He neared the deepest depths of the cave and was dismayed to stumble upon piles and piles of bones, all in rather alarming stages of decay.

…Bones……this isn’t good.

Noël’s voice hitched at the sight.

Not good at all; I can’t stay here—

A high-pitched, carefree giggle broke the silence. Standing atop the throne of bones was a small translucent figure. Dressed in ancient attire reminiscent of a pauper from A Christmas Carol, the child looked horrendously out of place in such a garish home for the dead.

Within the pitch black walls of the grotto, the ghost child looked almost alive.

Smiling pleasantly, he hopped down from the precarious bone structure…

Step by step, the ghost child lightly treaded upon the dirt ground. Noël remained in place. Unwavering and yet, somewhat apprehensive of the specter.

As the ghost’s nonexistent footsteps fell to a stop, an unmistakable emptiness and sense of longing could be seen plain as day on his face. Though, the phantom had regarded Noël with nothing but polite apathy.

“Excuse me, but why did you bring me here?” The vampire inquired curiously, fiddling with the hem of his coat. His voiced wavered nervously. “Are you…one of those bones?”

The translucent figure nodded.

“Oh…would you like me to bury you?” Noël promptly asked as he slowly walked over toward the large pile of bones. It truly was an unpleasant sight, considering how the tower of discarded remains nearly scraped the roof of the grotto.

“I miss my sister.”

“I’m sorry…?” the vampire responded…though his voice tapered off at the end.

“My older sister; it’s been so long since I’ve seen her.” The ghost pleasantly stated in a wistful tone. He continued to stare expectantly at Noël. While his mouth did not move and the declaration appeared to have bounced off the walls—

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It felt as if the voice was everywhere and nowhere all at once…

The sorrowful words were undoubtedly uttered by the ghost child. It’s getting tedious to refer to him as ‘ghost child’…

The ghost paused his story and looked at Noël. His pale, lifeless, hollow eyes were marred with grief—as if he had one day woken up and discovered the world to be in ruins. And, considering his current state of decomposition, that was more than likely the case.

“Do you have a name?” Noël asked. The ghost merely laughed quietly in response. While soft and faint, there was a tinge of iciness to his voice. It reminded Noël of being lost in a frigid blizzard or icicles forming from frost coated tree branches in the dead of winter.

“We don’t get names,” the spirit responded callously. Indifferently. “If I had a name, I wouldn’t remember it now.”

“Would you like me to give you one?”

The ghost merely threw his head back and laughed again. “People like you can only take and take and take.”

“What makes you think you can help me?” the ghost asked cheerfully.

“I’m sorry.” Noël immediately responded, voice passive and devoid of emotion.

“Haha…do you know what you’re even apologizing for?” the ghost child chided as he gazed back at the tower of bones. “Words have power, don’t you know?”

“I truly am sorry.”

“The more you give away a word without any thought, the less power it holds,” the ghost lightly admonished. “Like, what if you tell someone you love them? It’s all fine and dandy, but—”

“Does it truly count if you can’t save them in the end?” the ghost’s voice falters.

“Please tell me what I can do for you,” Noël responded, face devoid and blank of any emotion. “I won’t leave you alone, otherwise.”

“Funny…are you doing this out of guilt? Or because you value your life so little?”

“Perhaps.”

The ghost looked pointedly at Noël. “Can you bring the dead back to life?”

“No response.”

“Would you bring my sister back to life if you could?”

Noël’s tired eyes darted back towards the ghost child. He…did not like where this was going. Though, he couldn’t quite blame the ghost for asking such a question. “No comment.”

“Oh, of course you wouldn’t do that for me.” The ghost’s voice hitches into a strained laugh. “Your aunt killed her, so why would you ruin her hard work? You’re all the same.”

“……”

“And now, you won’t even acknowledge what she’s done!” The ghost laughed almost hysterically.

Noël regarded the ghost’s accusations with indifference.

Or, well…more like—

Confusion.

Noël was certainly aware of the rumors whispered by the townspeople whenever he was outside with his dear aunt. Such as how the scent of blood and decay would follow his aunt, how hollow her eyes were, or how frigid her voice was. Though, he never had an easy life—he could barely remember the Sauer twins or his mother and father for goodness sakes! His beloved Aunt Delia was the only constant in his cruelly long life.

No one would be able to appreciate her kindness as much as him.

Throughout their travels, Aunt Delia was his anchor—without her, he would have surely been lost…swept away through the currents of time!

Humans always feared him [for good reason]. Lila was kind, caring, and sweet, but she was as tangible as mist. However, Aunt Delia was always there to share in his fears, worries, anxieties……

Despite what others may say, his aunt was very kind.

She wasn’t a murderer…unlike him.

The poor, sad ghost was merely confused. He’d prove to him that Aunt Delia was innocent even if it winds up being the last thing he’d ever do.

“I know you’re sad…and confused…and lost, but I know how you feel,” Noël assuaged the ghost. “I’ve recently lost someone close to me…”

“Liar.”

“You’ve all ruined so many innocent lives…killed my sister and me…and yet you still claim to be innocent.” The ghost’s previously glassy eyes gazed up towards Noël. Anger was etched into his voice as the specter’s tone gradually became stronger. If looks could kill, well……

“It’s your fault. It’s always been your fault. I want my sister—bring her back, bring her back, bring her back!”