Ghost Island Survivor Novels & Stories

Then the rider lifted both hands. Not in surrender. With caution. Like someone approaching a wounded animal. Their voice came out distorted through a modulator. “Ghost,” they said softly. Everything inside me stilled. Only three people ever called me that. One was dead—Saint. One should’ve been dead—Shade. And the third… The third was an ally long buried in the dark. A ghost from my old life. The rider reached up and slowly—very slowly—removed their helmet. My breath caught.

“Thanks. So what do we have here?” Bryan asked his partner, who pointed at one of the eight frames on the laptop screen, which was relaying the live feeds of hidden cameras that were set up in strategic places around the harbor. Looking at the screen, he saw three Latinos unloading some crates from a speed boat at the pier. From where the boat was, there was an open space about half the size of a football field, which was surrounded by shipping containers that were stacked on one another. Looking closer, he saw that each of the men had viper tattoos on different parts of their body.

"Hmm! Good! Felix boi. You know that Ghost Busters never post any fake content. We are known for our genuine content. It's totally against our rules to show any fake content to the public. And, for few months, wherever we investigated, we just didn't get any shreds of evidence and much to show to the public. This not only made our viewers disinterested but they started getting bored. And, if this keeps going on then..." "I see! Then? You didn't come up with any solution?" "You think there's any solution Felix boi? It's against our rules to show any fake content. What can we do else? Our continuous downfall of the viewers has made the channel reconsider our show. Ghost Busters was the show cr

Veilkeeper alerts do not sound unless something is very wrong. The screen on the wall lights up, filling with maps and data streams. Red markers flash over a familiar region. Alaska. My stomach drops. “That is not possible,” I whisper. The marker pulses over the location of the destroyed facility. The place where Theo and Scottie were swallowed by the collapse. The place that should be nothing but rubble and ice. A Veilkeeper analyst appears on the screen, face pale. “We detected a dimensional anomaly,” she says. “Low level, but active. Same signature pattern as Theo.”

“Nothing we haven’t bled before. The tricky part is their digital perimeter. That’s where the ghost gets handsy.” Aria. Kael’s jaw ticked. Since the tower, every time his people had poked a Siren system, they’d found the same ghost signature—non‑Siren code, riding interference. It never attacked. It simply… nudged. Diverted alarms, blurred tracks. Turned traps a few degrees off. “Any sign of her?” Kael asked. He didn’t clarify who he meant. Dima didn’t ask.

"Then she's probably better equipped to be in that situation than anyone else." Grant nodded. "Then let's do it. Let's look for Liman. You think that'll be easier?" Ghost spun toward the computer. "He's a government official visiting another nation. He's going to be much easier to track." "Who's your human tether?" "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you." Ghost glanced up. "Literally speaking." Who was it that Ghost was this protective over? So far the man had been more machine than human. It was interesting to learn otherwise.

They had spent the night scouting the northern coastal ridges, and the report they brought was not one of peace. "The ghost ships are real, Dad," Leo reported, his voice a deep and resonant rumble that made the obsidian beneath his paws vibrate. "They aren't made of wood or steel. They are massive shards of black ice: floating graveyards that move against the current. We counted three of them drifting toward our perimeter before we had to pull back.". "They are carrying the Void Howl into the water," Toby added, his kinetic energy nearly breaking the sound barrier as he paced the pier. "The resonance near the shore is already starting to turn grey. It feels like the ocean is trying to hold i

I reached out and pressed the radio button on the steering wheel. My voice was cold, cutting through the static. "Mason Vale, do you see a ghost in your mirror?" I said coldly into the radio. Those words pierced straight through Mason's last line of composure. His car hesitated for an obvious instant on the straight. Now. I smashed the throttle down. The car tore through the air and pulled alongside him. Ahead was a chain of fast S-curves. Seeing that I was about to pass, a vicious look flashed through Mason's eyes.

"A ghost doesn't leave digital footprints in a high-security relay, Chalida. Ghosts don't have secondary signatures." Pim tapped the screen with trembling fingers, her eyes darting between the fluctuating lines of the code. "This user is actively scrubbing our location, yet they’re leaving breadcrumbs. Why?"

As Greta tried to talk herself out of walking across, she stepped up to the edge of the water while she looked off distantly towards that island and the mystery it held. The moment broke for her when Eric’s hand came to rest on her elbow, pulling her back to reality and away from the haunting scene. “Let’s get this on record. I think we now know there’s more than just a rumour of a ghost. We have proof that there’s at least one spirit and hints at a few untold stories. Let’s go get warm and form a real game plan.” With a frustrated groan Greta followed the tall man back to the Inn on the other side of town where warmth and a laptop welcomed them.