Epilogue

Disclaimer: I own neither Danny Phantom nor Smallville

Ghost Writer smiled, cracking his fingers cheerfully over his silver keyboard. He identified himself as a bibliophile; he had for as long as he had existed. He loved stories and the written word, the way that the words shaped themselves together, spinning together into something that was so much more than the words it was made from. He loved the way a single word could change the essence of a story, the intricacies of language and the way the words played together. But most of all he loved the stories. A wise man once said that there is only one story, that it's only parts of it that often seem like stories in themselves, and Ghost Writer loved every bit of it.

It was rare for him to leave his Library, but then this was a rare opportunity, one where the story was literally writing itself around him and he was excited to have a chance to document it. Around him legends took their seats; the Leaders of the Thirteen realms all converging together in these ancient chambers for this one occasion, a meeting that would decide the future for the entire Ghost Zone. The thirteen Observant representatives came in; taking their place in the second row behind the Leaders of the thirteen, and a flood of anticipative energy filled the room.

'Writer beamed, typing quietly as he documented the scene. He was here in an official capacity as scribe, but in such a historic place as this, he couldn't help but let his own romantic tendencies run away with him a bit. At a glance the entire room seemed to be made of marble with Grecian columns encircling the centre council. But a deeper look betrayed the architecture as far older, older than anything on Earth, dating back to the very first ghosts that inhabited the Zone.

It was beautiful, and the bibliophile felt something in his core flutter happily at the opportunity to even get to see such a place. 'Writer grinned, taking an opportunity to take a look around the chamber at the assembled dignitaries. All looked regal in their own right, wearing power and authority in a way that was almost fathomless. He knew himself to be a fairly powerful ghost; his ability to warp reality with words was no mean feat. But in the presence of such potently dominating ghosts, even he felt dwarfed by their power.

The history of the Ghost Zone was a long and turbulent one, despite being an ageless society there were many prominent revolutions that marked each age. But through it all there was the Council of the Thirteen. In the beginning, representatives of the thirteen Realms had been appointed by the then Emperor Tzodar before he became corrupted by his power and was subsequently overthrown. Since then the council had always existed, either as the primary governing body or as a council to the Ghost Zone's reigning king.

The Thirteen represented each of the Ghost Zone's cores, and while the representative themselves often changed depending on politics, the positions always remained in the same balance. As a Magus core himself, he found himself more naturally drawn towards the representatives of those realms. The ghost Pandora was beautiful, garbed as a Grecian warrior princess, her purple hair rolled elegantly down her back; her skin was a soft shade of blue and her ceremonial spear rested gently in one of her four arms. The other representative was Nocturne, an ancient ghost whose entire countenance was a representation of the night sky of the Real World; his face was a cool shade of alabaster and his hair was concealed by a horned headdress that curled down into almost draconic purple points.

Of the Electora ghosts there were two representatives. The first was Raiden, who most closely resembled a wolf with bolts of electricity rippling through soft blue-grey fur; intelligent red eyes stared out at the room, indicating slight boredom as he sat back on his haunches. The second representative was Valda, a humanoid female ghost with green skin; she had long red hair and looked like a Viking with her brown leather skirt and metallic breastplate, and a quiver of arrows was slung over her back. The two of them murmured slightly to each other, seemingly arguing over something.

There had always been three Fire core representatives; the phoenix, the dragon and the salamander, each representing the three tribes that had first formed in the Zone. The phoenix present was Incendio, plumed with golden feathers that burned in a bright cascade down to his long plumed tail. Of the salamander there was Svarog, red scaled skin contrasted with long black tribal tattooing that all seemed to highlight his deeply burning green eyes as the lizard sat anthropomorphically up in his chair. The final representative was Dorathea, mercifully in her human form; the dragon ghost's blonde hair fell elegantly over her blue dress and her cherry eyes bespoke calmness despite the fact that 'Writer knew this was her first Council.

The bibliophile then turned his eyes to the two Earth cored ghosts. The first was Xylia, a Nymph with a close fitting green dress and bright emerald eyes, each framed by an ethereal deep green spiral. Her skin was a shade of green, so soft as to be almost white, which contrasted with the rich reddish brown of her flower woven hair. The dwarf, Terran, was the other representative, angry red eyes staring out of a heavily creased brow. He had bushy green hair that could almost be ablaze, which was only emphasised by his dark beard, barely concealing the way he was scowling as he absently fidgeted with the heavyset hammer in his calloused palms. Ghostwriter had always found it somewhat poetic that the two representatives each embraced the polar opposite aspects of Earth; the growing plants and the soil in which they grew.

The representatives of Air were two ghosts that Ghostwriter knew personally. Bowen, a male sylph was actually a surprising intellect and would stop by the Library from time to time. His hair was a surprising shade of white that fell in a thin curtain down to his waist; his skin was an enviable shade of porcelain that stretched all the way to his two pointed ears. Achlys on the other hand he wasn't so companionable with. The ebony haired fury had a particularly vengeful streak despite her flighty attitude, and had gotten on his bad side two decades before when she'd stormed his Library for what he saw as a minor offense. But there was no doubt she was beautiful, soft green eyes, her skin a vibrant shade of azure and wings of ethereal cloud that floated into wispy tips behind her back, framing her perfectly.

'Writer shook his head and turned his attention to the twelfth member of the council. Frostbite was well known, but rarely left the Ice Realms. The Far Frozen had always been the more private of people. But the yeti-like ghost sat tall and proud, a wide smile on his face as he picked a conversation with Valda. His white fur seemed bright in the room, but the soft smile in his blue eyes made him seem open and welcoming in a beguiling dissonance to what his outwardly ferocious appearance would portray. His booming laugh momentarily cut through the room, eliciting an infectious smile on 'Writer's face as he looked at the representative for the Ice cores.

A small shiver trembled down 'Writer's spine as his eyes fell on the final member of the council. Due to the nature of the Norma cored ghosts, there were few candidates who could fill the role as a representative; hardly any had the power to match the other representatives. However, the current representative was one 'Writer would prefer never to have seen again. Walker sat there, a slight smirk on his bleached face as he leaned backwards in his seat. His black rimmed Stetson was sitting over his eyes, hiding malicious green from view and somehow making the Warden ghost seem all the more malignant. His arms were currently crossed across his chest, bearing the illusion of casual disinterest, but the way the cane in his right hand twirled between lazy fingers suggested that the Warden was just observing.

Shaking his head clear, 'Writer set his fingers on his keyboard as the words practically wove themselves, a satiated smile pulling to his lips as he set the scene. Each of the representatives was power incarnate; the room was saturated with the pure majesty of its occupants, somehow eddying together with the physical presence of the ancient chamber to create an almost tangible vibration of sagacious ascendancy. And 'Writer could almost taste the silence when a red robed ghost entered the chamber.

A tense hush filled the room, each of the representatives' attention falling onto the new occupant. He was an ancient ghost, the chief custodian of the council chambers and had been an essential part of the council for as long as it had been. He was Speaker, he went by no other name and he saw no duty as more important. He was the one charged with keeping order, of initiating debates and ending frivolous ones. He was impartial, technically a Norma core, but tied to all Realms by his oath of neutrality and by his position.

'Writer watched as Speaker floated towards the centre of the room towards a marbleised dais, his green spectral tail fluttering purposefully beneath him. Red eyes looked out across the room, calling them all to order as his bronze staff rapped twice on the floor. "This session of the Council of the Thirteen is called to order." Speaker proclaimed, his deep baritone voice was rich and smooth, resonating through the council chamber with its steady presence. 'Writer's fingers cascaded across his keyboard, trying to capture every detail of the proceedings.

"The assembly is welcomed and the members are gathered." Speaker stated, his voice calm and steady as a deep river. "Each member will please introduce themself."

"Sheriff Walker." The skeletal ghost began, his low voice breaking the silence. "Representative of the Norma ghosts."

'Writer beamed, his fingers tapping across the keyboard as each identified themself, one by one, going around the room like a surging wave of vibrating vocalisation. Each voice bespoke power, ringing with an almost overpowering resonance that struck him to the core. He was almost sad as Frostbite introduced himself, his voice an arctic wind through the chamber.

"At this time" Speaker proclaimed, his staff thudding once more against the floor. "The council will discuss the subject of this meeting; the Halfa Daniel 'Danny' Phantom's ascension to the throne. Let it now be recorded that the Halfa's appointed guardian, the Lord Clockwork, is present on Phantom's behalf."

'Writer gulped, briefly looking up as his glasses slipped down his nose. He was nervous enough about his job today, but hearing who Phantom's guardian was made 'Writer tremble. He had known the young boy for over a year now, and would go so far as to call the boy a friend despite his infrequent visits. But he hadn't known Phantom was that well connected; yet he couldn't help but watch in stunned silence as the blue skinned Master of Time slipped into the room, looking somehow like he'd been there all along as he took a seat facing the Council. A short silence filled the room as everyone took a moment to acknowledge the most elusive and deified ghost in the whole Ghost Zone.

"Phantom is a menace!" Walker growled, breaking the silence and sending a hateful glare in Clockwork's direction. Like the trembling of a tuning fork the silence was broking and a tumultuous wave of conflict trembled through the chamber. "He's a no good punk with no respect for the rules. He should be locked in the Phantom Zone permanently, not made King."

"Walker," Frostbite admonished. "The Great One is a good soul, you cannot blame him for transgressing upon a rule he did not know existed."

"The Rules are the Rules for a reason." Raiden interjected hotly. "Do not forget the trauma we endured through the Magus Wars before they were enforced."

"Without the Rules there is chaos." Walker affirmed, tilting his hat upwards. "The punk doesn't know a thing about being a ghost, expecting him to be anything other than our enemy is laughable."

"And yet he's the only one of us who had the power to defeat Pariah Dark." Valda replied, her rich voice cutting through Walker's accented tone. "He has proved his worth as a warrior and a leader. He shows tremendous strength for one so young to our world."

"We have the power." Terran growled, swinging his hammer so it landed firmly in his hand. "So what if the Halfling got there first; the thirteen of us would have sealed Pariah again just like the Ancients did."

"The Crown of Fire fades." Bowen pointed out, his soft voice somehow silencing the developing argument. His white hair seemed to drift on an ethereal wind as he spoke."Even had we succeeded Pariah would still have been liege apparent. For too long we have been divided in chaos, as Pariah's crown now fades it is time now to choose a new ruler." Ghostwriter paused, looking up at the white haired ghost. All through the Zone people had felt that change, the twilit period of changing autumnal leaves. But hearing it spoken in Bowen's soft voice brought the change into sharper focus.

"And you're implying we should give the crown to Phantom?" Svarog retorted, his fiery tail flaring with a crimson glow. "That's a brilliant idea; just hand the throne over to the half breed who offed Pariah. No, I can't see any problems with that."

"Sarcasm doesn't become you, Svarog." Dorathea chastised, sending him a distasteful glare. "Sir Phantom is a noble sort; he fights with justice, not blind retribution."

"Ah, yes; 'Sir' Phantom." Walker drawled distastefully. "You play a cunning game, Princess. One would almost suspect you're vying for additional power in this council. After all, records state that Phantom; possessing an Ice core, is entirely outside of your jurisdiction."

"How dare you!" Dora screeched, sounding appalled. 'Writer pulled back as he saw the green pendant around her neck flare, her eyes becoming almost serpentine before Speaker's voice cut through the room.

"Order!" The red robed Speaker cried, his staff thudding against the floor with a sense of overpowering finality. "Members will move back to the topic at hand, any further quarrels are to be resolved outside of council time."

A brief silence echoed through the chamber, whispering through as Dora settled down in her seat and Walker resumed his casual position at the edge of the circle. "The issue we have to deal with is Phantom's candidacy as heir apparent." Achlys stated, her wings unsettled behind her back. "Regardless of his breeding, he is the one who defeated Pariah alone; he has earned the right to the title."

"Why is there need to let him claim it?" Nocturne asked, surprising all with his pensive voice. "The council has served in the millennia since Pariah's entrapment. Perhaps now there is no longer a need for such a monarch."

"It is not the way of our world." Bowen replied. "The council's function has only ever been to advise the monarch. We need the stability that a king provides; having the council as the head only polarises our peoples against each other. Having a single king again would provide unity that has been absent since before Pariah's reign.

"We could never be united under the half breed." Raiden growled, a cascade of sparks rippling through his coat. "A thing like him should never have existed in the first place. Already each of us have seen the movements to have the boy destroyed and I say let them. He's a disgusting perversion of all it means to be a ghost; giving him the throne will only lead to ruin."

"I move that the Halfling be rejected." Terran replied, quickly latching onto the Raijū's argument. "Find someone else for the job; I won't have a half human as my king."

"Come now, Terran." Xylia reproved, her voice sounding like a soft wind through leafy trees. "Phantom has proved to have our best interests in his core more than once. Don't let your own prejudices stand in the way of a just leader."

"What Phantom are you talking about?" Svarog retorted. "He's brought nothing but trouble with him; chaos follows the boy like a shadow. Let him be king and all we'll have left is rubble."

"The Great One has more than learned responsibility." Frostbite interjected. "Princess Dorathea has educated him in the ways of court and the duties entailed by his knighthood. In doing so she has taught him what is necessary in running a kingdom. The Great one is ready for this responsibility."

"Frostbite speaks well." Valda added. "Phantom came to us when his electrical powers first manifested. He has long since proved himself a worthy warrior, but he held himself to a high standard. He proved a dedicated pupil and pushed himself to ensure that none could be harmed unintentionally by his power."

"Such was true when the Great One first learned of his Ice Core." Frostbite added, the yeti's voice sounding fondly proud. "He also showed great distress for any who were harmed by his actions, even for people he has never met. He has proven who he is in his core; he left to face Pariah knowing the risks and yet never shied away from keeping all of us safe."

"True though that may be, that was two years ago." Incendio pointed out, ruffling his wings as he spoke for the first time. "Time for us is nearly meaningless, but to a human it can change everything. I am curious as to how much the past two years have changed him. Clockwork?"

Ghostwriter looked up as Clockwork drifted forwards, wearing majesty as easily as the cloak that billowed around him. A quiet hush washed over the room, each of the occupants stilling to observe the ancient ghost. Wise red eyes gazed back at them, and 'Writer caught a hint of a smile playing on his lips. It wasn't that Clockwork was smug or prideful, but he held an overpowering sense of self assurance that thrummed almost tangibly through the air.

"Phantom, indeed, has grown in character significantly since he vanquished Pariah Dark." Clockwork answered, bowing his head slightly in an acknowledging nod. "As is the case for all living beings, he has endured changes and faced trials that have further shaped him into the person he is today."

"He defeated Plasmius." Dorathea added with a soft smile on her face. "Instead of murdering Vladimir he removed his powers. He has learned that it takes more than just stopping an adversary to save people and has shown that it is not destruction that drives him."

"Indeed." Clockwork nodded, his ancient red eyes glimmering with pride. "Phantom has learned many hard lessons, including the value of offering a second chance. Since taking Phantom on as my charge I have imparted on him the histories and knowledge essential to our world; however it is his actions that speak most loudly for his character."

"The Great One shows great maturity and integrity in all he does." Frostbite agreed. "In the limited time I have known him personally he has surpassed all expectations. Given the great power he holds it would be easy for him to become corrupted, yet he holds true to all that he stands for."

"Given that he's a Protector by nature that hardly says anything." Terran groused, arms crossing across his chest. "It's like arguing rocks are hard because they're rocks."

"It is different though." Pandora replied. "And being reductionist gets us nowhere. Phantom, like all of us, has the choice of where to direct his obsession; simply being a Protector does not immediately ascertain that he will act in the defence of all. The fact that he has is demonstrative of his own morality if anything."

"Sir Phantom lived by the knight's code before he knew of it." Dorathea emphasised. "He has always leapt to the defence of those weaker than him, even at his own expense."

"Knights code?" Nocturne dismissed. "My dear lady your observations in that regard are based on happenstance, nothing more. Phantom operates under the delusion that the human world needs him as a 'hero'; it has nothing to do with honour or chivalry, but the foolish clinging to a childish ideal. Why should we crown a king who is nothing but a child himself?"

"Because he is no longer a child." Bowen replied. "One cannot experience all that he has without growing up. Even by our long standards he has endured far more than many of us and overcome everything. The argument of inexperience has no bearing on this decision, indeed to claim it is to ignore the very reason we are here."

'Writer blinked, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as the air filled with an expectant pause. He took a quick mental stock, thinking over all the arguments he'd heard. Walker's position was expected really, the Warden ghost had a grudge with Phantom a mile wide. And Terran's xenophobic objection to Phantom was unfortunate but unavoidable. 'Writer couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for the young ghost child at Raiden's violent revulsion, the halfa's humanity was what made him so unique, and as unavoidable as the fall of a tragic hero.

But he was heartened to hear the defences made of Phantom, after the whole Christmas Poem Incident, Phantom had come to him and apologised. More than that, he'd been shown a different side to the boy, and, adding that to the fact that many of his escapades made brilliant tales in themselves, they'd struck up enough of a friendship that 'Writer could see real value in having the boy as their king.

The way the council hung now though was completely undecided. Walker, Raiden, Terran, Svarog and Nocturne all seemed determinedly against Phantom. Equally, Frostbite, Xylia, Dorathea and Pandora were all encouraging Phantom's ascension. It was somewhat poetic that it was such an even divide, and as usual the Air cored ghosts were decidedly neutral, and Incendio had said nothing to suggest an opinion either way. It was like a set of scales delicately balanced, ready to topple at the slightest disturbance.

"Phantom's most recent trial has left him scarred." Xylia pointed out, her voice capturing the strange sadness of a yellowed leaf as it fell from its branch.

"Ah, yes. The punk's pet wolf." Walker smirked. "That rule breaker shouldn't be leaving your forests you know Xylia. You should be keeping him on a tighter leash."

"That is not the point, Walker, and you know it." Achlys interjected quickly. "Xylia, what news do the turning leaves bring?"

"Wulf recently returned from the Real World, bringing an almost... unbelievable tale." Xylia paused, her green eyes creased in a saddened frown, sinking in on herself like leaves in heavy rain. "Real World politics rarely have any sway on our world but in this instance..." She trailed off uselessly.

"In this instance the balance of both worlds was in the balance." Clockwork finished, his ancient voice startling for its steady depth. "This past year Phantom has taken residence with his surviving mortal family, including his adoptive cousin, Kal of the House of El."

'Writer felt his core flutter in disbelief. History said that Krypton had been destroyed, he'd felt the planet's end twenty years before, as had every other ghost existing at the time. Apparently the boy was better at keeping secrets than even 'Writer had imagined if he was living with a Kryptonian without letting it on. But then, it was also unsurprising, Warrior Angel was nothing without the mask of his alter ego Steven Swift, secrets were a natural consequence of maintaining a secret identity. And while distinctively not the same, Phantom was cut from a similar cloth to the comic book hero. Secrets and masked words were a necessary part of the boy's life.

The momentary din quietened down as Clockwork spoke again. "The wraith of Zod escaped the Phantom Zone, taking refuge in a human host as facilitated by the Brain Interactive Construct. In so doing Zod caused the collapse of the majority of the infrastructure of the Western World, culminating in Kal-El's incarceration in the Phantom Zone."

'Writer felt his glasses slip down in his startled disbelief, the Phantom Zone sent a tremor of dread to his core. Around the chamber a tense thrum of disbelief rolled, each of the Thirteen seemingly frozen in shock. The horrors of the Phantom Zone were known to all, it was almost inconceivable the endless punishment of the eternal prison. Worse was the notion of an innocent being sent there; damned evermore to the bleak cruelty of malicious desert sands.

"That explains why." Xylia murmured sadly, her hand pressed to her chest. "When Wulf last returned to the Woods he was almost exhausted with relief. He said that he had visited the Real World at the request of the young ghost Ember's request. The story he told was that Phantom had been sent to the Phantom Zone, martyring himself so that his cousin could escape and vanquish the foe in Zod."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me." Walker griped. "The punk has never had any respect for the sanctity of the prison system. I'm astounded he didn't stage a mass riot and let them all escape."

"I think it says more for Phantom's moral character." Pandora replied. "For him to go into that place intending nothing more than the escape of his cousin, that shows great dedication. He could not have known that he would escape."

"I suspect he would do it again." Dorathea added. "He is brave to a fault, all that I have seen of him suggests that he would sacrifice everything to make sure that everyone he cares for are safe. This is not the first time he has done so; if presented the opportunity he has always pursued the greater good, despite knowing that he could likely meet his end."

"That sort of ideology is good in a knight, but not in a king." Nocturne pointed out. "A king whose obsession drives him to his own destruction would leave the Ghost Zone in greater turmoil than it already is. It will take far more than ill conceived heroics to make Phantom remotely suitable as our liege."

"Danny Phantom's journey to and from the Phantom Zone was not without consequence." Clockwork added, his voice a swinging metronome that emphasised the pulsing beat of the council's argument.

"How so, Clockwork?" Incendio asked.

Clockwork bowed his head ever so slightly, the vague impression of compassion breaking through his stoic mask. To 'Writer it was clear that Clockwork had grown to care for the young ghost boy, almost as a grandfather would. "Phantom's corporeal body was, in essence, destroyed upon transition into the Phantom Zone, whereupon he escaped my sight. This is an inexorable truth for any ghost. Phantom's saving grace is, and always has been in his human half. It allowed him to survive the transition but only just so."

"I have yet to see the Great One since his return;" Frostbite commented, his voice whispering like a snowflake, melting on a breeze. "He has not visited the Ice Realms for many months."

"You said it was his human half that saved him." Bowen noted, his voice sharp as a blustering autumnal wind. "What of his ghost half?"

Clockwork frowned, a grave look crossing his eyes. 'Writer was momentarily concerned that the ancient ghost was about to lie before the council, but his answer was so deeply unbelievable that it rang with condemning truth. "Phantom is as a human; currently existing without the touch of his ghost half or the call of his obsession."

"A ghost without an obsession is nothing; a pitiful disgrace!" Walker shouted, his eyes glittering menacingly from under his bleak black hat.

"And a human with an obsession is lost." Dorathea countered.

"Lady Dorathea is right." Frostbite affirmed. "The Great One's dual nature is a blessing to all of us. It is his human heart that allows him to see outside of himself to grow and change within himself; something even the most powerful of us find impossible."

"The Halfling is not one of us." Raiden growled, baring long sharp canines. "The very fact that he relies on a human half only proves that he can't hope to understand what it is to be a ghost. How can you expect him to lead us when he is driven by basal human instinct?"

"Exactly my point, my dear Raiden." Walker commented, leaning casually back in his seat. "The halfa known as Danny Phantom is nothing to us. The inheritance laws don't apply to humans and they certainly shouldn't apply to a half breed."

"And yet he is the one for whom the crown fades." Bowen pointed out. "Pariah's power is waning; his reign has come to an end. Phantom is the one who defeated him, and by our own laws he is thusly first in line to the throne."

"This argument is becoming circular." Valda commented, her arms crossed across her breastplate. "We can all agree on Phantom's power and might, what divides us is his character."

"What would you propose?" Nocturne asked, his voice an icy dagger cutting mercilessly through the chamber.

Valda paused, a considering frown crossing her brow. Eventually her arms dropped to her sides as the red haired ghost squared her shoulders. "That he be tested." She replied, the words rolling off her tongue with the heavy finality of a tumbling boulder.

"That is not a bad idea." Pandora agreed, a smile drawing on her lips as she caught onto the idea. "Like the young Heracles, each of us shall assign a challenge for the young Phantom; thirteen trials to determine the worth of his character, both as a ghost and as a leader. Should he pass all thirteen tests the Council will repeal all qualms and allow Phantom his right to ascend the throne."

"And when he fails?" Walker pressed, a dark chill pooling into his menacing green eyes.

"Then we shall smite him." Pandora replied bluntly, the tip of her spear glimmering fiercely in the chamber light.

"Is the Council in accordance?" Achlys asked, receiving several nods in reply. Walker and Nocturne each had cruel sadism lighting their eyes, but there was also quiet confidence from Dorathea and Frostbite. 'Writer could see the value in it; like the heroes of ancient stories these trials would prove Phantom's merits. If he passed everything the Thirteen challenged him then the Council couldn't deny his right to the throne. But it couldn't be easy, and 'Writer could see that already some were planning almost insurmountable tasks for the young child.

"What about his ghost half?" Incendio asked. "Given this light it seems almost redundant to plan anything. Without his powers he won't be able to pass anything we challenge of him."

"Phantom will be ready to face whatever challenges you set for him." Clockwork replied evenly, saying nothing and implying everything. It was a lovely mincing of words, allowing the council to presume that Phantom's powers would return without actually saying it would be so. It sparked his curiosity, making the bibliophile desperate to hear the full tale. But... if he was living in a story he knew he would have to wait. Alice in Wonderland would be ruined if she'd known not to follow the white rabbit. So too would 'Writer be patient, wandering into Wonderland as Alice and waiting till he could meet his Cheshire Cat.

"I should like to add a further stipulation." Dorathea added, drawing the attention of the council as she shuffled with slight unease. "That these thirteen challenges are to be completed before Sir Phantom reaches the age of majority in human years, that his coronation may be held on his eighteenth human birthday."

"So either we'll have a king before a year has passed, or we'll be rid of the punk forever." Walker mused, green eyes glimmering darkly from beneath his shadowed Stetson. "That's a good Rule."

"Then we have come to a decision." Valda confirmed, absently twirling an arrow in her hand. "The halfa known as Danny Phantom shall be crowned king upon his reaching the age of majority, contingent upon his completion of any and all tests the Thirteen provide."

"So mote it be." Each of the Council members stated, each affirmation adding a thrum of definitive power to the declaration. Danny Phantom had faced many challenges, told and untold alike. He had done great deeds by the people of the Ghost Zone, and slighted them in the same breath. But for all the trials he'd already overcome, 'Writer believed there was still far more treacherous ones to come. Yet in his core he felt that it would be alright, Phantom, for all his souls was iron in his will. Like King Arthur or Winston Churchill, there was something about the boy that held a strange amount of fortitude and strength. He would survive it, and no doubt would surpass the Thirteen's expectations while he was at it.

'Writer watched as the Council left, proceeding out with quiet majesty. The council ended, he made to go about finishing up his notes. Cautiously he stood up, stacking his keyboard carefully atop a pile of ancient tomes. He was about to leave himself, knowing that he would need to review the meeting minutes before he could file them, when he looked up. Clockwork was still there, apparently deep in conversation with Speaker. But his wise old eyes turned to him, filled with calm certainty as the ancient ghost smiled at him.

"You knew this would happen." 'Writer said before he could help himself.

Clockwork's smile broadened ever so slightly, stained with the edge of confidant knowing. "I did." He replied.

"You manipulated the council." He realised, recalling Clockwork's earlier statements, the careful phrasing when he highlighted Phantom's current condition. "You wanted Walker to react the way he did."

"Perhaps." Clockwork replied, omniscient power dancing across the steady tone of his voice. "The future is not plainly linear, it has many different branches, all twisting and turning toward their final destination."

The world was a story, every second that passed added more to it. This was something that Ghost Writer had long since accepted. Like the words on a page, sometimes it was impossible to imagine where it was leading, but it always took you somewhere. The story may seem impossibly complex, with billions of different plots weaving in and out, characters appearing and disappearing. But every aspect told a part of the same story, stretching eternally towards some unknowable end. But it was the journey that he had always loved; getting to know the characters and the world they lived in.

Yes, the world was a story, and Ghost Writer loved living it. Every single word of it. But he was always curious about where the next plot turn might lead, always seeking the far off 'why' in where the story was going. He was a bibliophile to the core, and always probing about each twist that was written into the story, how it would affect the path to the end and how it changed what was known of everything that had come before. It was his curiosity that guided him, drove him in all his literary pursuits, and he thrived on it.

"So you know what will happen, in the end? How the story finishes?" The bibliophile asked needlessly.

Clockwork smiled enigmatically at him, the Time Staff held firmly in hand as the powerfully ancient ghost floated before him. "I do." Clockwork replied, deep and even, speaking with the volume of a thousand ages and the whispering of the silence of the beat between pendulum swings. His words only led Writer on, thirsting for more at the burning of unresolved questions.

Still Clockwork smiled at him, archaic lips breathing endless mystery. "But then, I do know everything."