Chapter 3: The Keeper's Specialty

So this was it.

It was different than what he imagined, though really he didn't know why. Perhaps he assumed there would be something outwardly defining about it, something that would mark its significance among any other cartridge. But here it was, in his hands. The dull gilt casing had been weathered slightly over the years but still remained somewhat impressively intact. The label, however, had been completely worn off, save for a few flecks of paper clinging here and there to the case. In its place, the word "Majora" had been written with a black Sharpie pen, but even that was beginning to fade away.

It didn't look haunted, but according to the Old Man, things rarely ever did.

"You ready, kid?" the Old Man asked. He looked up, seeing his mentor towering over from where he knelt. The weak lighting of the alter room shadowed his face almost completely, but he could tell he had that sly smile he wore whenever something exciting was about to happen.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Probably not? This still seems like a bad idea, to be honest. I mean, this is kind of impo-"

"Important?" the Old Man interrupted. He then laughed. "Why do you think we're doing this? I can't think of one better person to do this for me." He then crouched down, slowly, to not cause any damage to his aged body. Now looking eye to eye, the younger man could see the smile, just as it looked in his mind.

The younger man frowned. "But," he hesitated, "I'm not you. And there's so much that could go wrong. What if I..." he forced himself to trail off. There were so many things he could do to ruin everything that counting them would take more time than anyone had. He'd been imagining each and every one he could think of since he was first told of this day's coming, and even then he knew that there were many scenarios left unexplored. He wasn't sure if leaving those possibilities unturned was healthy for relieving his tensions or would lead to a devastating miscalculation due to unpreparedness.

The Old Man laughed. "Don't go worrying about that. You've been practising those spells, haven't you?" The younger man nodded, and the Old Man clapped his hands and smiled. "See, you'll be fine!"

It wasn't the spells he was concerned about. He had spent night after night using his gift of defying reality in preparation for this. Some incantations were unable to be studied as much as others considering the nature of them, but he was still able to practice them all to some degree. He'd even gone out of his way to download a not-quite-legal version of the Zelda game on his computer, just so he could be more familiar with the virtual world when seen from the inside. Really, of all the things he feared, a magical slip-up was far from the worst. And he was not one to be overconfident.

"So," the Old Man said with a grin, "You ready now?"

The younger man stared at the cartridge in his hands. It was so small, so inconspicuous. It was so hard to believe a spirit so powerful and so deadly could be calling it home. Slowly he nodded, and let out a shaky breath. He placed the game on the floor between where the two of them both knelt.

Then began the work. The blood raced through his body, his heart forcing it outwards and then letting more inside. He listened to the soft beating, focusing on the flow of the precious liquid.

Tha-thump.

Tha-thump.

In-out.

In-out.

Even and rhythmic. Faster than normal, but that shouldn't matter. It could be a lot worse, he assured himself. He focused all of his attention on the movement in his veins, feeling the energy it used up, the energy it created, and the raw energy imbued within it. The latter was the one he needed. He then paid full attention to that particular energy. Using all the tricks he had been taught since the age of twelve - certain specific mindsets that he eventually caught on to but couldn't begin to actually explain to another - he willed the inherent power away from the flow of his blood.

All this happened in a matter of seconds. At this point, he could see his hands glowing with a white aura, visual proof that he had successfully channelled this energy without killing anything. In his peripheral vision, he could see the Old Man's hands glowing as well, ready to perform the actual spell.

Wasting no time, the younger man began to direct part of the energy to the cartridge. The flimsy case immediately became cloaked in the bright glow, ensuring its participation in the spell. The spell itself was hard to describe in great detail, even to the few in the world able to use such witchcraft. It wasn't a traditional incantation most associated with magic, like advanced alchemy or the elemental arts. It was most closely related to teleportation - multi-universal transportation, to be more specific. Warping from realm to realm was incredibly complicated, however. The young man once doubted that even his older mentor was able to perform it. But, according to the Old Man, it was much more simple when that world was man-made. Instead of visualizing an entire intricate universe, one would only need to focus their magic on the 'buttons and wires,' as the Old Man put it.

Considering that his mentor knew nothing about technology beyond a basic typewriter, the younger man had no clue how he was able to figure all this out. But with something as valuable as that cartridge, the effort must have been entirely worth it.

So just as he was taught to do, and just as he practised many times before, he direct his magical energy not on the outside of the cartridge, but within it, where the small circuit board rested. Small, but far from insignificant. Slowly but not too slowly he added more and more magical energy to the circuit board, making an unearthly light shine through the thin protective casing. More and more and more, oh so steadily, oh so precise.

And then, when he finally had no more raw magical energy left, he gave even more. He offered what still remained in is bloodstream: the energy it used up and the energy it created. And along with it, the body it belonged to.

At last, the easiest part was over.

X

The first thing he noticed was the silence. Most games, or at least the ones he had practised with, were constantly playing music or ambient sounds. Even his emulation of Majora's Mask would play music. But here, there was nothing. No sound at all.

Already, he could tell this game was different from the others.

He found himself in the centre of a strange looking town. It was a somewhat small looking place, with buildings either too old-fashioned or just plain weird looking to actually exist in a modern American town. But this wasn't modern at all, nor was it American or even on Earth. This, he had long since learned, was a fictional place called Termina. Clock Town, to be more specific. Aptly named, considering he arrived facing a giant clock tower that stretched so high it literally almost touched the moon.

It looked the same as the emulated version he practised on. In fact, this was exactly where he would usually arrive when he entered it. How lucky. He'd hate to get lost somewhere, especially now that there was also a powerful spirit existing somewhere in this manufactured universe. For all he knew, he could be being watched at that very moment.

"Hey! You just gonna stand there?"

He quickly whipped around, seeing the grinning face of the Old Man right in front of him. He let out a small, short sigh of relief. The elder laughed out loud, obviously noticing his sudden jumpiness.

As the younger of the two recovered from the slight embarrassment, he saw the Old Man glancing noticeably towards the two oversized doors at the clock tower's base, leading inside. From what he remembered from his emulation, that was where a single NPC would be - their name escaped him - and beyond that, the beginning of the game, which had nothing but a dreary looking woodland forest. Nothing interesting at all. Especially nothing that could entertain a restless spirit. The younger man began to stare at the doorway as well, though with slight confusion and scepticism.

"So," he spoke up, "Where are we going? He's not in there, is he?"

"In the clock tower? Nope." He snickered slightly. "Would'a thought so, though, since it always looks so boring in there. But seems like he's in that tiny forest this time. He'll hang around just about anywhere in this place. You'll figure that out soon enough," he then smiled and winked with his good eye. He wasn't sure if that was supposed to comfort or terrify him. Probably the former, but it wound up achieving an uncomfortable combination of both.

Despite his nerves, he took a hesitant step towards the clock tower doors, and then another. But before he could take a third step, the Old Man grabbed his arm. "Hold on!" He held on. He turned around to face the elder who was still smiling. "You might wanna walk there, and I'll let ya if it's what you want, but I know the way there is a bit more than walking. Call me lazy, or maybe boring, but I'd rather just warp."

The younger one blinked. "Oh. Right." His heart dropped slightly, mourning the missed opportunity to stall and collect himself. He was about to actually meet the protector of the Moon Children. The spirit that dedicates its afterlife to protecting the dignity and overall safety of the organization. And not only would he meet him, but he would finally take over the Old Man's role as the Keeper. Not an easy task, to say the least. Being a spirit, and a child spirit at that, much skill and effort would be needed just to keep him in line. After all, it is in a ghost's nature to spread its chaos and misery indiscriminately. He could easily turn against the Moon Children without even trying. And to make matters even worse, anyone familiar with Jadusable's tragedy knows that this entity in particular was a spectacularly manipulative liar.

For the Old Man and his seemingly infinite wisdom, being the Keeper must have been simple. But for his pupil, who had only been training for thirteen years, even the thought of it was anything but.

He survived difficult training. He completed the Moon Children's rites of passage. He even killed his own father. But this was more stressful than them all.

"So," the Old Man spoke up, "Are we going now?"

The younger man offered a trembling nod. "Y-yeah, sure..."

For whatever reason, the Old Man did not acknowledge the obvious nervousness. "Wonderful!" He clapped his hands together in excitement. "I'll do this spell myself. I'mthe one who can see him, after all." Without wasting a second, his hands began to glow, more and more, quickly engulfing them both. A bright flash, and then they were gone.

X

There was music now. He wasn't exactly sure what to make of that.

At least it was pleasant, he decided. Not the music usually associated with the infamous spirit. No, this was quite pleasant, and undoubtedly being played from beginning to end instead of the other way around. It was very slow and serene, though still somewhat sorrowful. Yet even still, it sounded very beautiful. Perhaps it was the pleasant sound of the ocarina playing it that gave it its graceful tone.

Now he was in the woods. Compared to Clock Town, it was much more dreary despite the lack of a scowling moon. The background seemed to be kept in shadow, and the foreground washed in grey. The only thing close to actual life were the specks of light floating through the air. Were they fairies? Fireflies? Dust motes? There was no way to really tell, but as long as they made the lands look somewhat pretty, he wouldn't question it. The actual trees he could interact with were sparse yet ginormous. There was one with a tunnel carved into it, which would lead to another, and another, until eventually leading to the clock tower. Another tree was not actually a tree at all, but a stump. Still, it was much taller than himself, and much higher than he could climb. Despite its amazing size, it looked like it had been sawed off, leaving the top completely flat. Either the work of giants or graphical limitations.

It looked dismal. Though, he had to admit, the calming music was giving it a different feeling. While he remembered it feeling sad and desolate in his earlier play-through, this seemed somewhat spiritual and tranquil.

Wait, was this song even in the game?

"Hey, Old Man," he asked, "Do you know what song this is? I don't thi-" he stopped himself as he turned around, seeing that his old mentor was not there beside him. He glanced around, but saw nothing at all. No signs of human life. Nothing besides himself, anyways. The woods suddenly were a lot more empty.

This was exactly where they were going. This was where the Old Man meant to warp them both. So why would he be the only one to arrive, especially since he was not the one performing the spell? He glanced around again. Still nowhere to be seen. He could feel his heart begin to beat faster again. He must have done something wrong. He must have moved when he was supposed to stay still, or even let his own magic escape by accident. But the Old Man must have been okay. He must have. But he wasn't there. He was gone. But where? He glanced around again, and again, getting more and more frantic. He became so caught up in his worries that he never noticed the music stop.

"It's called 'Fi's Gratitude.'"

That wasn't the Old Man.

The younger man froze. He now remembered, far too late, that there was something else worth fearing. His body tensed, eyes darting wildly.

"From Skyward Sword," the voice continued. It sounded quite young, like an older child's, yet the tone somehow created the illusion of maturity. "Certain people didn't like that one. But I did. Don't think I could ever dislike a Zelda game."

This was bad. This was very very bad. He couldn't do this without the Old Man. This person - no, this creature - would immediately become the bringer of his demise, and the Moon Children's only method of defence would be lost forever. He needed his mentor. He needed-

No. He would not think like that. He couldn't. There was too much at stake for him to crack under the pressure so soon. This is what he had been training for. If the Old Man said he was ready, then he was ready. He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and stood up tall.

"I'm up here, by the way. Don't think you noticed."

The young man furrowed his eyebrows. So he was in the air? He scoured the sky - a grey, murky sky lacking both sun and moon - but saw nothing. He lowered his gaze to where the few tangible trees were. He didn't need to search much longer after that. He was standing right on top of the oversized tree trunk, peering down at him.

Peering with his red, glowing eyes. It was hard to believe they had gone unnoticed. The unnatural pupils were quite small in size, but they were bright enough to cut clean through the thick haze and bear into him with clean precision. Those eyes were not natural, even for a ghost. And of course the rest of him looked just as strange, or at least he would be if seen by one unfamiliar with that particular spirit's nature. He held a slight resemblance to the protagonist of the game he lived within, with green clothing, blonde hair, and pale skin. However, who played the game could immediately see a difference. His skin was much fairer than it should have been, his hair too dishevelled and knotted, and most noticeably, he did not wear an iconic tunic but rather a simple green sweater with an indistinguishable dark pattern on it. Unearthly eyes aside, he still looked less like the Hero of Time himself and closer to a normal everyday preteen.

It was hard to tell from the distance and the fog, but it seemed as if the boy was smiling at him. Whether it was a welcoming smile or something far more cruel, however, he could not tell. So far, his voice had not displayed any malice, but the young man knew better than to trust someone like him so easily. "You must be the new guy," he said. It didn't sound spiteful, nor friendly. More like he was simply making a statement.

"Yeah. Yes," he said, quickly correcting his informality. "And you're the famous Ben Drowned." He tried to keep his own statement just as neutral as the other had.

"Famous?" Ben pondered. "Interesting."

And then he disappeared.

The young man jumped slightly, hearing the same voice again coming from behind him. "So what kind of nickname did they give you?" He whipped around, seeing the child somehow standing only feet away from him, well past his invisible bubble of safety. He resisted the urge to back away.

"What do you mean?" he asked carefully, hoping that asking it would not imply weakness. He needed the upper hand. Always.

Ben held a deadpan expression. "Insidiae. Nekko. Duskworld. Kelbris. Dumb things like that. You people love your aliases for some reason."

The young man probably would have argued this, calling those names all fakes, had he not recognized one. Kelbris was a famous prophet said to have heard the voice of Luna. Much of the organization's current state is thanks to the words he heard, and the man is still very well-respected even after his unfortunate death. The other names Ben listed did not seem familiar, though if one of them was real then there was a decent chance that the rest were just as real, if not quite as esteemed.

For a moment he considered keeping his pseudonym a secret, but decided that would be both superfluous and counterproductive. "You will call me Ruby," he said, making note to say 'will' instead of 'can.'

For a moment, Ben's expression was unreadable. "Hmm," he sounded quietly, arms folding across his chest. His eyes scanned up and down, red lights moving freely inside the otherwise hollow sockets. 'Ruby' realized, with a hint of dread, that he was being scrutinized. "A bit girly," he finally said, "But that's not too bad, compared to others. Short, memorable, and easy to pronounce. I think rubies might be pretty strong, too." He then smiled a strange sort of crooked smirk. "I think I like it. Good job."

The strange sense of relief he felt in that moment could only be outshone by the obvious degrading overtone. Ruby knew that he should have snapped, or scolded, or something. But part of him wanted to start out on good terms with Ben to avoid future conflict. But another part of him knew that the situation would probably force them to be enemies anyways. Part of him didn't want to be constantly policing the spirit on silly things like phrasing. Part of him felt like he was being a complete pushover, letting himself get walked all over. Part of him felt bad for punishing someone who looked so young and even innocent. Part of him knew this ghost was much older than 12, and knew that he was in every way a killer. Part of him had faith that, despite everything, this person still deserved kindness. Part of him understood that such kindness could ultimately end the Moon Children entirely.

Mostly, he was just tired, frustrated, and lost.

Looking back now, Ruby had a real habit of over-thinking things. It probably kept him alive, all things considered.

"Stop looking like that."

Ruby suddenly lurched away from his thoughts, now seeing the child-like spirit frowning at him with his arms still crossed. He glared at him in an irritated sort of way; the same expression one would wear when their patience wore too thin, or a number of small annoyances were starting to take their toll. Who knew those eyes could still be so expressive? "Looking like what?" Ruby asked, unaware he was looking like much of anything.

Ben shot him an annoyed glance. "That look. The one you have right now."

Ruby blinked. He really had no idea what else to say. If he was wearing any sort of expression that might irritate or offend the spirit, it must have been a very small detail for him to be unaware. "I... I think that might just be my face..."

The ghost sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. But then, when looking off to the side, he froze for a brief moment. Then his posture changed, just slightly, but still noticeable enough to raise suspicion. His arms remained crossed at his chest, but his shoulders began to slump, and his head bowed down ever so slightly. His eyes glanced around for a moment before making eye contact with Ruby once again. "You're scared of me."

Of all the things that could have been said, that was far from what he expected. "What?" he blurted out. Ben remained in his new, slightly more submissive posture, but his expression was unreadable. "I'm not scared of you. Not at all," Ruby lied somewhat convincingly.

Ben darted his eyes again, giving Ruby the idea to do the same. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but the ghost still looked bothered. "Good," Ben said, "'Cause you shouldn't be," he raised his bowed head just a little bit higher. "That's not how it works." His smirk was so small it was barely noticeable. But still just enough.

Ruby opened his mouth, only to immediately bite his own tongue. It only then dawned on him that Ben was may have been trying to play some sort of mind game with him. "What's going on, Ben?" he spoke sternly, "What are you doing?" His voice, as soft as it was naturally, managed to sound somewhat commanding and powerful, to his own surprise.

The smirk was immediately erased. What was left was an expression that could be best described as 'displeased'. The glow in his eyes almost seemed to flicker a bit. "He's testing us," he said softly, maybe even dejectedly. Ruby was taken aback by the sudden change in attitude, eyes widening. This was the first time Ben sounded less than in complete control. "Probably having a good laugh about it. And I think I know who's the butt of the joke."

"I see," said Ruby, who was not quite sure what the other was referring to at all. But still he nodded confidently, hoping that Ben was finally starting to let his guard down, assuming it was up from the beginning. In truth, he had no idea what to make of the boy at all, or if the way he was acting right then was anything like how he usually acted. All he knew was that this ghostly entity was very very peculiar.

He was probably going to be a handful.

"I see the two of you have gotten yourselves acquainted already."

That was the Old Man. Ruby whipped his head to the side, now seeing his old mentor standing a few feet away with a wide crooked grin. He was sure his own face looked nearly the same. He nodded excitedly.

The Old Man let out a loud guffaw that echoed across the now silent woodlands. Ruby let out a sigh of relief, glad to finally be hearing that familiar laugh once again. He had been so wrapped up in Ben and not making any mistakes that he had no opportunity to properly worry for the others well-being. He knew he was probably smiling like an idiot. Nothing could go wrong now.

The laughter eventually dwindled into a slight chuckle. "So what do you think, Ben?" said the Old Man, "You gonna beg me to stay a little longer?" Ruby turned towards the young spirit.

He looked absolutely livid.

His hands, still crossed tightly across his chest, were balled up into fists. His whole body looked tense and still like a statue. The glow of his eyes brightened, his deep glare burning into the Old Man with passion. "He can stay," he spat out, clearly making an attempt to keep a clam, level voice and clearly failing. The boy, as young as he appeared, actually seemed quite intimidating in that moment. As if at any moment he would turn the entire universe against them both and have them destroyed without a second's thought. Which he could probably do, if the two of them were not also powerful in their own ways.

The Old Man laughed. "I thought you'd say so! Now what do you say, kid? Think you can handle it?"

Ruby clenched his teeth together only to avoid having his jaw hang open. His brain was turning out a million questions per second, all directed towards the boy in green standing right next to him. The spirit had acted strange before then, no doubt about it. But for the most part he had chalked it up to simple mind games, all trying to manipulate him in some way. But what he had just seen appeared to be pure anger fuelled by nothing. The Old Man did nothing. Nothing of offence, anyways. So why would Ben react that way when he finally appeared. Whatever the answer was, it was completely and totally beyond his comprehension.

"Hey kid! You still in there?" the Old Man snickered. Ruby felt himself blushing.

Ben, however, was much less amused. He groaned audibly, still scowling. "Can we just get this over with?" he said impatiently, as if he had anywhere to actually be. Maybe he did. But that didn't make it any less rude.

The Old Man's smile widened. "Ah, right. I nearly forgot about that, to be honest. Didn't think you'd be so eager about it, seeing how much you loved it last time."

Ben huffed. "The sooner you're done here, the better."

The smile softened just a bit. "I'll miss you too, Ben." He then turned back to Ruby. "You remember the spell for the eyes, right?"

Ruby nodded hesitantly. He knew of the spell well enough, but whether or not he was entirely confident about performing it was another question completely. It was, according to the Old Man, simpler than one would assume, but he said that about every spell. The idea of this spell was that the recipient would have their eyes replaced with new enchanted ones. While the new eyes would seem exactly the same for said recipient, the one who casts the spell would be able to use the eyes as a sort of permanent tracking device. They would always know exactly where the other person was, no matter how far they were or how fast they were going. Unfortunately, there were reasons it could not truly be practised beforehand. The spell basically destroyed the original eyes, which is incredibly painful for the recipient no matter what. On top of that, the new eyes did not look the same as the old ones, and while the true effects of the spell could be reversed, the way they looked could not be. For the rest of their lives, or afterlives, their eyes could only be black bottomless voids, the darkness only interrupted by two red glowing pupils.

"Just do it already," said Ben, whose patience was clearly dwindling. He finally uncrossed his arms from his chest, letting them fall to his sides.

The Old Man, of course, chuckled. "You'd better start doing it, before he gets too cranky," he joked. Ben shot another nasty look at him, which he ignored fully.

Ruby let out a long, shaky breath. He stepped forward, towards the spirit, so that his face was well within arms reach. He scanned him and down, noticing how he had now taken a rather defensive stance. He also now noticed more clearly the dark patterns on the front of his green sweater. It wasn't an abstract design at all. They were stains.

Bloodstains.

"Calm down, Ben," the Old Man called out. "Maybe it won't hurt the second time." Although he couldn't see him, Ruby could practically hear the grin plastered on his mentors face.

So if it isn't obvious, the rest of this chapter might be a tad bit graphic for some people. This is your chance to leave. The reason I include these details at all is because, on the off chance that someone actually believes my story, that person needs to know the entire truth. I know most of you will just assume this is just another dime-a-dozen Creepypasta fanfiction, and I don't hold anything against you for that. But I can't lie about what happened just because someone won't like it. Trust me, I'm not recounting this because I want to.

Ruby stared at Ben's face. The spirit's expression was unreadable. He was sure his own was much more transparent. He breathed deeply, feeling the magical energy once again channelling to his hands. He looked into his glowing eyes, watching their faint rhythmic flickering. They were almost calming, in a strange way. Like a small candle in a dark room.

And then he reached inside.

Everything turned to chaos.

He just needed to focus. Just remember the steps - simple, easy steps. Just keep thinking about the process, the flow of magic, the transformation of both energy and matter. Just undo the Old Man's sorcery and replace it with his own. Remember how to drain away the old and replace with the new, how to meld his magic into the eye. If he focused on the spell, he wouldn't notice anything else.

He wouldn't notice anything. Not the screams, even though they sounded more agonized than anything he'd ever heard before – including his own initiation into the Moon Children. He paid no heed to how they echoed across the woods and stung in his own ears. No, no, he wouldn't listen to it. He was too focused.

Though, admittedly, he was shocked by the blood. It turned out he could somehow inflict so much pain that he caused a bloodless creature to bleed. But that was magic. Still he ignored it, even when it poured onto his hand and down his arm. He was concentrating too hard to notice it soak the dead boy. Even when it poured down Ben's face and into his mouth, occasionally turning the agonized screams into pathetic, choked gurgles.

Finally, after taking much longer than he would have liked, he was done. He took his hand out of the socket, freeing Ben from his grasp. The spirit was still shouting, but much more weakly this time. He was bent over, facing the ground.

"...Ben?" Ruby said softly, very softly. Shakily, Ben glanced back up at him with his free eye while clutching the other, his face caked in red. This was no longer the demigod he spoke to earlier. This person had no power in him.

And then he stuck his hand inside the other socket.

No time to regret. No time to doubt. He just needed to get it right. Focus focus focus. Even when Ben's legs finally buckled, sending him to the ground, he still did it perfectly. He bent right down to the forest floor with him, his hand never leaving the gushing socket. He ignored the child's pain. He had no idea he was even hurt.

Except he did.

And it made him nearly break.

After what felt like two separate eternities, he finally completed the spell on both eyes. He retracted his hand and stood up, leaving the child kneeling on the ground, hands crumpled onto his lap. He made absolutely no sound whatsoever, but his body continued to shudder and tremble as if caught in an icy wind. His face was painted red, with thick streams still flowing from the tattered sockets like gruesome tears. The dark patterns on his green sweater had expanded, now making it look brownish-black with strange green patterns. The rest of the blood fell onto the ground, where it pooled around him.

"Huh," the Old Man mused, "Looks like it does hurt the second time." He was still grinning from ear to ear.

Ben shuddered. "J-just... l-l-leave..." he croaked weakly.

Ruby could hardly believe Ben Drowned, guardian of the Moon Children, could do something 'weak' at all. And because of him, no less. He could barely look at the suffering spirit. He forced his gaze downwards, only to see the same red on his own hands. He winced, and looked back at Ben.

The Old Man shrugged. "If you say so," he said simply. He then turned to Ruby. "You'd better hold onto that cartridge from now on, kid. Don't think he'll want me around again for a long time."

Ruby was just barely listening. He couldn't take his eyes off of Ben.

His fists already glowing with pure magic, the Old Man called out to his pupil. "C'mon, kid. Trust me, you won't want to stick around to see him angry."

But still Ruby ignored him. "Ben?" he said quietly, as if his own voice could cause another wave of pain throughout the spirit's body. "Ben, I... I'm sorry," he said with as much warmth and empathy as he could display. "I'm so sorry," he repeated.

Ben stayed still, his shaking now beginning to ease. He stared down at the ground for what felt like minutes. But then, finally, he turned his head to look directly at Ruby. He still seemed to cry tears of blood, but the light in his eyes, while they should have been no different, now seemed much, much, much brighter than ever before.

"Don't be."

It was like Ben had shot him in the chest.