We walked on through the woods again, silence stretching between us. The only sound was the steady crunch of leaves beneath our feet and the faint whisper of wind threading through the branches.
Every so often I thought I heard something behind us, but when I glanced back, there was nothing but shadows.
Soon, the trees began to thin. Shafts of weak sunlight spilled through the gaps until, at last, we stepped out into open fields.
The air felt lighter here, but my thoughts weren't. Were those ghosts in the woods quietly corrupting the locals too? The idea dug at me, and the memory of their eyes lingered, pale and watchful.
A narrow road stretched ahead, cracked and faded with age. Not a single car passed, not even the sound of one in the distance. Just silence and the occasional caw of a crow circling above.
Then, after a while, a lone truck rattled past, its engine coughing and groaning as it rolled over the broken asphalt. Dust billowed in its wake, choking the air for a moment before settling back over the fields.
"Only trucks use this route, huh?" I muttered, brushing grit from my sleeve.
I sighed and turned toward Nellie. "Let's wait for a taxi, though I doubt one will show up here. It's just farmers and their fields."
If we did find one, Grandma would be the one footing the bill. And if not… walking back to the city would take five hours, at least.
Without warning, Nellie stepped forward and walked straight into the middle of the cracked road. She stopped there, perfectly still, like a statue planted in the dust.
My heart lurched. "What are you doing? You'll freak out the driver, maybe even cause an accident!"
Her reply came sharp, and unshaken. "It's getting hotter. The next one coming, we're getting on." Her voice had that finality to it, the kind that made arguing pointless.
I groaned under my breath. Well, that's not how it works… Especially not with that face; serious, and unyielding, and just scary enough to convince anyone to listen.
Moments later, the low rumble of an engine carried across the fields. A truck emerged through the haze, its headlights cutting jagged beams through the dust. The ground trembled faintly under its weight as it barreled closer.
Nellie didn't move, she didn't blink either. She stood there like she owned the road.
And I swear the driver nearly had a heart attack when he finally spotted her, a dark silhouette in the beams.
The brakes screeched violently, echoing through the open air. The truck shuddered and lurched, its tires kicking up a storm of dust and pebbles as it skidded to a grinding stop just feet from where Nellie stood.
The man leaned his head out of the truck's window, his face pale, eyes wide with bewilderment.
"Hey, miss, are you okay?" His voice carried that mix of concern and disbelief, like he wasn't sure if he'd almost run someone over or stumbled into a ghost story.
Nellie stepped closer, utterly calm, the heat from her presence still clinging to the air. "I need a ride to the city… with my brother."
She pointed at me.
I froze on the roadside, dust swirling around my bare feet. Brother? Did she just call me her brother!?
My mouth opened, then shut again. There was no point in correcting her when she said it with that kind of confidence.
The man blinked, still visibly shaken, but he nodded quickly. "Sure thing," he said, his voice stumbling over itself. "Hop on."
Nellie didn't so much as thank him, just turned back to me with that same unreadable calm.
Wow… I thought as I hurried after her. She's the real deal.
---
We reached the city around five o'clock in the evening. The drive had taken six long hours, and by the time we rolled in, the streets were painted amber by the setting sun.
The tall buildings stretched their shadows across the pavement like dark fingers, and the glow of streetlamps flickered to life one by one.
The driver had talked the entire way, his voice buzzing in my ears like a mosquito that refused to die. He hopped from one story to another, rambling about crops, politics, even his neighbor's chickens.
I nodded when I had to, grunted when I couldn't manage more, all while Nellie sat beside me in her usual silence.
She let him think she was listening, but every single question he tossed her way somehow landed on me instead.
By the time the city skyline sharpened against the horizon, I felt more drained than if I'd fought ten demons in a row. My brain throbbed from overuse, my mouth dry from answering questions I didn't care about.
When the truck finally slowed to a stop, Nellie leaned forward, her tone smooth and smug.
"You tired my brother with questions," she said matter-of-factly, "and now he can't pay."
The man barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "Don't worry, I wasn't gonna ask for payment anyway. I enjoyed the company. See you around."
I slumped back, rubbing at my temples. Yeah… 'enjoyed the company.' If talking my ears off counts.
---
I walked side by side with Nellie through the familiar streets, the weight of the city settling around me with every step.
When we reached Grandma's house, I slowed, staring at the front door. That memory hit me like a frying pan, literally the last time I'd shown up here, I was greeted with one.
I cleared my throat, rubbing the back of my neck. "Nellie, do you mind… knocking?"
She tilted her head slightly, her expression as flat and unreadable as ever. "Why? I can just phase in."
I threw my hands up, voice sharper than I intended. "We're not here to rob the place!"
The corner of her brow lifted, unimpressed. Her ghostly form shimmered faintly at the edges, flickering as if she might ignore me and do it anyway.
Standing there with her, I realized for the hundredth time that arguing with Nellie was like trying to stop the tide.
"Well, I can't," I muttered, jabbing a finger at the door like it had personally wronged me. "Some of us still have to use the knob like normal people."
Nellie tilted her head, her gaze flickering between me and the door. For a moment, I thought she might actually listen. Then, with the faint shimmer of heat-haze, her form wavered and slipped right through the wood as though it wasn't even there.
A second later: knock, knock. From the inside.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. She doesn't get it, does she? You knock from the outside, not the inside.
My stomach twisted at the thought of what was about to happen.
One day, Grandma's going to kill me for this. Last time, Van sent her flying into the furniture. And now Nellie? I can't imagine how this one's going to turn out.
The silence on the other side of the door stretched too long, and I braced myself like a soldier waiting for a grenade to go off.
Inside, Clara lounged on the couch in her smallest, laziest shape, the cat form she preferred when she wanted to pass as nothing more than a house pet.
Her tail flicked idly, and with one paw she held the remote close, the other tapping, flipping through channels as if she were half-bored, half-curious about human noise. The TV washed the room in shifting colors, blues and oranges reflecting off her fur.
Then her ears twitched. She froze, paw suspended mid-air. Slowly, her head turned toward the front door.
Nellie stood there, stiff and silent. Unmoving like a statue carved from shadow, flickering faintly at the edges where her ghostly form didn't fully meet the light.
Clara's golden eyes widened. Huh? When did she get in? Her brows knitted together in feline confusion.
She was certain she'd heard knocking just a heartbeat ago, but she hadn't sensed anyone actually entering. And yet, here Nellie was, looming at the door as if she'd been there the whole time.
The remote slipped from Clara's paw, landing on the couch cushion with a dull thud.
Nellie didn't say a word. She just stood there, staring back at Clara with that same cold, unreadable expression, as though she were weighing the silence, deciding whether or not it was worth breaking.
Clara's fur bristled, her tail twitching. She couldn't sense Nellie as a ghost, not fully, yet the wrongness in the room was undeniable, like a draft that slipped under the door and chilled her bones.
I slipped in quietly behind them, my footsteps barely whispering against the polished floor.
For a moment, the air felt thick, caught between Nellie's heavy stillness and Clara's quiet confusion.
Then Clara's gaze snapped to me. The instant her eyes landed on my face, her entire expression bloomed with light. Her golden eyes widened, her brows lifted, her mouth parted in pure, startled relief.
In a heartbeat, her body blurred, stretching upward as fur gave way to skin, paws to hands. She shifted seamlessly into her human form, her figure darting toward me with sudden urgency.
The next instant, she leapt; arms out, hair whipping in the motion as though the space between us was already too long to bear.
"Young Master, Fiel!" she cried, her voice breaking with relief as though she had been holding it back for years.
Her arms locked around my neck, her legs wrapping tightly around my waist, clinging as if I might vanish into smoke if she loosened her grip. The sudden weight nearly knocked me back a step, and for a second I staggered, caught between surprise and the force of her embrace.
Her robes – a pale blend of green and white fluttered softly with the movement, the fabric catching the faint moonlight from the window. Strands of her black hair spilled down her back like silk, brushing against my face as she buried herself against me.
She was warm. Trembling, but really warm.
This wasn't just a hug, it was desperate, fierce and unrelenting, overflowing with emotions she couldn't put into words. Relief, fear, joy, even anger. All of it pressed into me at once, heavy enough to choke the air from my chest.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I realized just how much she had been waiting.
Clara is a spirit, just like Van. Normally, if a spirit spoke, no human would hear them except for their Masters. For Clara, that was Grandma Elunara. Spirits and ghosts don't use voices the way we do; they have to rely on telepathy.
But for some reason, I could hear them. Clara didn't need to reach into my mind to talk to me, I could just… hear her. As if her words were meant for me.
Van was different still. Unlike other spirits, if he wanted to, anyone could hear him aloud. His voice carried into the world like a living person's, no telepathy needed unless secrecy was needed.
It's strange, isn't it? How both Nellie and Van stand apart from the rest, neither bound to the rules that keep other spirits and ghosts in silence.
These were just some of the useless abilities I got instead of the