Undertale Ghost Novels & Stories

"I won't let them harm us." Aunt Cleo's voice sliced through the air like a warning bell, her words laced with urgency and gravity. "Aqua, you need to grasp the true threat of the coven. They're not just ordinary casters. Each possesses unique abilities, ranging from unnaturally swift regeneration and inhuman strength to the sinister power to manipulate creatures and even people, turning them into spies. Some even boast of an unnerving form of immortality, extending their lives far beyond the natural order. And worst of all, they have the terrifying capability to absorb the powers of other casters."

But few knew he harbored a secret capable of upending the entire arcane world. A burning candle stood before him. Yet the scent it released was strange—eerily similar to the Ghost Candles found in Willowstead. Spirits were drawn to the scent of Ghost Candles. When unable to feed on living souls, they relied on this incense to remain aware. Without it, they would drift into believing they were dead. It was no longer clear whether Sylas was a man or a ghost. He sniffed the candle's fragrance hungrily, as if his very life depended on it.

Ghosts don't. Elowen's ghost reached out, translucent fingers brushing Tessa's cheek. Cold swept the room, herbs wilting on their strings. 'The guild hunts your truth, descendant. Your blood breaks curses—or binds them eternal. Choose, before they find you.' She faded then, dissolving into mist, leaving silence heavy as stone.

He tried to trace the IP; the Ghost bounced the signal off a satellite in Antarctica, a toaster in Tokyo, and a library in Brazil. But Altair was Vespera Thorne’s son. He didn't just know code; he knew architecture. He realized the Ghost wasn't trying to steal the money. The Ghost was leaving a tag. Altair stopped fighting. He watched the Ghost reach the center of the vault. It didn't take the billions. It simply planted a flag—a small, ASCII art skull—and vanished. CONNECTION TERMINATED. The room went silent. The red lights faded back to blue. "Damage report," Altair asked.

he murmured. The voice returned—closer this time. “Turn back before the curse claims you.” Elara swallowed hard. A test. This place had been abandoned for decades, yet something still lingered here, guarding its secrets. She squared her shoulders. “We don’t have time for riddles,” she called into the dark. “Show yourself.” A moment passed. Then—a flicker of movement. Pale, spectral figures emerged from the tunnel walls like mist forming into shapes. Ghosts. Their hollowed-out faces and empty eyes flickered with magic, remnants of those who had died within these cursed tunnels.

Then—a low, dry voice echoed from the shadows. “You look older.” Liam’s hand went to his sidearm. “That’s rich coming from a ghost.” A man emerged from the shadows behind the altar. Gaunt. Pale. Wrapped in layers of torn clothing and an old military coat, his face mostly hidden beneath a hood. His eyes—icy blue—gleamed with feral intelligence. “You brought company,” Ghost said, stepping forward slowly. “That’s new. I thought you preferred to work alone. Or are you finally in over your head?”

It is the only way to request a job be done by me since there is no way to reach me, a precaution I took to avoid being assassinated or discovered myself. No one knows what I look like and no one knows where I live. The name given to me at birth, Tessa, was buried that day ten years ago when I began running. Instead, I use many different aliases for the purchase of my many safehouses scattered around the Underworld. I’ve developed my costume over time, and I’d like to think I look pretty badass. I wear a skintight, full body, black outfit. A mask always covers the sharp features of my face, only revealing my piercing emerald-green eyes which are cast in the shadow of a black hood I wear. I h

Dante asked. "Where is what?" "Your endgame. Your leverage. Whatever you've prepared that made you think you could survive this long." Ghost coughed. Blood sprayed across his chin. "I don't have an endgame," Ghost said. "I never did. I just wanted you to understand something." "What?"

She explained to Zena. Then Elisia cut herself on the palm and pour drops of blood on the amulet. When Zena put a pinch of shadow dust, the pendant lit up. "Oh! It's still working!" Elisia exclaimed. Then a hologram of a creature appeared. "Greetings! My name is Got, a ghoul. I will connect you to the Underworld. Who do you need to speak to?" Elisia was amazed. Like Zena said the amulet was like a phone that would connect you to Acheron.

I whispered, the name tasting like cold ash. From the black-emerald light of the Ziggurat, a new figure stepped out—not a god, and not a machine, but a Revenant of the Foundry, his skin still charred by my sunset-gold fire, his eyes glowing with the hollow, blue light of a Man who has already been through Hell. "Welcome back to the Foundry of the Soul, Darlene," Silas growled, his voice a perfect mirror of my own nightmares. "It’s time to find out if the 'Queen' can survive the Ghosts she thought she had Buried."