fact that he knew that in the long run, her living or dying made no difference- Sam was, after all, human, and even if she were to survive, he would soon outlive her and spend the rest of his existence being hunted and in misery, all for his reckless actions involving one transient human girl. Providing that he survived defying Pariah Dark, of course.

Phantom's bitter laugh rang out strained and hollow in the vastness of his private chambers as he assessed the situation with the rare criticality of a mind long worn weary from emotional exertions.

She absolutely despised him. He knew nothing about her- and Sam even less about him, judging from her constant misconceptions regarding him. If he were to continue obeying Pariah, he would ensure his own safety, and more importantly, Ember's. They would never have to worry about fending for themselves, leading an elitist existence of sheer luxury. No matter how the circumstances were considered, attempting to save the Brotherhood girl would be nothing but absolute stupidity on his part. There was no merit in constantly struggling to save the life of an ungrateful rebel who wanted him slain by her hand. So why, then, did he want her so badly that it hurt?

He wanted… In actual fact, Phantom didn't have a damned clue what he wanted, except for Sam safe and at his side. What then? His voice of reason mocked. Sam washuman. Moreover, she was a member of the Brotherhood. Her life expectancy was even shorter than that of a typical citizen of the Empire. Even without Pariah hunting the Brotherhood down like vermin, she would be dead in five years- why not put her out of her misery? And most importantly, was he so deluded that to imagine that Sam would ever conceivably long for him in return? He, who had betrayed her in what she deemed was the worst way possible?

In the end, it all came down to weighing his fear of subjecting himself and his best friend to the Ghost King's wrath and the immense power that he wielded, against his fear of losing Sam. He was damned either way. The very thought of challenging the Ghost King filled him with fear so intense that it left him rigid and immobile, bile and recycled stomach acid heaving its way to the back of his throat amidst the tremors of his abject dread at his demise.

Phantom would freely admit that Pariah Dark's hold on him would not be half as terrifying if his liege did not possess the Ring of Rage and the Crown of Fire. The chances of successful resistance by those who opposed the King were beyond slim even without the magical artifacts to enhance his power. With the Ring and the Crown, the destruction that his Lord and master could wreak was beyond even Phantom's own imagination. His own substantial strength could not ever hope to hold a candle to that of Pariah Dark's. His previous analogy still held true; comparing their strengths was like comparing a matchstick to the intensity of a blazing forest fire.

Despite the Ghost King favour towards the more barbaric, savage methods of warfare, Phantom would never forget- if only for an instant- that his liege was not without intelligence. Before Pariah had donned both the Ring and the Crown, there surely had to have been other ghosts, older spectres who would be capable of challenging the King, had Pariah not had them exterminated perhaps a thousand years ago. It had been his utter ruthlessness that had allowed him to gain control of both the Ghost Zone and the human realm before others of his power and caliber were capable of banding together in order to cease his efforts.

It was this same intelligence that the Ghost King still utilised in the present day to strike fear into the already hardened hearts of his subjects and those who served directly under him- the Crown of Fire to symbolise his rule, and the Ring of Rage, borne on his finger and blatantly displayed before the peers of the Empire as a constant reminder of what were to happen to those foolish enough to challenge him; two simple, material objects that denoted his complete control over both worlds, sigils of his absolute power.

The white haired ghost groaned, burying his head in his hands as he collapsed backwards onto the black silken sheets. He needed Ember, wherever she was. She was probably out running an errand on his behalf, or trying to smuggle human food into the castle for him. Before being enlisted into Pariah's services, Phantom used to despise needing to consume human sustenance in order to survive, as it forcibly reminded him of the severe limitations and weaknesses of his other form, that he would never truly be a full spectre like his best friend.

Now human food, when Ember managed to get her hands on it, had become almost a luxury to him, an escape and a reminder that would never become his predecessor, even if he were to lose his way and aspire to do so. He wasn't even a full ghost, let alone the Midian that the Empire believed him to be, therefore he couldn't conceivably be as ruthless a tyrant as the former General had once been. It was tenuous logic, and deeply flawed in countless facets, yet Phantom still clung on to it with all his might. It was little things like this that helped him keep his grip on sanity.

As much as such little gestures that Ember took the effort to make to keep him sane meant, it was the least of what Phantom owed her in return. It was her doing that he was even alive today. He owed her everything, and yet there was so much that he didn't know about his best friend. The azure haired woman hardly spoke of her time as a human, and Phantom had never asked. It hadn't taken long for him to understand, despite his youth when he had first posed a question regarding her past to her, that it was a tender subject that Ember didn't like discussing.

But in moments of weakness, Phantom couldn't help but speculate, if only to himself, over what his best friend had been like whilst in the service of the Brotherhood. He suspected that he hadn't been much different, especially since Ember's sense of justice was less concrete than that of Sam's. He shrugged to himself. For all he knew, the grey areas in his best friend's occasionally frayed sense of morality could have been adopted only after her demise as a human. Not that he could ever blame her- Ember had been through enough, let alone on his account, for him to ever pass such judgment on her. He owed her this much at the very least.

The General sat up, pushing disheveled wisps of white hair out of his face. Where could he go to work matters out in his head and rationalise them before deciding to speak with his best friend? Somewhere that wasn't permeated with the stench of the Ghost King's power over him. The white haired ghost's brow furrowed in thought. God, did he need to work this all out in his head before deciding whether or not to approach his best friend and beg her to allow him to take the coward's way out and flee.

Phantom bit his lip and frowned. He supposed that he could always make his way down to his stables and tend to Arion. The gargantuan warhorse might not be the best listener at his disposal, but voicing his thoughts out loud to an animal, no matter how intelligent, would never lead to repercussions. Besides, the white haired ghost had always found grooming Arion to be therapeutic.

Running a hand through his hair, he pushed himself to his feet, straightening his garments in an attempt to appear more presentable. Appearances were everything, or so Ember constantly reminded him. No matter how brief the period or how few other ghosts were to witness it, he could not afford to appear scruffy and unkempt, as though he was no more than an adolescent male. He reached for the General's mantle that he had haphazardly discarded nearby on his bureau, throwing it over his shoulders in a deft motion wrought from unwanted repetition.

The white haired ghost ignored the anxious starts of surprise as he threw open the doors to his chambers, walking briskly past the bowing and scraping servants who hurriedly scurried out of his way to avoid blocking his path. The General scowled as he navigated the dark granite corridors; no matter what he and Ember had initially hoped, he still did not want any of this. And now it seemed like he never would.

A maid approached him timidly, her lips already parted as though to ask him a question, when he silenced her with a single sharp look. He was in no mood to be simpered at and asked if the new tapestry in the banquet hall was to his liking. Phantom increased his gait, allowing her to fall behind in order to make a hasty retreat, as he exited the vast main building and entered the lower bailey, crossing the courtyard as he headed towards the stables.

"Hey buddy," Phantom greeted as he approached Arion's stall.

His dark steed ignored him grumpily, turning away from his master as he lowered his head to slurp noisily at the trough of oats before him.

"Had a bad day, boy?" the white haired ghost raised an eyebrow, subjecting the gargantuan warhorse's muscular neck to a few good natured smacks.

The destrier frisked and screeched, bellowing spews of deep red flames at Phantom in annoyance at the unwanted physical contact.

"Whoa," the General took a step back in alarm as the destrier reared onto his hind legs. His mount's impressive wingspan was thrust outwards in an attempt to intimidate, as straw, feed buckets, and all manner of objects were gusted away by the thunderous force of Arion unfurling his great, bat-like wings.

"You're a moody bastard, aren't you?" the General clicked his tongue in annoyance as he dropped the shield surrounding him. "I know that you haven't had much chance to get out recently, but really, there's no need for tantrums, Arion."

The beast snorted, pawing violently at the ground as the flames were parted and effortlessly dispersed by his master. The Ghost King's destriers were bred solely for power and aggression. Perhaps too well, in Phantom's opinion. He had grown rather fond of his own mount, despite Arion's occasional testy mood swings. He didn't blame the warhorse; not really. After all, he had been bred for bloodlust.

"Now, are you going to behave?" he shot his mount an amused glance, as Arion harrumphed in irritation. "I hope you're better behaved for the stable hands."

The dirty look the destrier shot him in return was answer enough.

"You really ought to try being less temperamental," Phantom admonished, as he scratched the warhorse's ears. "It's alright for me. You can bellow as much fire at me as you want, but you can't act like such a brat when others are tending to you. It's not like they can defend themselves."

Arion whickered contentedly, as he playfully head butted the white haired ghost.

"Careful," the warlord grunted, as he narrowly avoided having his hair singed by his steed's flaming mane. "I swear, sometimes you just don't realise how dangerous you are, buddy."

The petulant expression on Arion's face was so out of place with his fearsome appearance that Phantom couldn't help but chuckle as he reached for the hoof pick, squatting on the stall floor as he signaled for his mount to raise his foot. "I swear, you're just as bad as Ember is," he commented good naturedly, as he carefully removed dirt from the destrier's horned feet.

"L-lord General," the little stable hand stuttered surprise as he entered, his small hands laden with a fresh bucketful of oats for the beast.

"Evening, child," the General greeted softly, before returning his attention to picking Arion's hooves.

"Do our efforts at keeping your steed displease you to such an extent that you see fit to groom him yourself?" the stable master's apprentice queried faintly, as he set the bucket down outside Arion's stall.

"Not in the slightest," Phantom replied gently, rising to store the hoof pick. "A warlord's destrier is an integral part of his battles. I merely wished to spend more time with him."

"By tending to him yourself?" puzzlement was transparent on the stable boy's features. Phantom couldn't help but envy him. Such honesty was a luxury that the reluctant General could no longer afford. "Are my services no longer required?" the child bit his lips, hesitant.

"No," the white haired ghost sighed, stiffening as he noticed the fear that crept into the stable hand's eyes, "I mean no, I am not dispensing you from my service. You've given me no reason to."

"Did any of others?" the boy questioned softly, referring to the incident in which Phantom had dispensed half of the Fright Knight's previous servants upon inheriting his holdings.

"No," Phantom conceded reluctantly. There was no need to share his fear of espionage within his own walls with the boy. "But unlike my predecessor I am unaccustomed to such extensive luxury. Your job, however, is very important," he forced a grin upon his features. "Arion is my pride and joy. It is imperative that he is well tended to at all times, and you have done an admirable job of it thus far."

"It is my honour to serve you, my liege," the stable lad sank gratefully into a low bow, and Phantom had to fight the urge to reach out and ruffle his fluffy blonde hair.

"A brush, if you please," Phantom cleared his throat awkwardly, as the boy jumped at his request, immediately scurrying off to procure one.

"You ought to be nice to that one," the General chided, laying a hand on the warhorse's muzzle. "You could really hurt him when you're thrashing about. He's barely a tenth of your size."

"Here, Lord General," the stable lad squeaked on his return, handing the horse brush to his liege handle-first.

"My thanks," the white haired ghost responded, and Arion harrumphed contentedly as the first of the bristles met with the side of his head.

"May I watch you?" the child asked timidly.

Child? The white haired ghost snorted to himself. The boy gawking at him with such unreserved hero-worship was likely nearly five times his age. Phantom made a soft noise of assent, brushing gently in the direction of Arion's glossy black coat.

"If the Lord General doesn't mind me asking," the stable lad appeared truly hesitant, "where did the my Lord learn to care for Arion himself?"

"Right here," Phantom informed, as the child blinked in surprise. "I learned everything through observing you and the other stable hands."

"Surely, my Lord jests!" the little stable hand burst out in disbelief, forgetting his place.

"I am not jesting," Phantom shook his head. "It is a worthwhile skill to learn."

"Forgive my outburst, Lord General," the stable hand lowered his gaze.

"There's nothing to forgive," the white haired ghost waved the boy off, returning his attention to his mount, who whickered haughtily at being ignored.

Lost in the calming rhythm of his brush strokes, Phantom's thoughts turned to Princess Dorethea and her mysterious ally. Supposedly, organising his men and making preparations for the invasion would leave the General with no time to seek out new allies. So why did the Midianne choose to approach him now, of all times? Did she mean to extend to him a hand of alliance and friendship before he gave in to the bloodlust of the invasion that lay ahead? The white haired ghost nodded to himself in partial understanding. She feared the emergence of another Fright Knight. That was the most plausible explanation.

As for the identity of her ally, Phantom still had nothing more than a vague hunch. There were nearly a dozen warlords in Pariah's court, some of which most definitely would have motives against the Fright Knight, and would therefore turn to Phantom for support. Of those few, even fewer had intentions that were even halfway noble.

The General had suspected Frostbite the instant the ancient ice beast had been unable to hide the mournful expression that flickered briefly across his features when Phantom had seemingly ruthlessly laid out his plan to overrun the lands surrounding Amity Park, almost as though he was lamenting a fatal blunder in Dorethea's judgment of Phantom's character. Compelled to fight alongside Pariah Dark's armies, the ice ghost's normally peaceful, albeit uncommonly powerful people had been forced to battle the Ghost King's enemies to near extinction. Even the women were not spared; the children only long enough until they were deemed worthy for battle. It was common knowledge that merely hundreds of their once tranquil, populous nation remained.

Phantom exhaled slowly in understanding. It was no wonder that Dora and Frostbite had initially formed their original alliance, perhaps hundreds of years ago. The pair had done so out of fear for their own people's future. Phantom shifted, uncomfortable. The two Midians' motives were far too close to home for comfort. After all, what was he doing, other than struggling to protect the Brotherhood, and therefore the humans of Amity Park, for the sake of a single human girl?

There was no way the draconian Princess could have possibly known, despite her sharp judgment of his true character. And yet, the discomfort remained at the uncanny coincidence that no one could have ever foreseen- was he truly doomed to suffer as the Princess and Frostbite had suffered? He did not know if he possessed the strength that they did to endure.

The General growled at himself in annoyance, a low, soft rumble at the back of his throat. He was getting ahead of himself. Phantom had no idea if this ally that Dora had spoken of was even Frostbite in the first place. His mind was on overdrive from the horror of actually seriously considering defying the King. The white haired ghost was letting his imagination get the better of him, making him overanalysing everything. It was best if he thought upon other matters.

The ghost's advice to himself immediately prompted an image of Sam forming in his mind, her features livid and contorted with hate as she attacked him on the night that he had led the raid in Amity Park, debuting himself as the new General. He shook his head to clear it, as his wretched mind filled itself with images of Desiree's form shifting, as she adopted the guise of Sam, her body broken as she approached him in jerky, halting movements. Phantom inhaled sharply at the memory of her horrible, lifeless lavender gaze. He'd rather suffer through the sheer hatred in Sam's eyes that threatened to swallow him in misery than endure their staleness in death. No, he felt his heart wrenching. Think upon anything but that.

At any rate, this was an enquiry best saved for a later date. There was no reason to inform Dorethea or her ally of what he possibly planned to do next, for should he decide to do so, it would most likely be suicide. If the pair of them had managed to keep their heads down and out of the Empire's way for as long as they had, they certainly didn't need him to make their chances of surviving into the next century any less slim. Phantom would leave them out of his struggles. He had no business getting them involved, no matter if they held similar standings over the invasion as he did.

"Forgive me, my Lord, but are you happy?" the stable hand's meek question broke Phantom out of his reverie. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he had quite forgotten that the boy ghost was still present. "Here, in your castle?"

"Why do you ask that?" Phantom parried, more quickly and more sharply than he had originally intended, his eyes flaring burnished green at being caught off guard before he could stop himself. Arion, sensing his master's agitation, began to rear and snarl.

"No reason," the boy shrunk backwards in terror, a fear that Phantom had seen far too often etched on the faces of his predecessor's victims, a fear that the white haired ghost himself was now responsible for striking in the hearts of the innocent, "my humblest apologies, my Liege," he sank to the floor in a low grovel.

"I'm sorry," Phantom grimaced in apology, placating his warhorse, inwardly disturbed at how rapidly the savage aggression of his fellow warlords was being etched into his very bones. "I was just in deep thought. You merely startled me, that's all," the warlord inwardly winced as the stable hand flinched at the gauntlet-clad hand that the white haired ghost had extended to help him to his feet, before the boy's terrified expression was replaced with one of unreserved surprise at being offered Phantom's hand.

"I meant no disrespect, Lord General," he murmured, clambering to his feet. "It's just that when you were thinking to yourself, you looked so sad. I may be a simple stable boy, but I understand that serving at the King's right hand is just as much a burden as it is a great honour. Has our service provided you with cause to be unhappy?"

"No," the General forced a smile upon his features, succumbing to his previous urge to ruffle the child's hair. "I assure you, I am happy."

He needed to speak with Ember.

-

Author's notes: Sorry about the (relatively) long updating time! Initially, I had intended to cover more characters in this chapter, but it ended up being all about Phantom, not that I expect anyone will complain. ;) Writer's block and the lazy bug both decided to bite me at the same time, so apologies for that!

Hopefully now that the difficult bit is over and the plot is going to start picking up speed, the updates will start coming every other day again. As if this chapter wasn't clue enough, some pretty major plot changes are going to hit the AA characters pretty much immediately. But for better or for worse, I will say no more. :D

Feedback is always appreciated! :)

Hugs and kisses,

Twisted