Page 31 of Ghoul Me, Maybe
It starts with the lights. Not flickering like faulty wiring—but pulsing. Breathing. Like the town itself is waking up in time with our bond. Streetlamps surge brighter when I’m near her. Radios crackle in abandoned stations. Phones ring once—then fall silent with no caller ID.
I’ve been dead long enough to know what coincidence looks like. This isn’t it.
The town’s skin is shifting. Magic’s starting to leak from the cracks I left in the world, and now that she’s part of this—now that we’re... whatever this is—it’s waking up things that should’ve stayed buried.
I’m drifting through alleys when I pass a bakery. The ovens flare to life with no one inside. A mural on the side of the fish shop bleeds fresh paint despite a decade of sun damage. The salt in the air has changed. It tastes sweeter, thicker, like breath before a storm.
And then there’s the animals.
They’ve always seen me. Known me. But now they stare too long. Birds circle me in uneasy spirals. Stray dogs bark until theyfoam and bolt. A fox with too many eyes stood outside Sienna’s window last night.
It’s not just energy.
It’s consequence.
I find her on the cliffs above Wrecker’s Bay, arms crossed, hair whipping in the wind like flame. She doesn’t turn when I approach.
“You feel it too,” she says without looking.
“Yeah.”
She finally turns, and the moonlight carves hollows under her eyes. “It’s not just dreams and maps anymore. The town’s reacting. The magic’s... bleeding out.”
She’s right. There’s something deeper stirring—something the relic bound, and our connection is loosening its leash.
“I scared a raccoon last night,” she adds. “Thing hissed, then straight-up burst into flames.”
I blink. “That’s new.”
She shrugs, tired. “Mira thinks it’s us.”
That makes something cold curl in my gut.
“She said you’re not just tied to the relic. You’re tied tome. Through blood. Through memory. Through...” She hesitates. “Touch.”
I take a step closer. “We’ve touched before.”
“Yeah, but not like this.”
Her voice drops, and I can feel the magic start to rise like heat between us. The air crackles, tugging at the edges of reality.
“Why is it stronger now?” she asks. “Why us?”
“I think the relic picked you before either of us had a say,” I answer. “You were always going to be the key.”
“I didn’t ask for this.”
“I didn’t ask to die,” I reply, voice sharper than intended.
We both recoil a little.
Then she steps forward. “Sorry. I just?—”
“No,” I say, softer now. “I get it.”
A beat of silence.
Then the sky opens.
