Seraphina tried to maintain her scowl.
She bit the inside of her cheek, furrowed her brow as fiercely as her six-year-old facial muscles would allow.
But as another ghost joined in, juggling three miniature, floating fireballs that morphed into the shapes of galloping horses, the whimsy of the performance began to chip away at her cynicism.
The ghosts were pulling out all the stops. They were performing elaborate, silent pantomimes of historic battles, intentionally exaggerating their own defeats for comedic effect.
One of the grandpas pretended to trip over his own cape, tumbling head over heels in slow motion through the air, landing upside down with a look of offended dignity.
A small, traitorous giggle escaped Seraphina's lips.
"Aha! A breach in the fortress!" Lord Ignis the Elder cheered, floating closer.
Seraphina couldn't help it. The sound broke the dam, and a bright, bubbling cascade of genuine laughter erupted from her chest.
