Ghost Lights Webtoon Novels & Stories

He wasn’t summoning beasts. He was dragging the in-between into the now. Cracks tore open in the sky. The air turned sharp, cold, wrong. Ghosts spilled through the veil—wolves, twisted and lost, turned half-mad by unfinished lives. Not just spirits. These were memories that had forgotten they’d died. They surged toward me. I roared, driving my dagger into the ground. A ring of light exploded outward. The ghosts wailed, some vanishing instantly, others dragged back into their graves by unseen hands.

I had no choice, so I dug through every gift Zoe had ever given me, but I found nothing. Just when I was about to give up, I shook a pillow, and a tiny paper figure floated out. Its face was drawn to resemble Lucas, and his birth details were written on the back! The fortune teller exclaimed, “That’s it! The lock and the paper figure work together, and since you've touched the lock, the effect on you is stronger. Luckily, you found it early.” I broke out in a cold sweat. That same day, I slipped the paper figure under Miles’ pillow and instructed my parents to watch him while he slept.

But your mother's about to die—I know you'll show up. Her words jolted me back to reality. I pressed a hand to my chest, where my heart ached with a dull, numbing pain. How I wished I could tell her myself. That I've been here all along. It's just that... I've been dead for four years.

She lunged at me, her face a sickly pale green, her eye sockets empty black pits. I stood my ground. "He's not coming back," I said softly. "You can be at peace now." The ghost froze. Her shoulders trembled, and she let out a faint whimper, as if a great weight had been lifted. The black mist around her dissipated. Her form turned faint, then transparent, until she dissolved into a wisp of light that drifted toward the rose bushes. Lorenzo's eyes lit up. "Damn, where'd you learn that trick?"

Tank submitted gracefully as Luna began her careful magical examination. Through the spelled pin, Ghost felt her confidence returning as she worked. Her fear was still there, but it no longer controlled her. Instead, it drove her to learn more, to grow stronger, to protect what she loved most. "Uncle Ghost?" she called without looking up from her healing. "Will you tell stories while I work? The ones about you and Uncle Tank being young and stupid?" Both men chuckle as she concentrated on healing Tank more. "Hey now," Tank protested while Ghost laughed.

"I actually heard that the Moon Crawler lost her mind and cheesed off on Melpomene, his Highness's 'sister'!" Paige chinwagged, her face blooming red from laughter. "Poor her, she must not know that the evil day is the Cold Night!" Paige guffawed and shortly later, Mario joined her and soon both were lost in their world. With a heart skipping a beat, Amethyst staggered back, taken aback by the news she had just informally received. "The Cold Night?! A night where all the ghosts wake up, with her glowing skin, the world might die…!" Amethyst curled her fingers around her neck, her figure began trembling as soon as her mind was captured by poisonous thoughts.

*]:pointer-events-auto scroll-mt-[calc(var(--header-height)+min(200px,max(70px,20svh)))]" dir="auto" data-turn-id="88630483-7eb5-4271-b05b-c60c7df0102d" data-testid="conversation-turn-186" data-scroll-anchor="true" data-turn="assistant"> The silence after the Ghost’s disappearance felt heavier than the gunfire. Like the air itself was holding its breath.

Even if she did, she'd blame it on the wind. "Ghost?" Sharon was becoming concerned, "I thought you don't believe in such things?" "Really? Oh, em." Geneva cleared her throat and spoke confidently, "that's true, I am not scared by flimsy things such as ghooosts!" The last word Sharon heard was the word 'ghosts' being screamed into her eardrums before she heard nothing else. The phone had fallen and disassembled and the call, disconnected.

The nightmares did not stop. Every night, the ghosts came. My mother, her face twisted into a mask of shadow, her voice accusing. Kaelen, his eyes black, his hands reaching for my throat, his fingers cold. Lorna, her white hair wild, her crown of thorns dripping blood that sizzled where it touched the floor. Marcus, laughing, always laughing, his black eyes watching me from the corners of my dreams, his voice whispering that I would never be free.

She blinked against the brightness, pushing herself up slowly, trying to shake off the haze of broken dreams. And then she froze. At the foot of her bed stood a figure. Its face was pale and sunken, blackened veins twisting across skin stretched too thin, eyes hollow pits staring straight into her soul. For a moment, Chloe thought her breath had stopped. Then the scream ripped free from her throat, raw and piercing, shattering the fragile calm of morning. The ghost did not move. It only stared.