Author's Notes: Hmm…Chapter 2 underwent some overhaul, minor edits to Chapter 3. I highly recommend you re-read chapter 2, because there are some elements of foreshadowing and dramatic irony that you don't want to miss. Or I could just be BSing just to get you to read the drabble in there XD But yeah, Chapter 2 is improved (mainly the latter half).

Cookies (or something else? O.o ) to Anonymoussi, because Moussi's reviews stoke my ego and motivate me to churn out chapters xD

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Ragnarok Online

The Spectres of Amatsu

Chapter 4

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"I had a dream once, where all that is dead was alive and all that is alive was dead. And then I opened my eyes."

- 石川健太郎 (Ishikawa Kentarou)

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"…Charming."

Lise pinched the bridge of her nose and tried not to look at the ghost. When she had walked into the room, the priestess had not expected to see a grown man happily rolling around on the floor. He just looked…utterly ridiculous. And with the spiked dog collar, she couldn't help but be reminded of an overgrown wet dog flopping on the ground during a hot day. The woman who married this…puerile ghost must have had the strangest taste in men.

He shot her a wide grin from his place on the floor. "But you get the best views from here."

Ahwhat?

A tinge of pink appearing on her cheeks, Lise hurriedly smoothed down her robes and aimed a kick at his face. But before her foot could connect with the satisfying crunch she so desired, the dog-man-thing rolled out of the way. Phasing to a more appropriately ghostly look, he passed right through the table before getting to his feet and languidly stretching. The ghost quickly shifted back to his more solid shape and sat himself down onto the table, stretching his long legs out in front of him. Before she could restart her interrogation, he jumped in.

"Lemme ask you a question for once, priestess." He tilted his head as he looked her straight in the eye. "Who are you?"

It was the question she still wanted the answer from him. But she had already told him who she was, unlike a certain frustrating ghost. "What do you mean? I already told you, I'm Lise."

He waved away her answer, shaking his head. "No…" He turned his gaze upward, as if he was searching for the heavens he could neither see nor reach. "Who are you really? I know you, but I don't…"

"What about me? I don't know who you are either."

"You already know who I am."

"No I don't," she argued, placing one hand on her hip. "All I know is that you're a ghost, that's it. I don't know who you are and what your name is."

He yawned and leant back, lying on the table. His long legs dangled off the table and his feet were placed awkwardly on the ground. "Names don't mean anything, and I'm exactly what I told you before."

Argh, they were going around in circles again. Couldn't he just give her a straight answer? "But calling you by name would be much better than always thinking of you as 'that ghost'."

"You call people by who they are to you, priestess."

"So I'm just 'priestess' to you?"

"Yes."

The bluntness of his reply stopped her mind dead in its tracks, as if he had thrown a stone into the clockwork. But he still had not answered her more important questions. And his reply didn't sit very well with her. Lise decided to try a decidedly different approach; he wasn't a real person anyway. "Look, please, could you just tell me your name? It would make me feel better."

He seemed to be tracing invisible patterns in the ceiling. "No."

He didn't even look like he was paying attention anymore. He could not be ignoring her! She wouldn't allow it!

"Why?" she cried out in frustration, fake tears welling in her eyes. Her knees turned weak and she gracelessly slumped on the floor. She buried her face in her hands, as if she was crying. "God, I just want to know your name!" She raised her head to look at him, her crocodile tears slipping down her face through her fingers. "Is that so much to ask for?"

She watched him – through her fingers – sit up and stare at her. It took only a few heartbeats before he was there, squatting before her. The childish mask he wore had a tiny crack, giving her a glimpse of the creature within. He was torn, the harsh 'who the hell cares' Morroccan attitude struggling with the other side that saw her as his wife; his golden eyes betrayed the storm and turmoil brewing inside. But concern won the war over disbelief and apathy. She couldn't help but flinch at the sudden bite of cold as he took her worn hands in his own calloused ones. "I just want to see my wife again," he whispered, bowing his head. "Is that so much to ask for?"

Guilt drove a knife into the pit of her stomach; the mask that no longer hid him told her to look away. She could only stare when his cold hand brushed her fake tears away.

"It's NightEyes." He left the faintest of breaths when he vanished, slipping through her slack hold over him. For a fleeting moment, Lise thought she saw something crystalline gleam in the dim light.

She tried to smile to herself in victory. She had finally managed to wrangle the ghost's name from him. Maybe her method had not been very priestess-like, but she had finally gotten a straight answer out of him. Besides, he wasn't really alive anyway; he was just a memory, so he couldn't actually feel emotions...

Then why did she feel she had done something very, very wrong…?

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"We had an agreement."

"I just want to see her one last time. You know…before I go. You've been waiting for…how long was it again?"

"Millennia."

"Yeah, that. Can't you wait just a bit longer?"

"…Alright."

But when he reached the entrance of the Maze, those weird squiggles he had seen glowed. And when he tried to step over the threshold, he burned. He didn't hear the shrieks for him to stop, for him to get away from the entrance. He continued to push forward, screaming. Because he didn't want to accept he was trapped here, just like the Samurai.

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"Hmm, NightEyes, you say? That sounds vaguely familiar."

The sage continued to shelve books, while Lise leaned on the counter. Feather's attention seemed to be focused on a spot up on the ceiling though. Lise could barely contain the wide grin that was threatening to split her face. If Feather recognised the name, then she was definitely going to get information on the ghost within a couple of days, max. Maybe she wouldn't even need Tan'gari's aid.

"Would you happen to know what era he lived in?"

Lise brought her head off her hands as the looked up at the sage, who was balancing precariously on her ladder to place a book on a shelf just within her reach. "I was thinking he lived in our time, since he mentions his wife is still alive."

"Impossible. He can't have died within this century, or else I would be able to remember him quite easily."

Lise flicked an invisible speck of dust off the counter. "You could be wrong."

The sage drew herself up to her full height and said haughtily, "I am never wrong."

"Maybe he was just an ordinary guy." Lise leaned forward and pillowed her head on her arms. "Not important enough to be in any records." Lise didn't know why she said it.

Feather clambered down from her ladder with yet another book open in her hands. She made a clicking noise with her tongue and picked up a different book. "If I remember him," she said, "he was definitely something more."

"Well, then maybe–"

"Lise, Lise, stop worrying about your little ghost," Feather interrupted, placing her book on the counter. "I'll find the answers soon enough, never fear. You should get out and relax. It's nearly Christmas! You shouldn't be working so hard at this time of year. Go to Lutie or something and enjoy yourself."

Lise wanted to point out that the librarian would still be working through the holidays. But she knew that Feather truly enjoyed what she did, and never thought what she did was work at all. Not that Lise considered shelving books a job at all.

"Well…I have been busy all these years." The priestess chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. "You know, coming to think of it, I've never gone to Lutie before…"

The sage shot Lise a beatific smile. "All the more reason to go! Now that the Church isn't cooping you up in some smelly cave, you should go."

"I suppose…"

Lise knew she should take a break from Amatsu and that ghost – how did her focus change from the Incantation Samurai to NightEyes? – but she wanted to pursue the strings of answers that dangled just within her reach. She was a falcon perched high, watching the movements of her prey. She didn't want to take her eyes off him, lest she let him escape like sand through an hourglass. But she had no choice. For now, she could only wait for the answers to come to her.

She prayed Feather was wrong about him.

Feather looked up from browsing through her book. "Oh, and if I get you the information you need, you owe me lunch at Gracie's."

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"You said you could wait."

"You have already postponed our agreement once."

"I haven't seen her yet and I won't be able to until that bastard's dead. I'm not asking you to wait again."

"That is true. But do not forget–"

"I'm not him .You can shove your immortality up your–"

He had seen that familiar face, the face he thought could end it all. The face he had waited for so long to see again. But she wasn't her; she was never her.

But in the moments of boredom, she was all he had.

And it hurt.

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"Information has been scarce, but with that name, the task will be much easier. We will have more answers when you next return."

Lise frowned. "If you don't have more information than my other contact, then I will have to seriously reconsider your usefulness."

"If we don't have more than your other contact, then I have no right to the name of Tan'gari." Lise thought she could detect a hint of offence at her words.

If Tan'gari's information network was as good as his reputation – which she was beginning to doubt – then he would already know about Feather's words. Lise said them anyway. "The other contact also mentioned that NightEyes may be from another era."

"If that is so, there is little information to be found in Morroc. No official paperwork was kept in the past. You know that only in the last fifty years the government started to write records. Anything other than ancient history from antiquity has been lost."

"Are you saying you cannot complete your end of the bargain? If that is the case–"

"You misunderstand," the distorted voice cut in. "I am simply stating that information will not be found here if your ghost turns out to have been dead in between these times."

"I see. If that is all you have for me today, I will take my leave." She stood up, but didn't turn to exit. "Do you think the undead have emotions?" Morroc, like most of the other cities, had its own undead problems, past and present.

"If they can, they do." There was a pause. "You are a priestess of the Church. Farewell, Sister Ravella."

Lise stared at the crystal ball before dipping her head to the cloaked middleman and excusing herself from the room. She shielded her eyes from the unrelenting beat of the sun as she stepped out onto the dusty streets of Morroc. A small group of children were playing with diabolo – how could such an innocuous toy have a name with demonic connotations? – and laughing. She stopped, noticing the laughter and smile of one especially skilled girl.

Lise had always liked watching diabolists at work – or was it at play? – so she sat down on a nearby bench and watched the girl. The girl played with two of the brightly coloured toys, deftly juggling them through the air and along her string. There were moments of simple spinning, but there were moments where there was a flurry of movement, and everything changed. And when everything is in the air, there would be some scrambling to keep everything spinning smoothly. All this was difficult enough with one diabolo, but add another one and there was a whole new dimension to the game.

It was just like adding another person into her life.

Lise clapped when the girl finished her tricks. The group turned as one to stare at Lise, whispering, but the girl smiled and gave a little curtsey after her surprise faded away. Lise watched the children run off, laughing as they clutched their toys to their chests, leaving her to delve back into her unanswered thoughts. She was a priestess of the Church. What was Tan'gari telling her by saying that?

Lise clutched the rosary in her hand more tightly as she paid the Kafra for a warp to Prontera.

"…It is our duty to step into the darkness and wield God's light to help the restless souls who have lost their way find the path to heaven. The undead do not belong in this world, but in the afterlife, and it is us who are their guides to the land beyond…"

She was digging her own grave.

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Author's Notes: For those who don't know what a diabolo is, look it up in Wikipedia and have a look at www(dot)diabolotricks(dot)com after that for little animated .gifs that illustrate what the tricks are like. I find diabolo utterly fascinating, although I haven't seen them around for a few years. Comments and criticism welcome :D