Anathema's Abode

Chapter 19

Flight

"General Phantom," the Ghost King's baritone voice rumbled, echoing in the vastness of his receiving chambers. "I trust that you are aware of why you are here?"

To his left, the Fright Knight smirked, shooting a satisfied look at Prince Aragon as the pair of warlords stood behind the Ghost King, surveying the Ghost General with identical self satisfied leers.

From his place on the ground where he knelt before the Ghost King, one knee upright and his right fist's knuckles touching the cold marble floor as protocol dictated, Phantom refused to appear repentant. Even if the pair of incompetent fools before him had managed to turn Pariah Dark against him, it no longer mattered. The Ghost King's favour no longer meant anything to him. Let them have their petty sabotage. He had come here for a reason, and he'd be damned if he didn't leave here fulfilling his objective.

Between them, the Ring of Rage glinted on Pariah Dark's fingers, cold and unforgiving in severe promise of what was to come.

He was a lot calmer than he thought that he would be, Phantom noted mildly in muted surprise. Perhaps he was less of a coward that he and Sam had always perceived himself to be. Either that or his fear was so great that his foolish body had no idea how to handle the emotions. Either way, it wasn't as though it mattered. How he felt was inconsequential. He had a duty to Sam to fulfill.

Or perhaps he knew that this was the only way to atone for all the evil that he had caused, for all the lives that he had taken in the Ghost King's name. Accepting this post at Pariah's right hand had turned Phantom into something that he was not, and in the grand scale of things, his life meant nothing when weighed against the hundreds, if not thousands of lives, both human and spectre alike that had been taken by him, both firsthand and under his orders. He couldn't bear to live with himself any longer if he just stood by and did nothing.

"Yes, my King," Phantom's gaze hardened in resolve. Whatever Pariah believed, it was he, not the white haired ghost, who was about to become the victim of ignorance. "I am fully aware of why I am here."

"A bold thing to admit," the King raised an eyebrow in question, subjecting Phantom to a harsh look. "So you concede warning the Brotherhood of our plans to invade," he queried coolly in veiled menace, as the blood froze in Phantom's veins. "Care to explain why?"

This was not what he had been expecting. Before the white haired ghost could stop himself, his neck snapped up, regarding Pariah Dark in actual fear as he knelt before him. There was no reason why his original plan wouldn't still work, but he would have to act far more swiftly than he had originally anticipated in order to escape here alive. "I assure you, my Lord," Phantom murmured. "My primary allegiance is still to the Empire."

"Be that as it may," a note of impatience entered the Ghost King's voice, much to his rival's glee. "You have still failed to answer the original question that I posed: What in hell's name were you doing consorting with the enemy?" Pariah snarled, sending Phantom's hackles on the rise.

"I assume that one of them had my chamber maid followed?" Phantom's voice was hard edged with frost as he subjected the other two warlords to a dirty look. "I suppose it cannot be put past them to scurry around, nosing into the business of others like rats."

"But my suspicions were correct, were they not, Lord General?" Aragon shot him a look of smugness.

"Hardly," the white haired ghost growled to hide his discomfort. He was running out of time and options. It had to be done, now. "If anything, I have ensured that the rebels will remain in Amity Park for the duration of the invasion."

"That is a tall claim," the severity of Pariah's gaze never waivered, but Phantom could tell that his curiosity was piqued. "And how do you claim to have done so?"

"It was relatively simple," Phantom allowed superciliousness to enter his features. "Humans are pigheaded and stubborn, and lack our intellect. By having a member of the enemy warn them of an upcoming invasion, they are persuaded to disbelief and more inclined to remain in Amity Park."

"Impossible," the Fright Knight snarled. "Phantom lies."

"Of course, the finesse of my implementations is lost on the dimwitted behind you, my King," Phantom drew himself up imperiously to meet his adversaries at eye level. "As I have previously stated, my primary loyalties lie with you, and you alone," he bowed low before stepping forward, kneeling once again by Pariah's feet, to kiss his Liege's ring as protocol also dictated.

"Very well," the Ghost King extended his ringed hand to Phantom, scrutinising his features. "You are free of my suspicion, for now."

"Thank you, my Liege," Phantom leaned downwards to press his lips against the large cracked stone ring in respect, making sure to keep his head down to hide the expression of pure terror on his face.

Before he could begin to regret his decision, Phantom opened his jaws, slamming his teeth shut over the Ghost King's index and middle fingers at the knuckle, and before any of the Midians present could react, he let loose a wail that would have shattered his own teeth had there not been a gap open due to Pariah's fingers. He could feel the cartilage in the King's fingers shudder and snap between his teeth at the force of the sonic blow shearing the elastic skin, as he locked his jaws around the fingers and wrenched them free from Pariah's hand.

Simultaneously, at the back of his consciousness, he heard the King roar more in surprise and rage than in pain as he fought to withdraw his fingers from between Phantom's teeth. The white haired ghost was also vaguely aware of several cruel blows landing on the side of his head as Pariah attempted to dislocate his jaw in order to get him to relinquish the Ring. Ironically, the Ghost King's attempts free his own hand aided the severance of his fingers before Phantom's head was dislocated from his shoulders at the sheer battering it had taken. Now, if only he could tell for certain that clattering in his mouth was that of the Ring of Rage, as opposed to the clattering of smashed teeth.

Not even daring spare himself the time to spit to clear his mouth of ectoplasm and blood, Phantom leapt into the air to attempt his escape of the Ghost King's wrath.

"After him," Pariah Dark snarled, pointing after Phantom with severed fingers that were already beginning to regenerate. "He is not to leave my holdings alive."

The Fright Knight did not need to be told twice, launching himself into the air after the white haired ghost in pursuit, hurling great plumes of billowing purple ectoplasmic energy at the defecting General.

Still reeling in his disbelief at what he had just accomplished, Phantom managed to stop all but one of the blasts that hit him squarely on his left shoulder, jerking his entire arm inwards towards his torso and shattering his clavicle. He lurched as the pain exploded through his form, leaving him spinning and vulnerable in the air, the Ring of Rage rattling horribly against the interior facets of his teeth.

"You will pay for your disloyalty, Phantom," the Fright Knight sneered as he approached for the killing blow, unsheathing his sword in bloodlust at having drawn first blood. "My King grants you a seat of honour at his right hand, and this is how you repay him?"

The white haired ghost desperately scanned his surroundings as he narrowly avoided the Fright Knight's wild swings. His shoulder would heal, but not fast enough to prevent encumbering his escape. To be perfectly honest, Phantom couldn't believe that he was still alive. A fact that he was certain was going to be rectified very shortly, unless he could spot where Aragon had gone. This was why he disliked airborne battles- he had to keep up his guard in three dimensions, as opposed to two. To his immense relief, Pariah Dark himself had yet to join the battle. Phantom might have been in possession of the Ring of Rage, but the Ghost King still didn't deemed him dangerous enough to finish the white haired ghost off himself, something that he was beyond grateful for.

Phantom growled. God, he wished that he had brought Arion with him; the destrier would have made for a far swifter getaway. But his mount was far safer where he was, with Ember. With luck the pair would be able to protect each other sufficiently in the event that they were discovered fleeing Phantom's holdings. Although with the commotion that his actions had just created, not to mention the huge expenditures of ectoplasmic energy sufficient for an engagement between three warlords, Phantom did not doubt that all the eyes of the Empire were currently on him. It was better this way; the white haired ghost gritted his teeth. Ember would have been unable to flee the Empire half as fast unless she took the destrier with her, and he wasn't about to hurt her chances of escape, when his own were already beyond slim.

To the former General's hurt and confusion, Ember had flat out refused to reveal to him where exactly she was going, despite his pleading. Her only promise had been that she would seek him out when the agents of the Empire grew sick of hunting them for the bounty on their heads, assuring him that there was no way that she would be unable to find him, and begged him to have faith in her. And despite his immense apprehension, Phantom had found himself unable to question her further. After all, she was fleeing for his sake, for his recklessness. Asking Ember to take Arion along with her for protection was the least that he could do. He only hoped that he would survive long enough to have the opportunity to see either of them again.

"I knew that you would defect, scum," the Fright Knight roar was triumphant, as he closed in for the kill, the Soul Shredder blazing with ectoplasmic energy loyal in his hand. "First, I will gladly destroy you. Then, I will destroy that traitorous little pyrokine that you keep so close by your side."

Phantom didn't bother wasting his breath with a retort as an icy, crystalline sword materialised in his grasps in a flash of white light. Ember was gone, and for once he had no reason to fear for her. The former General hastily parried his predecessor's strong blow, well aware that if he had been even an instant too late, the Fright Knight's blade would have struck true.

The force of countering the other ghost's attack shook Phantom's very bones to the core, eliciting fresh, raw waves of pain from his broken left shoulder. Wincing as shattered bone ground against bone, Phantom pressed his free left hand flat against the warlord's thick, burnished armor before the Fright Knight could react further, and released a massive blast of ectoplasmic energy, as powerful as he could manage, putting his all into it.

The Fright Knight's form went limp in surprise, slowing as his injuries began to take hold, a three inch deep, smoldering gouge appearing in the middle of his chest, exposing what remained of the Midian's charred, smashed ribcage, as bits of shattered armor and gouged flesh peppered the sky below them. Already turning, Phantom clenched his fist which still emitted dark tendrils of dense smoke from his attack, and continued his flight, planting his feet against his adversary's shoulders and kicking off as hard as he could to gain more momentum, leaving the other ghost to tumble gracelessly to the ground below. He had to keep moving- that wouldn't keep the Fright Knight down for long, and he still had no idea where Aragon was.

His pursuers might be under the impression that the total lack of a moon in the sky tonight meant that they were all at a mutual disadvantage, but Phantom knew otherwise- he and Ember had planned it so. His bizarre condition rendered him unaffected by the waxing and waning of the otherworldly entity that governed the powers of the other Midians, a fact that he was desperate to use to his benefit. With two against one- three, if Pariah finally deemed him a sufficiently large irritation to join the aerial mêlée, Phantom needed every advantage that he could manage.

Whilst attempting to take a deep, shaky breath through his lips, Phantom fought not to gag as ectoplasm spilled from the Ghost King's detached fingers trickled down his throat. It wasn't then until Phantom realised that the two fingers that he had torn off were still clenched in a vice-like grip between his teeth, the Ring of Rage sitting motionlessly in his mouth, pushed downwards against his tongue at the sheer velocity of his upward escape. The white haired ghost swore as he spat, albeit his violent obscenities came out as nothing more than a harsh gargle as he sent the pair of severed fingers tumbling below him as he gathered speed, noticing the dull glint of the Ring of Rage out of the corner of his eye as it spun and twisted in its descent.

Without a moment's hesitation, he followed it. If he were to relinquish the Ring to Pariah or the other two warlords, he and Ember, not to mention Amity Park, were doomed. His snatching at the Ring threw him off balance, causing him to revolve in mid-air as he narrowly avoided a spiraling stream of ectoplasmic inferno that emerged from Aragon's roaring, draconian mouth. The defecting General had been so preoccupied with his escape that he hadn't even realised that the Prince had used the Amulet of Chaos to transform himself. Throwing up a shield around his form, Phantom didn't dare slow for a second as he opened his right hand, hoping against hope that his rough fumbling had held true.

It had, and Phantom could have wept in relief.

"Seize him, fools," Pariah Dark roared, as he picked up speed, charging at Phantom as he himself finally joined the fray. "HE STILL HAS THE RING."

In an action that stemmed from the purest instinct, before good sense had the opportunity to prevail, Phantom slipped the Ring of Rage upon his index finger.

Everything seemed to freeze in an instant; his surroundings slowing to half time Phantom slid the powerful artifact firmly upon where the digit met his knuckle. Abruptly, he could see further than his previously already heightened senses had ever permitted him to see. He could make out and count the numerous murky veins spidering across the translucent membranes of Aragon's dark mauve wings as they beat to keep the stunned warlord in place in the air half a mile away. Out of nothing more than the corner of his eye, he could see the blackened remains of the Fright Knight's torso slowly begin to knit and repair itself as he lay on the distant ground below them.

And most prominently, he could capture and commit unwanted to his memory the motions of Pariah Dark's murderous expression as the he lunged at Phantom, his features consumed by rage, combined with a considerable tinge of fear as the Ghost King finally perceived him to be a very real threat.

And then, it was all the white haired ghost could do to keep himself from contorting in blissful ecstasy, as ectoplasmic energy erupted outwards from his form, cloaking him in its embrace. Almost lazily he dematerialised the ice sword that he had been clutching as though his life had previously depended on it, throwing up a shield around himself, as his other hand channeled a gargantuan blast of sheer energy at the Pariah, negating the Ghost King's equally impressive attack.

Not bad, Phantom raised an eyebrow. But he knew that he was capable of better, of more. He almost willed Pariah Dark to come at him with far more severe attacks, so that he could tap into his newfound strength, delve deeper into the ectoplasmic energy until he was so full of it that he could hold no more. The power- how had he spent his existence without it? With the Ring, it felt as though he could accomplish anything. He roared in triumph; the waves of reverberating sound energy surging towards Pariah in challenge, as Aragon was thrown backwards by the force of the blast which pierced and shredded the flimsy membranes of his wings, rendering the draconian Prince flightless.

The Ghost King grunted in irritation, cutting through Phantom's attack with a flick of his wrist. He ignored his liegeman that tumbled helplessly to the ground below, reverting to his humanoid form. Pariah's effortless defense against his bellow of defiance shook Phantom to soberness. He was still far from invincible- there was yet a disparity in their power. But with the Ring on Phantom's finger and Pariah losing the advantage of being able to use both artifacts together, the odds were stacked far more evenly in Phantom's favour. Still, it was three on one, and Pariah Dark alone was more than a match for him.

He had to get out of Pariah's holdings and bring the fight to deeper into the Ghost Zone if he were to have any chance of escape. Even if he were to take down the other two warlords again, staying put was far too dangerous. The last thing he needed was for his and Pariah's displays of power to send other warlords running to aid their liege's cause. He sped off and his former liege followed, losing the Fright Knight and Aragon as they fell behind, their injuries rendering them unable to keep up.

The former Lord General gritted his teeth in frustration- Pariah was catching up. And now that his original lapse of drunkenness at his newly acquired power had subsided, quiet despair once again slowly sunk in. If he was unable to find a way to escape this pursuit, he was going to be slain at the hands of Pariah Dark. Phantom wasn't a complete pessimist, but he still couldn't conceivably think of a worse way to end his existence.

But this was not the end; Phantom hissed. It couldn't be. He would survive this chase. He would survive to see Ember again. To see Sam- his spirits raised and swelled in response. He couldn't die now, not when he had finally given her reason to trust him.

"Give up, Phantom," the Ghost King howled in fury. "For run as you may, I will ensure that you spend the scant rest of your existence ensuring that you rue crossing me."

Phantom's throat was too dry to retort, it hurt when he swallowed. Yet all he was aware of was his adversary gradually closing the distance between them, until his once considerable lead was reduced to nothing. It was no use. Pariah was too fast, too powerful. His defiance here tonight would likely be his last stand.

Twin streams of crimson erupted violently from the Ghost King's eyes as Phantom dove to avoid them, narrowly escaping as the General's mantle on his back was reduced to nothing more than charred ribbons. He couldn't keep running much longer- Pariah had made sure of that. He was going to have to stand and fight.

"And to think that incompetent buffoon was right about you," the Ghost King's lips stretched into a feral grin. "Whoever would have thought?"

"In case it has escaped your notice, Pariah, I have your Ring," Phantom snarled. "You no longer hold any power over me."

"So you believe yourself to be my equal?" Pariah Dark was incredulous. "You will pay for your petulance," the King roared, as the very air surrounding them seemed to grow dense and crackle with red energy as he lunged towards Phantom, leaving the white haired ghost with no choice but to retaliate and meet the Midian head on.

Phantom gathered and drew all the ectoplasmic energy he knew that he could conceivably manage, leading with his uninjured right shoulder as he headed towards the clash, the white haired ghost's entire form blazing burnished green. The Ring of Rage had provided him with previously unattainable strength, he noted grimly, as he braced himself for impact. But judging from the formidable estrus at the Ghost King's command, it was not strength enough.

His teeth gritted in a wordless cry as he was smashed out of the air, crossing his forearms in front of his face as a protective shield surged around him, too weak and too late. Pariah Dark extended his hand, as the King crushed his freshly regenerated fingers into a fist, circumventing Phantom's fall as tendrils of blazing crimson wrapped themselves around the white haired ghost's neck, holding him levitated before the King, completely at Pariah's mercy.

Cursing, Phantom clawed at the spectral rings tightening around and burning his neck, hissing in pain as the red energy ate through his gauntlets, his charring fingers emitting heady wisps of smoke.

"You are a fool to defy me, Phantom," Pariah smirked. "A shame, really- you were the first competent General to serve under me for centuries."

"I want no further part in your madness," the white haired ghost's eyes and mouth blazed bright blue as the temperature around them dropped, as he attempted to negate the horrific burning energy strangling his neck.

The chill of his skin against the multiple blazing rings branding and squeezing against his neck only magnified the pain, as Phantom lurched forward in pain, tears streaking his face as his vision swam. He longed to be sick; and if the bile and recycled stomach acid could have conceivably found a way past the unyielding constriction in his oesophagus, Phantom was pretty certain that he had strength enough to throw up.

"Resistance is futile," a grin stretched across rows of the Ghost King's sharp teeth, as he extended his hand. "Now, give me the Ring."

Phantom's only reply was to spit in his former liege's face.

"You really should not have done that," the expression on Pariah Dark's face turned even uglier.

Abruptly, Phantom found himself thrown backwards by frosty ectoplasmic energy, not of his doing. He looked around in confusion, only to realise then that the icy attack had not been directed at him, but at Pariah, distracting the Ghost King sufficiently for him to release his hold on Phantom, as hot steam surrounded the cruel dictator's form at his negation of the glacial blast.

"Frostbite?" Phantom managed out in disbelief as he massaged his raw, skinless neck.

"Help me," the ice demon requested pointedly, his form blazing silvery blue as he began to encase the pair of them deep within a fortress of ice crystals.

Having been left with no choice other than to comply, the defecting General obeyed, aiding his sudden ally in thickening the frosty defenses surrounding them, engulfing them in an eerie, otherworldly silence, concealed from the world outside.

"What are you doing?" the white haired ghost sputtered out, eyeing the other ghost incredulously.

"Aiding your cause," Frostbite replied shortly, eyeing Phantom's left hand. "Judging from the vast increases in your power that you have freely advertised to the entire Empire in your battle, I take it you have the Ring of Rage?"

"You are correct," Phantom grunted as he turned his head towards his unbroken shoulder, spitting as he cleared his mouth of stale ectoplasmic blood which froze even before it hit the icy floor of their small, impromptu fort, the echoes of its clattering with filling their encasement with bizarre musicality that seemed far to whimsical for his current circumstances.

"A commendable act of bravery," the white beast paused, "although some may deem such an act as one of utter foolishness."

"I could say the same to you," Phantom retorted, "I had a hunch that you were the Princess' associate."

"Good, you are not without intelligence," his voice acquired an unexpectedly cheery edge. "Dora did indeed choose well. We would have aided you from the beginning, had you asked," Frostbite's expression was almost reproachful.

"It would have been unfair of me to ask you to throw your existences away for my cause," the white haired ghost snorted softly.

The pair's brief bout of civillised conversation was interrupted as shattered ice shaken loose from the interior of their icy fort rained down upon them from all angles, as Phantom hissed and willed himself intangible before their own defenses skewed them to death.

"It won't be long before he breaks through our shield. And once he does, you need to run," the ice beast commanded roughly, flickering back into tangibility. "I'll hold him off until you can make your escape."

"Are you insane?" Phantom growled in reply. "You are no match for him!"

"Neither are you," Frostbite's grin was determined. "But it is not my intention to defeat him."

It took no more than an instant for Phantom to realise exactly what the other ghost intended to do, as the former General felt himself filled with icy chills that had nothing to do with the sub zero temperatures of their surroundings.

"Let me," the white haired ghost demanded. "Your people need you. I have no such responsibilities to undertake. You take the Ring and run," he insisted fiercely, "I will hold Pariah off. And if it is as you said- if every entity in the Ghost Zone is aware of the battle taking place, it will not be long until the other warlords come to Pariah's aid. I cannot stand by and watch you doom yourself."

"Dora will see to matters for me. We have long arranged an agreement in the event of such unfortunate circumstances," Frostbite appeared resigned. "And even if I were to take the Ring and flee, I lack sufficient strength to defend it. Now, go," the ice beast rumbled. "Leave me to take care of this. Just see to it that the Ring never again falls into Pariah's hands."

"But I never agreed to your offer of allegiance," Phantom provided fiercely. "You are under no obligation to-"

The white haired ghost was cut off as the Ghost King's fist smashed clean through the layers of ice cloistering them off from the outside world, his roar of accomplishment rupturing the previously tranquil silence of their frosty microcosm.

"He's broken through," Frostbite hissed through his great teeth, and in a moment of desperate introspection, Phantom was abruptly made aware that it was more than bestial appearances that made a monster, contrasting Frostbite's beastly appearance with the Ghost King's humanoid form.

Leaving the remains of their icy defenses behind them, the allies fled, invisible and intangible as they willed themselves to place as much distance between them and Pariah before he noticed that they had abandoned their fort.

"I have believed you to be many things, Phantom," Frostbite placed a hand of mordent camaraderie on the defecting General's shoulder, "and I am glad that Dorethea's judgment of your character hasn't proved faulty. But you are being foolhardy," his expression turned dark. "You need to escape now, or my sacrifice will be for nothing."

"I will not forget this, Frostbite," the white haired ghost vowed vehemently, as the other ghost flickered into existence. "Regardless of what happens, I will ensure that my debt to your people is repaid."

"I am glad to hear it," the ice beast's smile was warm.

Reluctantly, the defecting General turned his back on his new ally and fled to place the largest possible distance between himself and Pariah Dark before the Ghost King could realise that he was gone, seeking the safest place to set up a portal for himself to flee the Ghost Zone and enter the human realm as a free man for the first time in four months.

I will not allow your sacrifice to be for naught, Frostbite, the white haired ghost gritted his teeth, determination fired by guilt and grief setting in as he hurtled with breakneck speed towards the human realm, towards the owner of the pair accusing lavender eyes at had branded themselves forever into his mind.

Towards Amity Park. Towards hope.

Author's Notes: And that is the end of Arc One! :D We're officially a third of the way there, woohoo! One thing that puzzled me is that quite a few of you labeled the previous chapter as a filler chapter, which frankly utterly baffled me. I, for one, thought that it showcased a rather pivotal moment in Phantom's life. Then again, hindsight is 20/20, and I have the advantage of knowing what comes next.

And if you're feeling nice, cross your fingers for me, I've been invited to a uni interview early next month! Anyway, I hope that you've enjoyed the chapter, hopefully the next update won't take quite as long! Reviews and concrit always appreciated, as usual. :)

Hugs and kisses,

Twisted