(I do not own Soul Eater, Soul Eater NOT!, or any other related names. All rights belong to Manga Entertainment, Madman Entertainment, Square Enix, and Atsushi Okubo)

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We are this close, people. Really, really close to the end of this story, and I cannot wait to show you guys what happens next. This is possibly one of gloomiest chapters that I had ever written. If you all thought chapter 3 was emotional, just wait until you check this one out.

- Chapter Five -

The Third of the Ghosts

Arachne stood in the middle of the alleyway, all alone and scared. She gazed around aimlessly, and heard strange and horrible noises that jolted her senses up to one hundred. Just why in the world would Eibon just leave her like this? Did he believe that she was not punished enough and saw fit to make her suffer even more? Was it because he did not have enough time to return her home? These questions continued to fill her mind as she carefully gazed around the now empty alleyway.

"Eibon?" she called out. "Come back! I want to talk!" Nothing came in response and Arachne spoke again, but softly this time.

"I know I have made mistakes here and there," she muttered. "But you cannot just leave me here all by myself because of those mistakes. Oh, please come back. Don't leave me here in this awful place... I'm begging you. Have pity on me... Do not leave me." And of course, nothing came in response to her pleas. Feeling defeated, Arachne hung her head.

"What have I done... to be abandoned like this?" she wondered.

Many different answers went through her head. Because she was selfish, because she had mistreated others, because of her stubbornly shallow views towards Christmas, because she refused to have happiness again into her life. Just when she thought that it could not get any more worse for her, mist began to form beneath her feet. She saw that the mist then suddenly enveloped her and blinded her sight. In an act of fright, Arachne started to run, but when she simply took one step in her attempt, her foot caught on something and she fell to the snow-covered ground.

Once the mist died down, she realized that she was no longer in the alleyway, but instead found herself in the middle of a graveyard.

A feeling of despair came about her as she gazed around at the field covered with numerous tombstones belonging to the long deceased. It was a lonely place, choked with grass and weeds. What had caught her full attention was that the mist all around her slowly turned from white and then dark gray, and then finally black. Ghostly whispers began to echo around the dark and desolate graveyard, whispers so spine-chilling and almost nerve-racking, accompanied by inhuman moans.

Arachne's heart thumped hard and nearly fast in her chest and she felt her body tremble in what could be simply described as petrifying terror. The black mist suddenly moved around and slithered like serpents towards the center of the graveyard until it formed into a human-sized pillar, with glowing yellow dots forming into what looked like eyes near the top, which Arachne felt were threatening to pierce into her soul. She continued to watch, frozen in fear, as the black mist formed into what looked like a human figure.

Finally, the pillar-like mist dissipated, where a dark human-looking figure now stood in its place. The figure had the appearance of a pale-faced young man possibly around in his twenties. Of course, Arachne could only have guessed that he appeared to be that age simply because of his height and build. The ghost was dressed in nothing but all black 19th century inspired clothing with an ankle-length frock coat, a cravat, and a double-breasted waistcoat.

She saw his lips, his chin, jawline, and the bottom of his nose, but she was unable to see the upper half of his ghostly-pale face, for it was hidden by the shadow created by the black hood he wore over his head. The only things she could see were the ever so glowing yellow eyes that still carried an essence of pure darkness and terror. Hissing ghostly voices lowly echoed around him as if he was carrying around with him the souls of the dead as his only company. Just everything about this figure's appearance was truly the stuff that nightmares were built upon. Arachne slowly stood back up on her feet and tried to compose herself.

"W-Who are you?" she asked. But the figure did not respond. "... Are you the Ghost of Christmas Future?" The figure stood silent but then inclined his head into a single nod.

"Are you going to show me the things that have not yet happened," Arachne asked. "but eventually will happen?" Again, the ghost simply nodded as his glowing yellow eyes continued to be fixed intently upon her, as if he was trying to pierce into her soul. Because of this, Arachne averted her gaze from him, lightly bowed her head and breathed heavily, as her fearful heart continued to thump in her chest.

"Out of all the other ghosts that I have met so far," she said, "you are beyond the most terrifying I have ever met, for you bare the image of Death itself. Um, is it alright with you if I call you that?" The ghost remained silent.

"Oh Death," she muttered. "I have learned so much from the other ghosts, and tonight, I shall learn from you as well. Lead on, Death. Lead on."

Death placed a cold hand on Arachne's shoulder and pointed into the distance. Arachne knew that she was meant to follow the phantom, though she was terribly fearful. She had learned much from her two ghostly visitors and was ready now to learn what this final specter had to teach. Or so she thought. They eased on over through the graveyard and into the swallowing darkness.

When the light returned, Arachne found herself once again on the streets of Death City. It was now raining, and she saw a small group of business men with umbrellas, talking amongst themselves. It was very clear to her that they were talking about someone, a woman, who had just lately passed away, but their conversation was far from being sad. In fact, they were all laughing and joking about it. Arachne was utterly shocked to see this. Just whose death would cause so little of emotion in such people?

"Have these men no respect for the dead?" she said, after turning to Death. "And what do they have to do with me?"

But of course, she could get no clarification from Death who guided her once again. The ghost then led her to a small ragpickers establishment, where people brought in things to sell. It was a somewhat small-looking place, with a roof that reached up to be a little over two stories high and the shells were filled with old trinkets and antics. There were three young girls, one was holding some collar buttons, the second carried some bed curtains over her shoulder, and the third was carrying some sheets and blankets. They had with them the possessions of the dead woman spoken about earlier by the business men.

The three girls, whose names were Tsugumi, Meme, and Anya, walked up to the front desk of the ragpickers establishment where a thirty-year-old man stood behind. The man had a bland tan skin tone and had a varied types of piercings, along with a metal necklace. Both of his eyes and hair color were a calm brown, and his hair was spiked, in several places, to resemble a series of blades.

"Alright, you three," he said, rubbing his hands delightfully. "Let's see what you got for ol' uncle Giriko." The three girls handed him the stuff they carried with them and placed them on top of his desk. Giriko held the collar buttons in his hands and inspected them. He estimated that they would cost a mere one dollar and fifty-five cents all together. He then went to the cash register and gave Tsugumi the amount into her hands. He then moved on over to the bed curtains and inspected them as well.

"I'd say..." he paused for a moment, turning to Meme. "I'll give you twenty bucks for the curtains." Meme looked at Giriko offended.

"What?!" she exclaimed. "That's even less than the amount you gave me last time!"

"Twenty dollars," Giriko answered. "That's all you're gonna get right now, kid. Unless ya got something better."

"Giriko, those are high quality curtains," Tsugumi chimed in. "Surely you could reconsider based on the fact that they use to belong to... her." Giriko became suddenly intrigued by what he had just heard. He stroke his chin in thought and then finally made up his mind.

"Alright then, sweetheart I'll raise you forty-five." With that, Giriko went back to the register, pulled out forty-five dollars and handed them to Meme.

"Alright, Anya, let's see what you got," Giriko moved aside the buttons and curtains, and examined the sheets and blankets. He stopped for a moment and looked at Anya.

"Why, Anya," he said. "These blankets are still warm. You know I don't pay extra for the warmth."

"Well, you should," Anya said, a terrible smile growing across her face. "These were all the warmth that old wretch of a woman ever had."

"And now, she has all the warmth she has..." Giriko added, "down bellow, of course." With that, all three girls laughed and giggled with sadistic glee as did Giriko along with them. Not one of them had even a single tear to shed and not a sad thing to say. Arachne felt crushed by what she saw. Just how and why would these people show such delight over someone's death? She turned to the ghost.

"Oh Death," she pleaded. "Please show me some tenderness in this world. Let me see some depth of feeling."

Without a word, Death enveloped himself and her in pitch darkness, but then reemerged in another part of town. Here, Arachne found herself upon familiar grounds. It was Medusa's house again. She felt happy to be back at this warm and joyous place. But something seemed wrong. As wrong as wrong could be. It was quiet inside. And strangely empty.

The only trace of life the house had were Medusa and Maka, who sat on the dining room table. While Medusa read today's afternoon mail, Maka quietly read in her hands a copy of the Bible. Medusa gazed down at the tiny stack of bills laid before her, stone-faced. But then, she stopped for a moment. A sad expression formed on her face and hung her head low. Maka noticed this and set her Bible down.

"You okay, Mama?" she asked with concern. Medusa looked up and lightly smiled at her stepdaughter.

"It's nothing, sweetheart," she said. "I'm fine. Everything's fine." But the look on her face from before told Arachne a different story. As realization began to set in, she shook her head fearfully.

"No... " she uttered. "God in Heaven, please no. Don't let this be what I think it is."

When the sound of the front doorknob being turned irrupted, Medusa did what she could to try and compose herself as if nothing had happened. Walking through the front door and into the living room was Spirit Albarn, who had returned home from work. After Maka stood up, and gave him a hug and kiss and made her way to the kitchen to help get ready for dinner, and after Spirit hung his wool jacket on a nearby coat hanger, he went over to the table and stood behind Medusa. He placed both his hands comfortingly onto her shoulders and lightly kissed the top of her head.

"How are we doing?" he asked with a mutter. Medusa sighed tiredly.

"Good," she said. "How was work?" Spirit shrugged his shoulders.

"Same old, same old," he stated.

"Dinner will be ready in five minutes." Medusa said. And so, after those five minutes had passed, dinner was placed upon the table. The family said their prayers and ate their plates and bowled filled with pot roast and Irish stew. As they continued to dig into their meal, not one of them smiled or talked. Not Spirit, Maka, or Medusa. Nothing but deafening silence filled the dinner table. After a while, Spirit finally mustered up the will to speak.

"This stew is really good," he said. "And... Um... What do you think Maka." His daughter nodded her head and said the same thing as he did. After another moment of awkward silence, Spirit cleared his throat and spoke again. But he knew that what he was about to say would be too painful for his wife and daughter to hear, even for him. But still, they had to know.

"I'd, uh... " he hesitated "I'd picked a spot for Crona where he can see... " But when he openly mentioned his stepson's name, Spirit stopped for a moment, as his throat started to become choked up losing the battle of trying to contain the pain and sorrow that dwelled within him.

"It's a spot on the hill, near the side of the city, where you can see the ducks on the river. Crona–" Spirit stopped again, unable to finish the next painfilled words.

"Crona always loved watching the ducks on the river," Medusa finished for her husband. But soon, she too could not help but break down as she hung her head low and started to cry again. Spirit got up from his seat and moved on over to his wife's location, as did Maka, and the family held each other close and continued to cry their broken hearts out.

"My boy," Medusa whimpered, "my special baby boy." Arachne stared on with her mouth covered by both hands, her face written with dread as her worst nightmares has been fully confirmed. She thought that she was ready for what Death was going to show her, but nothing had prepared her for something so heart-wrenching as this. It was as if her entire world had now fallen apart.

"No... No, this cannot be happening!" she exclaimed overcome by grief. "Oh, dear God, please no!"

Arachne fell to her weakened knees and pounded her fists onto the floor. How could this be? How could her own nephew, that sweet little boy, have died? Then the cold and rock-hard truth came to her in her mind. She did this. It was she who had made this future possible. She was responsible for having Crona ripped away from Medusa and her family's lives, replacing it with nothing but pain and heartache. She was the cause for their anguish and suffering. It was all her fault. I am so sorry, Medusa, she mentally thought. I'm the one who deserve this pain, not you. Arachne turned to Death, who looked down at her with a hateful-looking sneer on his dark face.

"Death, please understand," she said tearfully. "I did not mean for this to happen. Tell me, please tell me, that these events can still be changed."

With that, Death once again enveloped Arachne and himself in petrifying darkness. After it had dissipated, Arachne had suddenly found herself outside, back to the dark and terrible graveyard. Thunder and lightning struck from the melancholy sky above. She turned to the ghost for answers.

"Why have we come back here?" she asked. Death responded by pointing a pale finger at a certain grave that was being buried by two men with shovels. The two men appeared to be twin brothers, for they both looked the same, in skin tone, eye color, hair, and everything. They were cemetery workers. The two of them laughed and carried on while filling up the grave.

"I tell you what, Noah," one said, "I don't think I've ever seen a funeral like this one." Noah inhaled a lit cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke.

"You got that right, Grimoire," said the twin brother. "No mourners and no friends to bid her farewell." Grimoire paused for a second, held up his arm and looked at his wristwatch. He smiled.

"Oh well," he said. "Let's say we go rest for a minute, eh?"

"But shouldn't we finish this first?" asked Noah. Grimoire looked down at the unfilled burial for a short spell and up at his twin brother. He grinned.

"Nah, I think it's fine," he stated. "And besides, it's not like she's going anywhere." And just like that, the two brothers laughed at those words as they walked out of the graveyard and disappeared out of sight. After watching this, Arachne turned to the ghost and swallowed a hard lump stuck in her throat.

"Death," she said. "I fear our time together is very close at hand. Before we depart, there is a question I must ask of you. I am very much afraid of it, but I must know for sure. Just who was the wretched woman whose death brought so much glee and happiness to others?" The ghost remained silent and still held his pointed finger towards the gravestone.

"Are you suggesting that whomever is living in this grave is connected to the dead woman?" she asked. But the ghost only pointed again. Arachne turned around, bent down, and gazed down at the still wooden coffin that laid deep within the unfinished gravesite.

"Death... at least answer me this," she spoke. "Whose lonely grave... is this?" Lightning struck, and the illuminating light allowed her to see the engraved words on the tombstone. What she saw made her jump back in horror, and crawled away. Her eyes were wide as they could be, and her entire body trembled, almost like she had been turned into jelly. She stared at the words written on that stone that was now plain and bare for her to see. The feeling of what I could only describe as unspeakable horror, captivated her and made her feel like she was about to be sick.

Here lies Arachne Gorgon.

Born on Feb. 7th, 1982. Died on Dec. 25th, 2017.

Rest In Peace.

She violently shook her head. There was no possible way of denying it. The irrefutable truth that she was the dead woman. And this was her own gravesite. To put salt on the wound, no on had come to her funeral. No one came to mourn her passing. Arachne Gorgon had died all alone by herself with no one to send her a farewell. Arachne turned and clutched at the ghost's jacket.

"Oh please, Death, no!" she cried as she felt a hitch in her voice. "Please, hear me out! I am not the woman I use to be! If I am passed forgiveness, then why do you still show me this?" Arachne wiped away the heavy tears from her face with the sleeve of her robe and sniffed.

"By my word, I promise you! I will change! I will honor Christmas and everything it stands for! I will keep it within my heart and I will not forsake the lessons that you and the others have taught me! I will right every single wrong that I have committed! Oh, Death, please! In the name of God, I am begging you! Please, spare me of this abysmal fate!" Suddenly, a strange noise caught her ears. She whipped around and heard eerie moans and cries coming from the dug-up grave. They grew louder and louder, until what Arachne saw shook her soul. Emerging from the grave were long spindly-fingered hands, and they all slithered towards Arachne like snakes. She looked up pleadingly at Death, who only continued to stare down at her as if she were a disgusting roach.

Before she could say anything, the hands grabbed her by the ankles and dragged her across the ground. She screamed in despair and tried desperately to pull herself away, to no avail. After reaching the hole, she held onto the ledge for dear life as the hands suddenly let go and disappeared. A feeling of relief washed over her, and she began to climb up, only to stop and look down at how deep the hole was. It was unnaturally deep, reaching to be about over fifteen feet below. A glowing red light shown at the bottom, revealing the coffin below.

Suddenly, the lid of the coffin swung wide open, and fire and smoke shot out. Arachne stared in dismay and her mouth hung agape. She violently shook her head at this. She tried to climb back up, but her feet kept slipping against the slippery dirt. Desperation and fear grew as the fire below rose even higher until it barely touched her slippered feet. She looked up and now saw Death looming over with that same frown on his pale face.

"Please!" she cried. "Give me a chance! I will change! I promise, I will change!" Death knelt to one knee and leaned closer while looking at her sternly with his ominously glowing yellow eyes. What Arachne heard next was the ghost who finally spoke for the first time since they met, but in a very whisper-like eerie tone that would send enough cold shivers all the way down someone's spine.

"Burn in Hell," he said slowly and coldly. Arachne stared up at him in shock and then, and she recalled what she had said the other day, that she would soon rather burn in Hell, than help the poor. It would seem her wish had been granted.

"No, Death, no!" she called out. "I beg of you! Please, have mercy on me!" Suddenly, just before she thought her hands were about to slip, the ledge come apart and Arachne fell into what would now be her eternal damnation.

"I will change!" she screamed as she continued to fall. "I WILL CHANGE!"

And just like that, Arachne Gorgon fell into the fire-covered coffin below and into the smoky darkness of the fiery black abyss.

Wow. Just... wow. I don't think I've ever written something this dark and depressing before. There actually were a few times where I cried when I wrote the scene where Arachne realized Crona has died. It truly is a sad thing to experience; the adult fear of losing a beloved child to something terrible. But don't you all worry. Things will be better in the next chapter. And what did you all think? Do you all believe this could have been written better or like it the way it is? What ways do you want to see this story improve? Well, go ahead and give me your full opinions in your reviews. I enjoy reading your responses.

I am going to release the final chapter next week, on Christmas Eve this coming Sunday. I'm sure you guys can wait, and trust me, it will be worth it. Until then, have a wonderful Christmas time. TTFN; Ta-Ta For Now. ;)