Illumi Phantom Troupe Novels & Stories

Black as midnight. A phantom.

Amy bends to pick up the books and gazes up for a moment at the place where she is most out of her element—she didn’t have any element to begin with, she tells herself. A sign at the entrance of the school reads in gleaming paint and well-ordered lettering: VALLEY HIGH. A few months ago, some graduating students had gotten a ladder and had added the words, ‘of the Shadows of Death’ to the school sign, making it the Valley of the Shadows of Death High School. Amy thinks it ironic, and although the paint had already been cleaned off and the sign repainted—even though the students were never caught—you could still make out the washed-out painted scrawl should you ever decide to search for it on

I NEED to know who he is, and something tells me I won’t discover much if I approach him as Phantom Reaper. I don’t really even know who I actually am, to be honest. I never indulged in friendships or relationships with others. It’s just always been survival. The only person I had any kind of positive relationship was my mother. I don’t know my father but because of my hair color, I’m fairly certain my father was Christian Bartoa. I know he frequented the slave cells whenever he was bored, and the urge arises so it doesn’t surprise me, but I don’t intend to ever claim him nor carry his surname. The thought of actually SPEAKING to Damien makes me feel a weird sense of anxiety. I’m unsure if i

Underneath the tattoos that littered Shirley and Carl's bodies, scars told the story of what they did for the mate bond. Carl was one of few humans that were a part of the troupe. Typically the humans who joined didn't last long. They would just vanish one day, leaving behind their possessions and usually a little bit of blood. I didn't know exactly what happened to them, but I had enough sense to stay away from them and not ask questions about what happened. They could have been red-lighted, or they pissed off the wrong werewolf. Everyone turned a blind eye to it; it was the safest thing to do.

His wink is quick, magnetic, before he kneels, flexing his muscles. I watch, transfixed, as the ten men dissolve into shadows, waifs that dance into the wind. They spiral around him, then sink into his back, disintegrating into the black markings of the tribal tattoo etched across his skin. The last shadow smooths into his vertebrae, and Phantom rises, body taut, power humming beneath his flesh. “Those guards are a part of you? Is that why your parents named you Phantom?”

They were willing to spend a fortune to turn me into the number one beauty influencer in their world. The NPCs were all incredibly supportive of me building my own career. "Luna, go for it!" "Show the entire underworld what beauty looks like!" With that kind of encouragement, my confidence soared. A week later, I launched my very first makeup live stream on PhantomGram. The moment I went live, the room was flooded by ghosts who had rushed in after hearing the news. "This is the makeup artist from The Devil's Bride. She's actually livestreaming. Hurry up and learn from her!"