Ghosts Graphic Novels & Stories

An ear-piercing whimper sounded, as if a hundred ghosts were crying at night. In the surging black clouds, a horrible ghost face covered hundreds of miles. It had a blue-masked assassin with fangs and black eyes. It bit toward Caspian and swallowed up Caspian in an instant. All the ghost shadows around suddenly burst into cheers and roars. They gathered toward the ghost face in a mighty manner, like sharks that smelled the blood. They swarmed up and tried to tear Caspian into pieces. The face instantly expanded hundreds, thousands of times!

As the battle reached its climax, the ghosts unleashed their most potent attacks, swirling around the warriors with an eerie grace. The air crackled with energy, each swing of a sword accompanied by an ethereal howl. Fatigue gnawed at their bodies, but their determination burned brighter than ever. Suddenly, a blinding light burst forth from the heart of the chamber, engulfing the combatants in its radiance. The ghosts let out a final shriek before dissolving into the nothing, their malevolent presence vanquished.

Or maybe Mike thought the wards were enough. Inside, the outpost was cramped but organized. File boxes stacked against walls. A desk covered in papers and maps. Equipment I recognized from Kelly's facility, medical and mystical combined. And photos. Dozens of photos pinned to a cork board that covered one entire wall. Photos of Ghost Wolves. Most were old, grainy images that looked like they'd been copied from historical records. Ghost Wolves in various stages of transformation. Anatomical diagrams. Notes about power manifestation and control. But three photos were recent. High quality. Taken with modern equipment.

Kael's pov I close my eyes as Ghost pushes against my skull hard enough to split the bone. The pressure rolls through me in waves, each one darker than the last. Images slam into my mind one after another. Torn limbs……Crushed bodies…….Blood sprayed across the floor. Ghost shows me all of it, a promise of what he plans to do. “I will bathe in that wolf’s blood whether you like it or not”, he snarls. My teeth grind. “Then you’ll condemn us both to death.”

They were both staring at us, as though they could see through the camera. “See you soon, little niece,” Phoenix mouthed. I stumbled back just as Ghost's system flashed a beeping red interface and everything went black.

“You’re a ghost, Adrian. Nothing more.” The hologram flickered again, breaking apart into shards of light before reforming, closer this time, as if he were stepping forward through the air. The illusion of depth made the audience recoil. “Ghosts exist because someone remembers them,” Adrian said. “And you’ve never stopped remembering me.” The temperature in the room dropped. I could see my breath fog in the air. The energy grid was overloading, rerouting power from environmental systems to keep the hologram stable. Every light fixture trembled faintly, caught between flicker and failure.

He didn't know why, but he changed the words he originally intended to scare her with when they reached his lips. "Ghosts are illusions created by the mind. Due to illness, fatigue, and stress, the human brain can momentarily lose track of the body's position." "Shut up, I just asked you if there are ghosts. Who let you talk to me about scientific principles?" Clearly a fragile woman seeking comfort, yet she still extended her sharp claws to scratch people. Riley cleared his throat and withdrew his scattered thoughts, slowly retracting the strength he had poured in, silently. Bianca felt the weight on her shoulder disappear and glared at Riley again.

Warm blood slides down my cheek as the ache swells and throbs. The shadows gather, their forms flickering in and out of focus. Four silhouettes emerge, closing in with unnatural slowness, their movements dragging through the air like figures wading through water. They hover at the edge of my vision, shifting and distorting, a pack of vengeful ghosts drawn together by hunger. “There’s nowhere to run, Tabitha Huxley…” Their mouths stretch into impossible smiles as they advance, teeth gleaming too white in the dark. NO!

“Already there.” Sparks arced from the west tower as his team cut their own lines; if the enemy wanted to chew on our nerves, they’d get dead cables and a shock for dessert. Ghost’s people used grapnels to haul up the chassis of a heavier drone, ripping its belly open and feeding it grenades until it coughed smoke. “Eyes on ground,” Ghost said. “They’re not just machines.”

“I was in and out of sleep.” “Thoughts of Titanic?” He turned to face her now, and he was sitting more closely than she thought prudent. “Sometimes,” she shrugged. “Most of my ghosts reside elsewhere.” He closed his eyes and turned his head away. “I’m sorry, Meg.” “I don’t need your sympathy either,” she reminded him, though her tone was just as innocent as his had been. “I suppose not,” he admitted, turning back to face her. “But you have it just the same.”