On the third floor of the Masters Estate, through the winding hallways lined with dark woods and winding metals, one would have the fortune to find the arcs and twists of the integrated library, which boasted a maze of books, texts and the otherwise all in the overhang of the mansion. It spanned two levels, the upper half the size of the lower but sported a nice overhang that cliffed off into dual ladders that kissed the carpet ceremoniously. The bottom half was stocked with books upon books, editions and scriptures alphabetized accordingly along the shelves which were a deep mahogany that overarched in rows upon rows as far as one could reach. The carpet, dazzled small pale yellow lines that intersected upon one another to the point of a gridding confusion that puzzled Vlad himself. A small walk would bring you the middle, a centerplex holding a long rectangular table carved from the finest bermudian willow which presented itself with the straight backs of black leather accompanying it. In the middle, a vase that held no flowers, nor secrets.

On the southern end of the Master's Estate Library, there were two curious souls who sifted through the literature like playful children. Upon the top of a shelf ladder that was organized to reach the top, stood Danny, sifting through the sea of books with authors that began with "IL", which was honestly more shelves than it should have been, below him, Vlad took to the unlabeled authors, crouching in his dress slacks and tie as if he had somewhere to go.

Danny opened his mouth to say something, while holding a particularly heavy version of "The Immortal Rules" but opted out when He saw how Vlad had come into convergence within his work. The younger halfa breathed, the optics of oceania burning holes into the lateral of the others back, as if to say something with his eyes, while his gaze presented the fallacy of admiration that he could never give him. Interment in his house? Perhaps, but Danny could never pervert the morals of his mind with admiration for the older, even if the passing three days were filled with speechless dinners, and at a point, a display of power so grand, that it pinned the notes of jealousy into the heart of Danny. (not like he was supposed to be watching anyway.) Rather that admiration, he found the recluse of intrigue within Vlad, bridled deep beneath a boiling, perhaps scalding hate that could only be expressed correctly during the eruption of a volcano during hurricane season, but that was none of Vlad's business. At the moment at least.

"If you have something to say, consider it an alternative to sitting there and worming around it." Vlad said through pursed lips that dictated his words and Danny's like an oppressive ruler on a weak land. Danny internally shrieked, and was taken aback, and it was as if he could see the smirk that laced Vlad's lips.

"Why do you have all these books anyway? Its not like you can read them all." Danny proposed as he diligently shelved and reshelved three books to make it look like he was doing some work. Vlad turned to him and handed him a copy to shelf, which he laid on the edge of the banister carefully.

"You should be a little less nosy, Little badger." He clears his throat before continuing. "There are a lot of abandoned libraries littering the nether regions of the ghost zone from the Fourth Great War. Im sure you've run through one or two before. They're very hard to miss."

"Yeah i know what youre talkin' about." Danny followed through with Vlad, recalling how good the libraries were for escape. "But , there was a-" He puts up air quotes. "Great War?"

"Four Great Wars, two and a half dynasties."

"How do you have a half dynasty?"

"Its complicated." Vlad hissed through clenched teeth, before turning upon the boy. Partially, he leaned against the edge of the ladder and twisted his wrist as a storytellers touch. " Three hundred or so years ago, the ghost zone was split into numerous territories by a bunch of A-grade ghosts, some including Pariah Dark and Dora, and everybody was constantly fighting over territory and who got what and whatnot." He paused to wipe his mouth, and looked out the boy who was engrossed with the entirety of himself. Vlad cleared his throat and reprieve the story. "Anyway, One territory run by a sorcerer by the name of Illutha started taking over other territories under some "Conquest of Absolute Truth" or something. War and rebellion broke out, Illuthia crushed pretty much everyone and everything, and there was unity which carried over to the ghost zone we know today." Vlad twisted his wrist with a bored pretense as he spoke, marveling in a disastrous sense of dark blue apathy. Counteractively, Danny looked up, and arched his eyebrows at Vlad.

"And what was it like seeing this all firsthand. old man?" Danny smirked into his words, while Vlad sauntered back to the arching pile of literature that he had to sort through.

At the boys comment, Vlad rolled his eyes metaphorically out of his head and onto the floor, before assuming a kneeling assurance in front of his books. However, before Vlad could begin, a heavy sneeze resounded from behind him, coupled with the heavy THWUMP of a particularly heavy book hitting carpet.

"I found your book…"Danny said sheepishly.

Vlad only sighed.

They met where Vlad had been stationed, among a sina of books that formed sort of a barrier between the two and the bookshelves. Heavy shadows from the midday sun cast over the two kneeling men, while, the tormenting shadows of the bookcases seemingly peered down upon them like a jury in a courtroom. In the air, a particular staleness came when the book was opened, and the dust in the pages jumped at Danny's nose like bridesmaids to a bouquet. Danny placed his hands on his knees and focused on the glyphs on the pages, while Vlad retrieved a pad and pen from his pocket and wrote down some gibberish from the middle of the book. Danny focused on the parchment, which was laden with wild english and handwritten glyphs from god knows when. Along the hem, one would find the scribblings of measurements like; "A half bushel of elfroot," or "Keep as far away from holy water as possible."

Curiosity grew in his throat, and he looked to Vlad. "What are you copying down anyway fruitloop?" He asked. "Another love potion for my mom? Some mind control juice?" From his joke, Danny felt the situation became dire, because he knew Vlad, and he knew what the other halfa was capable of. Danny narrowed his eyes, while Vlad became flushed with anger over the teenagers statement regarding his infatuation with the boys looked Danny in the eyes, which became serious, and while he distracted, Danny shot out his arms, and snatched the book away from Vlad.

A gasp came on baited breath, as confusion washed over the blaze of anger that kissed Vlad's throat like a teasing mistress. Vlad got to his feet, the soles of his feet bouncing on the carpet, while Danny reeled back a few steps, and flashed his eyes green. The older man grit his teeth, and gripped the paper on the pad as if to choke somebody.

"Daniel." He began, prepared for another fight with the boy. "All I'm doing is looking for the correct ingredients for an anti-Ghost barrier." He pointed towards the half-crumbled paper, which had the words 'Ghost Barrier' written along the top in the men's cursive. But the boy wasn't having it in the least, and retroactively, he barked at him while retreating two steps back.

"LIAR!."

"Daniel. Read the book." He said between gritted teeth. "If i wanted to hurt you, or somebody, I'd do it myself."

Danny didn't know how painfully true that sentence was, but in so, he found a sort of trust, or rather an armistice of some sorts that made him feel inclined to believe him. He realized that he had a choice. On one hand, he could battle vlad, with intent to kill still up to him and the other while they had a showdown somewhere in the woods. On the other hand, he could give Vlad the book back, and keep quiet like a good little child that he needed to be, or on ANOTHER hand, he could set the book ablaze and hit the highway like it was rush hour.

But that was three hands.

He kept his head down as he walked back to Vlad's side, still keeping the book to his chest and his mouth shut. No need to get his ass handed to him today, he supposed

The older man went back to work, while Danny peered into the margins of the book with light in his eyes. There were grimly written notes, mostly ingredients others, musings in the sides. But as zlad careened through the pages, he found something that piqued his interests with vigor, and with a stretch, his hand came out to greet the paper while inching the book away from Vlad, who paid him no mind.

Eyes scanned over text like a hawk to prey, as his mind tumbled along the rocky path that was the imposing text that riddled out phrases of spells, to powers he assumed he could unlock. Was this how Vlad got some of his abilities? He rolled the question around on his tongue, while eyeing the older Halfa. It made sense. The energy ropes that Vlad had snatched him with on the first day was something the boy had never seen before, and he really wanted to learn how to replicate himself, like he had seen in some of his other fights.

Then in the bargains, he saw in big bold writing; "Ability amplifier" with an arrow focused to an article on something called Decensium.

"Vladdie…."

From his crucible of papers and pens, he peered up at a bright eyes boy with a book in hand. He adjusted his seating, and thought. What could he want this time. Wasn't the forlorn young literally on his heels about mass destruction four minutes ago?

"What's Descensum?"

Of course.

"Absolutely not."

At the allotment of the males response, Danny was taken aback. "All i want to know is what it is! Quit acting like im going to summon a bat-demon in your living room?"

A Bat-Demon? he would sooner bed Jack Fenton himself.

Sighing, and setting his work down in front of him, he sucked his teeth and gave Danny a bored look. "Descensum, is, if i can remember correctly, an A-Rank ritual where a ghost or a wizard or whatever pulls their own soul into the pits of their mind in an attempt to recover memories, or find some new powers, or whatever." He rotated his wrist again, boredom oozing off of him like juice from an orange. "It takes a while, and it has to be done at night. It you stay till sunrise, your mind eats your soul and you become trapped in it for all eternity. Its much safer if you have someone act as a catalyst but not many can handle it."

Danny's eyes were wide with telltale intrigue, and his fingers brushed the edges of the book with a withheld vigor. He looked up to Vlad, who was fiddling with the ends of his hair.

"Have you ever done it?" Danny asked with an upward inflection.

Immediately, Vlad's face fell, and he cut his eyes in the direction of the teenager. Had he always been this intrusive in the older Halfa's affairs? Hell, had he always been this intrusive? Vlad didn't know, and lest he care at the point in time, he just wanted to leave the confines of his dreaded library before he ended up lost and starving within the walls of the books. He looked to danny, who was looking over the form of the book with his "Jane Doe" eyes, the type of eyes that children use to get what they want. But Vlad was a single bachelor on the older end with a infatuation (if even that) with a woman who most likely never liked him in the first place.

"Once." He'd rather not assess the rest.

His self esteem hurt for a moment. He shouldn't believe what the boy said. He's nothing but a nosy child.

"Vlad, can I try it?"

And with the final annunciation of that sentence, Vlad felt his brow practically crash deep into the reigns of anger, and with a deafening glare (if you could even call it that) he gazed towards the younger boy.

"Absolutely not."

"What? Why?"

"You'll get yourself killed. There is a reason Desencum is an A-Rank ritual you know." Condescendingly, the words came from the mouth of the bigger in serrated strings that stung like needles in Danny's skin. He wasn't a greenhorn, or a small foal who could barely walk, nor was he a bright eyes amatuer fresh out of the acadmey and ready to become a martyr for nothing. No sir. He was the boy who had taken down countless enemies. He was the boy who took down a power-crazed technomancer, he was the boy who duped a ghost hunter into his own capture, and he was the boy who had tricked a wish granter into granting a wish she couldn't refuse. He was much stronger than Vlad perceived, much stronger that Vlad could EVER perceive. He looked up to the man, eyes locking and in their heads, a battle begins. Danny snapped the book shut and stood up, and looked down to vlad with every ounce of Venom and intimidation that his soul could muster, and counteractively, Vlad bore his eyes into the others from the plains of his crouching position, to impart on the boy that his standing stature meant nothing of the superiority he wanted to convey.

With an outstretched hand, and a sheltered breath, Vlad came to his feet. "Give me the book."

In his eyes, a fire that made Danny's blood run cold spread onto the boy,, nipping at his forearms and at the nape of his neck. He attempted to stand his ground, and with a selfish ton, clutched the book to his chest.

With hateful eyes, Vlad looked to the boy, and with a quick arm, attempted to snatch the book from his clutches. However, Danny was faster. As soon as he saw the twinge of muscle coming at him with malicious intent. The younger halfa clamped his eyes shut and turned intangible, sucking in a deep breath. Vlad lost his balance, and stumbled through the boy clumsily, but regained his balance a few feet behind him.

Vlad turned, a flush across his face from being made a fool in the face of his opponent, and turned back to look at him.

"DANIEL!" He roared in the boys direction, seemingly shaking the books off the wall as his power began to resonate. His temper was lost to the wind, and the fire in his stomach threatened to come up with the power of a semi truck and obliterate Danny from the face of the earth. Again, they locked eyes, Dannys flashing green as he let intangibility overtake him once again. As Vlad came toward him for round two, he let himself come off his heels and phase through the floor.

Vlad was left with a snarling temper, a pile of books, and the arches of bookshelves overawing him with their winding shadows.

"Youll get yourself killed!" Danny mocked while charting the book for reference in the dim lights of his room. the day had grown late, and the sun had retreated behind the mountains to crack small oranges and reds across the sky, seemingly at war with the shades of blue and the stars in the sky. What little light was left in the day, cast a dim prayer in the form of light through the one window enter to his room, skimming across his bedsheets to the left and kissing the wood of the floor where Danny sat. The serrated shimmers of light radiated off the pale of his skin, as he twiddled the chalk in his hands, and referenced the book, which seemingly glowed at his side.

His eyes glowed green, an aide to night vision while he took the chalk and drew a circle on the hardwood floors, muttering the findings of an incantation that he would use in a few minutes. He looked toward the book, eyes wide and peering toward the main glyph that was inscribed in the text, copying two smaller circles, and then a bigger one that enclosed the three within a ring of writing.

"A pinch of bayberry?" He muttered to himself as he chewed on his bottom lip. "What is this? Cooking with Danny?" A chuckle came to his throat, up his mood as he placed some of the Bayberrys and their seeds in the upper circle. Adjacent to that, a placement of brimstone sat threatenly, as if it was going to burn a hole through the floor.

The last circle remained empty.

Danny sat back, knees in front and his feet used as a ballis to his weight, and he put his hands to his knees. Was he really going to do this? The thought touched him like a perverse notion, drilling him between his eyes like a warning sign in a field. Sure, Decensum was an A-rank spell, which even the most powerful of ghosts had their issues using correctly, but here he was, kneeling in front of a chalk-drawn glyph expecting to emerge in the first five minutes like Rocky Balboa in the first movie. He had his doubts, Sure, like everyone, but he periodically casted them to the side. He couldn't back out now, no, he had already made a fool of Vlad, it wasn't like the boy could return to the man, tail betwixt his legs and expect little to no rehash on the spot. No sir, he had talked shit. Frivolous and slightly fraudulent shit, and there was no way in hell that he was going to let Vlad make him eat his words.

And thats when he cracked his neck, and laid down, The glyph over his head like a halo to an angel.

A breath hitched at the back of his throat, and his heart rate went up threefold. He looked to his toes and wiggled them, just to make sure he was all there, while his neck became stiff under the hardwood of the floor. An exhale came like a desert wind to a traveler who needed a breeze more than anything.

He opened his mouth, and the words came out.

"Vide, ut video, spiritus, et inspira ut. Anima et corpus, ab invicem fragmentum, sed venit ad lucem."

He felt his body hitch loosely, as if it was being jerked by a truck, and beneath him, the floor, became scarce as he began to float. In his blurred vision, he swore he could see himself, even as his body Transformed automatically. In his chest cavity, a heat like no other, wild and invigorating like a performance of ones favorite band, or like rushing into battle for the final blow. It crawled through him, from his chest to his toes, and then bounced back, skyrocketing through his spine, and overtaking his eyes with a shade of black.

The clock read nine forty-seven pm.

He had seven hours, and twelve minutes.

Two stories above, Vlad sat in his chaise, trying to focus on William Golding's "Lord of the Flies" despite the fact that it was the fourth or fifth time reading it, he couldn't recall correctly if he wanted to. But even as he tried to fixate himself over the reading glasses he was sure he didn't need, he found himself furrowing his brow over the tan of the pages, and grabbing the bridge of his nose in regret. He didnt want to say it, he wouldn't allow himself to breathe the words from the prideful tightness of his lips, and because of that, it echoed around in his brain like a child's rattle.

He should have gone after Danny.

He knew the boy was preparing the ritual as he forced himself to read. He knew that he was placing the hot brimstone on the wood of the floor, followed by the bayberry inside a white circle. He knew that he was laying out, heart caught in his stomach, and then to his throat. he knew he was watching the blinds for the sun to disappear before muttering the incantation lowly, and forcing his soul into his own mind.

He knew.

And he had yet to do a thing.

Mentally, he called himself a nancy. He was sitting here, mentally chewing the ends of his fingernails off as he hoped to god that Danny would resurge through his own mind smoothly, and with some new power that could actually put up a fight. But there was a conflict here. Deep within the confines of his gut, he had pride. And in that pride, he found himself, a torrent of anger and attitude of the stuffy small child he knew he was. What was he to do? prattle down there like a whining nanny going to check on the grandchildren she was employed to take care of? Absolutely not. The boy would learn from his actions, and suffer the consequences like any unruly child who would touch too close to the licks of fire. He would learn at his own accord, and bleed like a ruffian if he wanted to act as one.

And as much as Vlad wanted to believe his thoughts, as much as he wanted to watch Danny crawl to the dinner table, bruised, sore and beaten, he knew if he did not intervene, then there would be no Danny.

He flew down the stairs like a bat out of hell.

The second that he realized that something wasn't right, was when he clasped his hand around the brass of the doorknob and the ice cold kiss of death looked up his sleeve and bit him on the neck. The door flung open, bouncing off the wall as it hit, and Vlad took a good look at the boy before he even pressed a gasp from his lungs.

Hovering, he was about four feet off the ground, transformed while the wisps of snowy hair hung towards the floor. His mouth was slightly agape, and his breath, which was heavy and laboured left a puff of vapor as he spoke. Vlad skeeved back a tad, regarding it excessively creepy as so, but upon his face, were the baby blue hues of his eyes should be, were completely a swirling green.

He was too late.

Panic came, less in waves but underso, more of a brick wall that he had been closing in on for a time now. He felt incandescent, but wore the hat of the dunce. In his head, a relapse, an incursion of his faith that would be planted in his heart. He could lose Danny. The boy would pass away with the morning sun, and the blood would be on his own hands. Vlad would be left with a corpse, if even that. No soul to leave behind, no ghost to haunt his dreams. For the first time in his life, Vlad did not know what to do.

But as soon as that idea crossed his mind, reality came to him, and the panic died in his throat like a martyr in the war.

All Vlad could do now was guide him through.

The blazer came off, and the sleeves came up, and the male squared himself, a husk of air coming into his chest while he opened the palms of his hands, and charged them with every ounce of his ghost energy. Rocking back a tad, he came to his knees, and placed his hands on the outer ring of the circle, and exhaling. Immediately the channel of his power, spread through the circle, illuminating the ring and creating a binding through the halfa, Danny, and the circle.

All Vlad could do now is guide him.