Novel & Cerita Only A Ghost Could Save Me

But it didn't last long because my ears picked up the ghosts' haunting whispers behind me. Then I saw him emerge from the shadows. Alpha Damien. I couldn't read his facial expression, but at least I was relieved that someone was going to save me. "Please," I stretched my hand toward him. "Help me. They're coming for me." His gaze looked haunted like one colliding with emotions. "Please, Alpha. Help me." He shook his head, frowning with betrayal. His eyes shone red with rage, leaving me to die. My echoes rippled through the night as the ghosts circled me, trapping me under their spell.

“I’m sorry, Chloe, but I can’t tell you anything about who I am right now, it’s not my place to do so. You’ll get to know who we are eventually, and I’d like to thank you again for helping me in reaching the second stage.” “For what? All I did was screw up and get us killed,” I said, a disappointed expression on my face. “No, you didn’t mess up. As I said earlier, if you hadn’t decided to fight or had the will to do so, I would still be stuck in my old self, not knowing what to do, but thanks to you, I was able to be awake. I apologize for not protecting us. I tried, but I guess I was too weak.” Ghost apologized, and I shook my head.

He stands up. “I would never” I brush the hair out of his eyes. “You saved me Dan” I whisper, kissing his cheek. “You saved me from my parents, you saved me from everyone at school, you saved me from the emptiness threatening to absorb me. But most importantly, you saved me from myself. I can never thank you enough for that” I hug him closer to me. “You make me so happy Kisses” He whispers, taking the pants from my hands. I walk over to my dresser, picking out my clothes for tomorrow and hanging them on my door for easy access.

“When you do your thing what’s stopping the building from crushing you?” I looked at him past my shaking arms and huffed, “Guess it’s a good time to ask which of you is the fastest runner?” Caius looked at Ghost. “You can turn her incorporeal.” “I can’t do shit,” Ghost scoffed. He had removed his shirt awhile ago and was using it to mop the sweat off his body. “Don’t look at me like that, man. You know I’ve never turned anyone before. If I fail then we both die.”

She called out, her voice echoing eerily in the vast emptiness. "Ghost?" she whispered, her voice barely a sound. A chuckle, low and sardonic, filled the darkness. Then, a single figure emerged from the shadows. Tall and shrouded in darkness, its face hidden beneath a hood, this was Ghost.

His eyes, a soft, pleading brown, begged me to see the love in his heart, to choose him, to choose them, to choose a different path. I scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. "A ghost who just answered my call? A ghost who commands the same magic that lives in me? No, he's very real. And he's our only chance." I felt a sense of cold detachment from their emotional pleas. This was not a moment for feelings. This was a moment for survival.

she whispered. He stormed forward, his claws snapping the chains apart effortlessly. "I’ll always find you, no matter how deep they bury you," he said firmly. But when he pulled her close, she didn't move. Her body stayed stiff in his arms. "Vincent," she softly whispered, "what if I'm not the one you’re trying to save anymore?" The shadows grew darker around them as another voice spoke from the corner of the room. "Finally," the ghost said softly. "He admits it."

The sound reverberates through the Throat of Echoes like thunder, like prophecy, like the final word of a god: “The war has already been won.” Every version of me—Tyrant, Martyr, Warrior, Sage, even the flickering Ghost—falls to their knees. The compulsion is absolute, inevitable, written into the very structure of reality. We are moths before a sun that wears our own face. Only Ghost-me remains standing, and she's smiling. "Finally," she whispers, her form growing more solid even as the others fade. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Rain lashed at my face as I watched the white-lightning aura of the Alpha flicker against the dark sea. He had saved me, but the cost was visible in the way he shook, in the way his white eyes wouldn’t settle back to amber. He was winning the battle against the Ghost, but he was losing the war for his mind. “Girard!” I screamed into the wind. He looked up at me from the rocks below, the Ghost’s broken body at his feet. Even from this distance, I could feel the agony my voice caused him. He flinched as if I had struck him, his massive form trembling as he fought the urge to lunge at me—or to run forever.

The shattered phone was not just a piece of broken technology; it was the final, fragile thread of our patience, snapping. The ghost was no longer in the machine. It was in our blood, in our memories, and it was reaching for the one person I had fought so hard to protect.