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hannahmanderr · 3 months

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Nuclear Fusion ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Fright Knight, Vlad, and Danny learn what it means to make a life-altering decision. Decisions that may change the tide of battle without them even knowing. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If there was anything granted to him through his servitude that the Fright Knight loathed, it was his command over the thrall armies.

The armies had existed as long as him, if not longer. Not all rulers he’d served had used them, but they were always available as a tool for whomever sat on the throne. Of course, ultimate authority over the thralls rested with the throne, but the Fright Knight too was an extension of the throne and its will. Thus, the authority over the armies came inherent with his existence.

The thralls were little more than mindless drones. Enemies of the throne damned to an existence of suffering in servitude. Only the king - or a direct agent of the king - could inflict such a punishment.

For centuries, the Fright Knight had no qualms over this. It was simply the way it worked. He held little sympathy for the souls condemned to service in the army. After all, if they were an enemy of the throne, they were an enemy of his. And the punishment was to be reserved only for the vilest of fiends. The ones truly deserving of such a fate.

Then came the reign of Pariah Dark.

The tyrant king was ruthless. As he ravaged realms, he too ravaged the lives of those in the realms. No one was immune to the Endless Death, as it had become to be known. Innocent and guilty alike, souls were reaped into the armies in droves.

Many of which the Fright Knight had been forced to reap himself.

And so as he walked through the halls of the Keep, as he passed by legion after legion of thralls amassing themselves into formation, he was forced to relive the sins that dirtied his hands. The sins that dirtied his existence. He was forced to look into the eyes of those he’d condemned, to gaze into the reflection of the perversion of his role.

Yes. He would forever loathe this command. This reminder of dark eras.

Still, he stood tall. Maintained his composure. Each skeletal figure saluted him as he strode by.

But he didn’t look too closely.

All too soon, he stood at the large, looming doors to the throne room. They had not been touched since the last battle here. Half-blown off their hinges, threatening to fall at any moment.

He took it as an invitation.

The sting in his core grew sharper and sharper with each step he took towards the dais. The air became hotter, buzzing with something harsh and volatile. For years now, he’d been known as the Spirit of Fear, and legends about him told of his inability to experience the plague that he wrought upon others.

As his eyes landed on the woken king, though, something he could only describe as the poisoned grip of fear coiled around his core.

Pariah Dark still looked exactly as he had that fateful day, when the Ancient Masters had come to end the king’s tyranny. The only evidence that time had passed at all was the wound to his eye, scarred over, disfiguring the king’s face even more than it already was.

That and the missing Crown of Fire.

He tried not to linger on that thought.

The Fright Knight dropped to his knee at the foot of the dais. “My lord,” he mumbled. “You’re awake.”

Pariah’s ossified face always cracked ominously when he grinned, and it did so now. “You seem surprised. Do you honestly doubt my power?”

The Fright Knight’s eyes widened and his core skipped a beat. “No, no.” He kept his head bowed to hide the panic written across his faceless expression. “Never. I am your loyal servant. I could never doubt you. My existence is devoted to you and you alone. ”

The words felt as though they dirtied his mouth as they passed through his lips.

A sharp tug pulled at his core. Not enough to be painful, but enough to make itself known. The one that had been whispering to him of hope and better things yet to come.

He did his best to ignore it.

Pariah’s lone eye glinted in the firelight as he studied the Fright Knight closely. “I should have you reaped by your own blade for your dishonesty,” he mused aloud.

The Fright Knight’s core lurched dangerously. “Dishonesty?”

What the king did next caught him off guard. The only warning was the dangerous glint in his single eye. Faster than he could register, Pariah roared and lunged for him. The Fright Knight could only grunt pathetically as he was pinned to the ground and stripped of his weapon in mere seconds.

Red fire exploded to life in the torches that still remained on the walls. The stinging heat grew to oppressive levels, and distantly, the Fright Knight wondered if he could be cooked to his End inside his metal armor.

That poisonous grip of fear twisted painfully around his core as the king leered down at him.

“You dare kneel at my feet when your core commits this treason?” he bellowed. Rubble rained down from the damaged ceiling. “You cannot fool me! I know there is another who demands your attention!”

The knight’s core seemed to leap into his throat. “M-my lord, I beg of you, I do not understand…”

“But you do!” Pariah swung the Soul Shredder up in a deadly arc, its green blade gleaming ominously in the red firelight. Before he could beg for mercy, the Fright Knight found himself staring down the tip of his sword, hovering right above his core.

He dared not move. Not with a ruthless creature positioned right above his life force.

“You feel him, don’t you?” Pariah whispered, leaning down close to the Fright Knight’s face. “He calls to you. He has taken a hold in your core and he refuses to let go. He wishes to take advantage of your loyalty, so that you may betray me…”

Never before had the knight felt threatened by his liege. Any of them. To the kings and queens he’d served, he was among their most valuable assets. Even before his first defeat, Lord Pariah had always respected his knight’s position. Replacement - or worse - had never been on the table between them.

Despite that respect, though, it didn’t change Pariah’s nature. The king had always been brutal and cruel, but he’d remained composed and calculative as he wrought his terror. He did not attack needlessly. Though he didn’t care to hold back his power, instead choosing to have it constantly on display, there was always a reason for his exercise of power, even if it was excessive.

The ghost above him, poised and ready to strike him down at the slightest of wrong moves, was not that same king. A wild recklessness had come over him; something rash, something savage glinted in his lone eye. Nothing at all like the cold calculation the Fright Knight had come to be used to during his reign. No, this was a fiery, heedless passion unlike anything the knight had ever seen before.

That alone caused his core to double its speed.

“Please, sire,” he managed to choke out, “who are you speaking of? My core cannot discern these things…”

The king’s face creaked again as it turned thunderous. “One who thinks he can take what is rightfully mine,” he spat. “A foolish child who has decided to lay claim to my throne.”

It took a great deal of willpower to maintain his composure upon hearing those words.

So. It was true.

Pariah straightened himself. “No matter. He is but a pathetic bug I will crush under my foot. He will never take what is mine.”

“But… my lord, Kilaris…”

The heat of the king’s wrath hit the Fright Knight like a brick wall. “I am the Heart’s master!” he roared. The tip of the Soul Shredder screeched as it dragged along the Fright Knight’s breastplate. “It bends to my will and mine alone! Those wretched Ancients thought they were so clever to hide it? Pah! They were fools!”

“I-I don’t understand…”

“But you will!” Pariah snarled. Angry red sparks sizzled around his grip on the sword. “You will! You, and anyone else who dares think the Heart belongs to anyone but me! You will see! I do not bow to Kilaris; it bends to me. I am the true master of Kilaris, and I will not be locked away again!”

With a roar of fury that shook the room and caused the Fright Knight’s ears to start ringing, Pariah threw the Soul Shredder to the side and lunged towards the Sarcophagus. Power, raw and unbridled, exploded into life around his hands - no, around the king’s entire form. The Ring of Rage grew impossibly bright, fueled by the emotion for which it was named.

If the heat of the king’s temper had been unbearable before, it was nothing short of suffocating now. Every fiber of the Fright Knight’s core screamed at him to flee, to escape the aura that filled the room, infecting everything in it.

Including himself.

And yet he found himself frozen in place, only able to prop himself up on his elbow to watch in abject horror as the king unleashed the full force of his power upon the prison that had kept him subdued for so long.

The red energy paled and grew brighter, quickly growing to a blinding level. Like a star on the edge of burning itself to death, shining brilliantly in a last stunning display, the top of the dais exploded into nothing but light.

The Fright Knight threw up an arm and turned away before he could be blinded, but somehow, the light still managed to sear into his eyes. The king’s power was all-consuming. As if his was the only power that is, was, and ever would be.

And though whitenoise drowned his ears, from within the epicenter of the star, an anguished cry pierced the Fright Knight to his core.

Just as quickly as it had begun, it ended. The light and the energy receded, and the ringing in his ears faded. No longer frozen in shock, he scrambled upright and looked to the dais. Pariah stood there, huffing and puffing with red sparks still dancing between his fingers and in his mane of matted hair.

The Sarcophagus was nowhere in sight. As if it had vanished.

No, not vanished, the Fright Knight realized as he narrowed his eyes. As his gaze swept over the surrounding area, he could see tiny shrapnels of painted wood littering the room, radiating from where the Sarcophagus once stood.

A tainted chill raced down the Fright Knight’s spine. Not vanished indeed.

Obliterated.

The prison the Ancients had once believed to be indestructible had been razed to little more than dust and debris by the prisoner it sought to contain.

The king turned towards the Fright Knight, only enough so that the latter could see that same savage glint in his eye. “And so I will ask you again,” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet, “do you doubt my power?”

The unspoken threat, especially combined with the display before him, was not lost on the Fright Knight. He’d served under Pariah Dark long enough to understand the hidden implications of his words. Slowly, he sank back onto his knee.

“Never, my lord.”

The words sent a pang through his core.

“Good.” The king descended the stairs, and the Fright Knight couldn’t tell if the room was shuddering from the sheer force of his steps or from something else. “Then perhaps you can answer another question for me, dear knight. My Crown - where is it?”

The Fright Knight had to bow his head again to hide his widened eyes. The poisonous grip of fear once again wrapped itself around his core, squeezing it tightly. He knew the answer to the king’s query - or rather, he at least knew who had last taken it. He’d been there, after all.

He needed to answer. He had to. The sharp, painful tug in his core dictated so. The mad king and his threats dictated so.

And yet…

The other pull was still there. Fainter, trying desperately to poke through the powerful hot grip, but there.

It called to him, just as Pariah had surmised. It whispered to his core, beckoning him away from the tyrant’s orders. Those same promises of hope and peace wrapped around him, lessening the pain of Pariah’s pull.

The Fright Knight knew what he wanted. He knew which call he wished to follow. For thousands of years, until the reign of Pariah, he’d been allowed to exist peacefully. He’d been allowed to live out his loyal service without needing to concern himself about his fate or the fate of the Infinite Realms.

He longed to return to that.

The question was, would his core allow it?

Yes, it whispered.

“I… I don’t know,” he said quietly. “The child deposed me before I could see where it had gone.”

He had to keep his head bent low and wrangle all of his self-control not to cry out in response to the wrenching, hot pain in his core the moment the words left his mouth.

And yet a different part of his core felt brighter, lighter than it had in centuries.

Pariah studied him closely. Kneeling there, under the king’s gaze, sent the Fright Knight’s fighting instincts into a tizzy, but he forced himself to remain still and submissive.

He’d given in to the temptation once now. He didn’t know if he had it in him to do it again.

The king hummed. “The boy certainly doesn’t have it. I would be able to tell if he did. And yet I can’t feel its location…”

“Then what will you do, my lord?”

Pariah ran his thumb over the Ring of Rage. Even with his head bowed, the Fright Knight could see how it still radiated power. It too gave off an aura of instability, just like its owner.

The realization nagged at the back of the knight’s mind, trying to warn him of something, but he forced it down. He could not afford to lose focus right now.

“We will march at once,” Pariah finally announced. “If I cannot detect the Crown, then neither can the child. With or without it, getting rid of him will be… child’s play.” He snorted at his own play on words. “Once he is out of the way, finding my Crown will be simple enough.”

The Fright Knight was careful not to let his shoulders sag with relief. That was a response he was far more used to hearing from Pariah. Even if that wild recklessness still permeated the hot, thick air, the familiarity was welcome. “Of course, sire.”

The king raised his mace to point over the knight’s head. “Take your command of the legions,” he ordered. “I will make way for them.”

“Make way to march where, Your Highness?”

Pariah’s single eye flared. “To the child’s pathetic human village. If he is too cowardly to face me again, then we shall draw him out. He will have no choice but to meet me if he wishes to protect his territory. It is there that I will reclaim what he has dared to try and take from me.”

“And… once you have… reclaimed the throne?”

“Oh, dear knight,” the king crooned, bending down to hover over the Fright Knight. “Isn’t it obvious? We will put an end to this. To those who dare think they can have power over me. I will show them the true master of Kilaris.”

The order sent the two pulls in the Fright Knight’s core into conflict with each other, but he swallowed it down. “It will be done, my lord.”

Hastily, he rose from his kneeled position, retrieved the Soul Shredder from where it had been thrown, and retreated from the throne room. Nightmare was waiting for him outside. The thralls would follow him with little more than a simple instruction. With the portal Pariah would create, they would descend on the human city in less than an hour’s time.

He sighed. No doubt the child would rise to meet the king’s challenge again.

Though he knew what the inevitable outcome would be, deep in his core, as the entire Keep gave an undeniable shudder, he silently prayed for the boy King. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Crown of Fire had once been the extremely literal crown jewel of Vlad’s collection. Of all the ghostly artifacts he’d hunted down and gathered over the past twenty-some years, the Crown was easily the most legendary of them all. He couldn’t help but puff his chest with the accomplishment.

Granted, it had been the Ring of Rage he’d truly managed to track down. The Crown…

Well, surely it was an accomplishment of its own to swipe it from underneath the noses of a few dozen ghosts, including the servant to the throne and the Crown.

Unfortunately for him, the legends had proven true; the Crown was virtually powerless without its other half. Even more frustrating was the fact that when he held it, he could feel the power within, yearning to break free and be used. Victory was, quite literally, within his grasp, yet it still eluded him.

And so Vlad had resolved to eventually figure out a way to break the Ring free from the Sarcophagus, preferably without waking the tyrant king this time around. It was for the better, anyway. There were a number of other plans he wanted to see to fruition before he attempted again. Plans like finally obtaining the son he’d always wanted.

It would be lovely, after all, if he could get Daniel to do the hard work for him again. It would be even lovelier if he did it of his own free will.

Thus, the Crown had sat tucked away in his safe in Colorado for well over a year now. Somewhere where no human could stumble across it and no ghost would dare look, lest they incur his wrath. Oh, he never forgot about it, of course. Once a month or so, he’d give into the temptation and take it out, just to hold it. Feel that power thrumming in the metal. Dream about what that power would finally do for him. How it was made for him. How he’d finally reach his destiny once he had it.

In the blink of an eye and a tiny spill though, all those dreams shattered.

The Crown of Fire was not on fire anymore. Quite the opposite, really. Vlad had tried to pick it up a number of times only to be met with a piercing cold, like dry ice. Getting it out of the safe and onto a towel that he could carry without being frostbitten had taken some tricky telekinetic maneuvering. Even through the thick fabric of the towel, the Crown’s new temperature threatened to freeze his hands.

It wasn’t the change in appearance and temperature that formed a pit in Vlad’s stomach, though. It was the fact that he could not feel that power thrumming any longer. Not through the towel at least. Surely it still had to be there, contained in the metal, but without a way to touch it himself, he had no way of verifying that the power remained.

The thought of losing that power was utterly terrifying.

And there was the matter of Daniel’s ectoplasm, too. It could not be salvaged; the tiny amount that the Crown did not evaporate would be negligible for any of his intended uses, not to mention tainted through exposure.

Two of his most valuable assets. Rendered useless to him. Through such a tiny mistake at that.

Vlad wanted to scream. Or fly out into the mountain forest and take his rage out on the trees. Or march right up to Daniel and demand another sample and, more importantly, an explanation.

Vlad wasn’t a moron. Unlike Jack, he could see the pieces in front of him and put two and two together. The Crown hadn’t changed on its own, after all.

Daniel’s ectoplasm had triggered it.

And that just opened up a whole slew of problems, didn’t it?

As Vlad sat at his desk, glaring at his once crown jewel, now nothing more than a frozen paperweight, the realization slowly came to him. In bits and pieces at first, then in a trickle, then in a sickening flood that, for once in his life, left him stunned, unable to figure out a plan to move forward.

The boy’s ectoplasm wasn’t the problem. The problem was Daniel himself. Even more than causing this new slew of problems, Daniel was the source of every problem and setback Vlad had experienced over the past two years.

It all made sense. Too much sense. The boy was at the root of everything. Daniel had ruined his plan at the reunion. Daniel had turned Danielle against him and destroyed the perfect clone he’d fought so hard for. Daniel had managed to make him look like a cowardly fool while he himself won impossible battle after impossible battle. Every plan Vlad created, Danny Phantom would inevitably find a way to ruin.

And it was Daniel awakening these foreign, unnerving feelings within him. The caring. The concern. The fondness.

It made his core burn.

The answer was simple of course. Get rid of the boy, and all those problems would go away. Vlad would be free to finally do away with Jack, win Maddie, and take control of the power that he rightfully deserved. No one would dare stand against him, and those that tried could be squashed as easily as an ant.

And getting rid of Daniel wouldn’t be difficult either. It was true that his power was developing at far higher rates than Vlad’s had (if his projections were right, it was very possible that the boy’s raw power already matched his own, and that was its own difficult pill to swallow), but both of them knew very well that he held himself back. Even in his most difficult battles, Daniel never unleashed his full potential. Maybe he’d come close, but the boy’s fears and morals would always hinder him.

Vlad had no such qualms. He would not hesitate to unleash his full potential. Danny would not be able to meet him.

It was tantalizing, the thought of finally ridding himself of this teenaged thorn in his side. Something deep in his core, a carnal urge, itched to return to Amity Park right now and end things.

It would be so simple. So easy…

Yet every time Vlad stood, ready to follow through on these intentions, the image of that little vial of ectoplasm burned through his mind. The image of the boy huddled helplessly on the floor of his parent’s lab. The image of the spark of fear in his eyes at the threat of a force like the GIW.

The haunting echoes of that question that had shaken Vlad’s world.

“You actually want to help me?”

Even more haunting, the answer that had been right on the tip of his tongue. The answer he’d almost spoken aloud in a moment of weakness.

Those memories, those foreign feelings he despised so much, froze him as thoroughly as the Crown.

Vlad Masters was not an indecisive man. Every move he made was precise, thought-out, and, most importantly, resolute. Very rarely did he find himself regretting his decisions; he had developed a knack for analyzing his options and carefully selecting the best choice. Life was his chessboard, and he was the chessmaster.

And yet for the first time in more than twenty years, he was struck with the realization of just how exhausting playing the chessmaster could be.

The accident had forced him into that role. Pushed into such a precarious position, with his life on the line if he made even the slightest mistake, he’d been forced to learn quickly. Learn how to manipulate the doctors into finally releasing him from the hospital, learn how to slip himself seamlessly into the world of business, learn how to use his humanity to his advantage when establishing his ghostly name. Chess wasn’t solely about choices, after all, it was about strategy.

But constant strategy, constantly having to calculate his own moves as well as any possible moves of the other players, constantly having to be on guard for anything that could trip him up… It was tiring. Far more tiring than he cared to admit.

And maybe, just maybe, that exhaustion was beginning to creep up on him. Maybe it was why he couldn’t force himself to make a decision about what to do with Daniel.

Maybe it was why he didn’t want to make that decision.

There was something painfully ironic about it all. Spending all this time building himself and his mastery only to be knocked down into despondency by a clueless child.

Ridding himself of Daniel was the only way. It had to be. Once he was able to see his plans and dreams through, he’d be able to rest finally. He’d be able to be happy. He just needed to get rid of this one last obstacle in the way of his happiness.

But would it be enough? Would he be able to live peacefully without the crown jewel of his plans, this boy who would finally make the pain and suffering worth it?

Vlad’s fingers curled into a fist. No. That dream was long gone. Even if he couldn’t finish off the child, he knew that Daniel was just as strong-willed as his father and just as stubborn as his mother. Once the boy set his mind to something, very few things would deter him from it. And he had decided long ago that he would never let himself be won over by Vlad.

If Vlad couldn’t have Daniel…

Then it only left one choice.

He stood up, nearly knocking his chair over. Dark rings swept over him, leaving Plasmius in their wake. He phased through the floor, through the ground level, and straight into his underground lab. His flight didn’t let up until he floated in front of his safe.

His face remained stony as he went through the lengthy process of verifying his identity for it to open up. Retina scan, ectoplasm sample, blood sample… Throughout it all, barely a thought crossed his mind. Only a staticky whitenoise echoed in his head, numbing him to nearly everything else.

(Maybe, deep down, some part of him knew if he tried to think, tried to clear his head and evaluate things, he’d suffer a far worse pain than losing his crown jewel.)

He wrenched the door open, almost tearing it off its hinges thanks to his ghostly strength. He didn’t reach for the sword, nor the manilla folder with his emergency documents. His hand skipped right over the Skeleton Key. Every weapon and every tool in the safe was ignored in favor of a little square of film, its papery edges beginning to yellow from age.

The smiling face of his twenty-year-old self blurred as he ran a thumb over the faces of Jack and Maddie, beaming as widely as him. The proto-portal sat on the lab table behind them, inactive, waiting to spark to life.

Waiting to take its victim.

The memory of that day haunted Vlad for more than twenty years. In the months after the accident, he’d wake up in the hospital, drenched in a cold sweat, blinding green light and screams of pain stubbornly refusing to get out of his head. It had taken five years to cut down the number of times he was forced to relive the nightmare, and a full ten years to keep it from his sleep entirely. Even still, more than two decades later, he could not keep it from his mind.

And worse than the pain, worse than the terror and the fear, was the memory of just how thrilled he’d been that day.

Yes, by that point in their undergrad, he’d started to become increasingly jealous of just how close Jack and Maddie were, but even that couldn’t put a damper on the excitement of their accomplishment. It was going to be groundbreaking, and he’d been just as proud of their work as Jack and Maddie had been. Just as ready to show it off.

They had done that. Together. The three of them.

It had been the last time he remembered being happy. Being truly happy. Being free of the anguish and bitterness that had plagued him for so long now.

Something dripped and splattered onto the young Vlad’s smiling face.

Though his ghost form didn’t require him to breathe, he inhaled anyway. Those days, the days he’d spent with Jack and Maddie, working and goofing off and just enjoying their company, they were long gone. Nothing more than painful nostalgia.

A painful reminder of what once had been.

A painful reminder of what he could’ve had.

And as he exhaled, pink flames erupted in his hands. The paper edges of the Polaroid caught fire easily, and in just a matter of moments, those three smiling faces were reduced to nothing more than ash in his palm.

Unceremoniously, his hand dropped to his side, spilling the ashes on the floor.

There would be no going back. Not anymore.

Not after he did what he knew he had to do. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ A doorbell rang.

Danny blinked. Whatever stir of power had been churning within him fizzled out. Thoughts about kings and hearts and cosmic powers left in one fell swoop. His brain, apparently overworked and exhausted from the whiplash of the day, seemed to decide it only had the energy to focus on this new distraction. So really, the next question out of his mouth shouldn’t have been such a surprise.

“Did someone order pizza?”

Sam stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m crazy stressed right now, in case you haven’t noticed. Let me be a little stupid.”

The doorbell rang again, more insistently. Kala rubbed at his temples. “What is that infernal noise?” he growled.

“Oh!” Babel slammed down his container of yogurt. “I forgot I installed that thing! You’d think the Sumerians would learn to respect a ghost’s haunt after a few thousand years, but noooo, apparently you gotta put something there to keep them from waltzin’ on in. I don’t care what Enkidu did this time, if you walk in on me and my bath again, you can kiss my -”

“Enough!” Kala barked as the doorbell rang a third time. Danny was fairly certain that if the guy had had veins, several would’ve popped by now. “Just… answer it.”

Babel gave him a mock salute before zipping to the door that looked like a manhole. Danny’s brow furrowed when, instead of heaving it out of the way, Babel stuck their head in through the side, and the door rippled like a curtain.

He was really beginning to understand why Babel was the Ancient Master of Chaos.

Before Babel could say anything or open the door (curtain?) fully, a gray blur rocketed into the chamber. Tucker barely had time to dive out of the way as it careened past him and straight into the wall, crumpling in a heap on the floor.

Danny figured his brain was still short-circuiting or something, because the gray blur-turned-parital-pancake was one of the last people he’d ever expect to see in the Ancients’ Chamber. “Poindexter?”

Sydney winced as he began untangling his limbs from one another. “Oo, that - that smarts,” he muttered.

A clap of thunder resounded against the stone walls, causing Danny and his friends to flinch. “What is the meaning of this?” Kala bellowed. “Has the sanctity of this chamber ceased to exist?”

“I-I apologize, Master Kala,” Sydney said. He managed to pick himself off the ground and zip to float before the table, in front of Danny. “Believe me, normally I wouldn’t, but this - it’s an emergency! This is bad, this is really bad…”

“Easy, young one,” Frostbite soothed, though Danny found himself wondering if it was really all that soothing coming from an eight-foot-tall yeti monster ghost. “What is the emergency?”

Kala opened his mouth, presumably to try and yell Sydney out of the room, or whatever he did to get rid of unwanted guests, but Pandora held out two of her hands. “At least hear him out,” she said, gentle yet firm. “He would not have sought us out if it wasn’t important.”

“Exactly!” Sydney began wringing his hands. “I thought it wasn’t real at first, I-I thought I was just imagining it, but I knew it couldn’t be my imagination, I heard it! And I saw it too! And - and my shade! It changed! I didn’t even know it could do that, it never changes -”

“Your shade changed?” Zunje interrupted. “That’s… impossible. Shades and echoes are just that; they’re not capable of changing.”

“I know what I saw! It - I was in trig class! And then everyone just vanished, and when I looked outside -” If possible, Sydney’s face grew an even paler gray.

Danny’s blood ran cold.

( - a big, gaping rip of pure darkness emerging against the already-dark horizon of the Ghost Zone - )

“You saw it,” he finished, his fingers feeling numb. It wasn’t a question. The memory wasn’t his, but it was still burned into his mind anyway.

Sydney turned, as if he hadn’t realized Danny had been there the whole time. “Phantom!” Before Danny could stop him, Sydney had darted to him and latched onto his arms. The sharp, tangy taste of the ghost’s terror filled Danny’s mouth. “Oh, sweet jeepers, you’re here! You have to stop it! Him! Y-you -”

“What is it?” Kala asked, frustration still tinging his voice.

“I still wanna know what you meant when you said ‘he’s’ looking for the Crown,” Tucker added weakly.

Pandora’s eyes widened. “Do you mean…?”

But Danny didn’t process any of their words. A ringing filled his ears as Sydney continued to babble at him. “Wait, I’m not - stop him? I…”

The memories of being in the Keep welled up in the back of his head, threatening to assault him again. Swallowing thickly, he forced them back into that compartment he’d created for them long ago, the one Jazz scolded him for utilizing more often than he should.

The fear from those memories still boiled stubbornly in his gut.

It is nothing you haven’t done before.

That had been different. He’d been so much more naive back then, holding on to the foolish hope that he’d win the day and return home safe and sound and the experience would eventually fade into the collective memory of the hundreds of fights he’d had before. He’d had the extra power offered to him by the Ecto-Skeleton, and he’d had the back-up of a good chunk of his rogues gallery.

He’d had the godsend of whoever had come and turned that key and saved his life.

He was shaking his head before he even realized it. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I’m not…”

Do not let your fear win, little Prince. You are stronger than that. You are stronger than him.

He really wished he could believe that.

Sydney’s eyes widened. “No, you have to! Or - or he’s gonna rip apart the Zone! I saw it!”

“Who are you talking about?” Kala demanded.

Sydney spun around, looking at the Ancients like they had all grown three heads. “Isn’t it obvious?” he shouted, his voice continuing to raise in pitch. “It’s him! The king! King Pariah!”

A stunned silence filled the room, but only briefly. “Stars above,” Zunje whispered. “That’s what you meant when you said he’s looking for the Crown.”

“He’s out?” Kala’s voice had grown much, much quieter. The shock written across his face didn’t help Danny’s nerves in the slightest.

Pandora’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. How is that possible?”

For a sickening moment, the thought that someone had intentionally released Pariah flitted across Danny’s mind.

You know better. The answers have been given to you.

“He broke out,” he said quietly as the realization came to him. “It’s - he took advantage of the Heart trying to break free. It must have broken the Sarcophagus, whatever the Heart was trying to do.”

“Because it got separated!” Sam snapped her fingers. “That’s what you were trying to say! When you took the Crown from him when you fought him and put him back into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep with the Ring, it separated the Heart.”

“And that’s why it’s been ripping the worlds apart!” Zunje added. Strangely, she seemed to be vibrating from excitement. “It’s trying to put itself back together! It all fits in with one another!”

“Awesome,” Danny muttered. “So all this really is my fault.” Only Sydney was close enough to hear him. He shot Danny a confused look, but didn’t press the matter.

Nonsense. You did what you had to do. You made the best choice.

“But when we separated the Ring and Crown before, it didn’t result in… this.” Pandora gestured vaguely with one of her hands. “Why now then?”

“Oh!” Babel flung a forkful of yogurt behind him as they jolted in realization. “We kept them close before! The Ring was like, right next to that thing. We was real careful to keep it that way. So if King Grumpy has the Ring -”

“Then the Crown must have been removed from the throne room after Phantom’s battle,” Kala finished.

For the umpteenth time that day, every eye in the room turned on Danny. He wanted to rip his hair out.

If he really was supposed to be king, then his first rule was going to be that people couldn’t keep staring at him like this.

Too late, he realized the unspoken question they were asking with their eyes. “I… don’t know where it is,” he said, shaking his head helplessly. “I was barely conscious enough to realize someone had turned the key. I didn’t wake up until I was back home.”

Another beat of silence filled the room. “Well, that’s… sort of good, right?” Tucker asked slowly. “‘Cause even if we don’t know where it is, he doesn’t know where it is either. And we don’t want him to get it, yeah?”

“Yes, but according to the Great One, he is looking for it.” Frostbite put a paw to his chin and studied Danny. “How do you know he is searching for it?”

Danny hesitated. Again, the truth was there on the tip of his tongue, but something kept him from telling it to everyone. The hot sting in his core had ebbed away some throughout the conversation, probably thanks to some combination of his new cloak and distraction, but now that it had come up again, albeit indirectly, he could feel it gripping his core again, threatening to send him into delirium again.

The idea of revealing that Pariah was in his core to such a degree sent a twist of nausea through his stomach. He wouldn’t put it past Kala to assume Pariah was trying to take control of him or something.

And there was also the fact that acknowledging the connection out loud meant acknowledging… everything. Namely the whole king thing. That was something he really didn’t want to get into. At all.

“I mean… I just kind of figured,” he finally said, averting his gaze. “If he doesn’t have it, he’s gonna want to find it, you know?”

“We cannot allow that to happen.” Kala stood, the shroud of clouds around him growing larger and showier. “He must not be allowed to have full access to Kilaris again.”

“Sooo…” Babel drawled, “how do we keep him from getting the Crown without keeping Kilaris separated and making the worlds go all kablooey? I mean, I’d be down to see that happen, but maybe with silly string and not, you know. Destruction.”

Danny looked up and inadvertently met Kala’s eyes. He wanted to look away immediately, but there was something in the Ancient’s eyes that kept him there. There was a certain kind of resignation in them, one that permeated the air and sat on Danny’s tongue, heavy and bittersweet. He could practically see the gears in Kala’s head turning, coming to the same conclusion he was quickly coming to, much to his distress.

You cannot run from who you are meant to be, little Prince.

The Heart’s words stole Danny’s breath away. Perhaps it had intended for them to be comforting, but they were anything but that. They were an omen, a harbinger of pain and sorrow.

I don’t want this, he thought helplessly. Please, just… choose someone else.

It is not that simple. You were born for this, little Prince. This is your destiny.

Definitely not the answer he wanted to hear.

Still, Danny ignored the Heart. If it wasn’t going to cooperate, then he could deal with that later. Much later, preferably. Instead, he stared hard into Kala’s eyes, wondering if he could spontaneously develop telepathy solely to beg Kala to keep to his opinion, the one they had found mutual agreement in. The one that - rightfully - decided that Danny could not, should not be named king.

Kala closed his eyes. “To keep him from accessing Kilaris any longer, someone else must control that access.” When he opened them again, he kept Danny’s line of sight. Much to Danny’s dismay, there was a silent apology buried within the stormy clouds. “If… if Kilaris is reaching out to another, then that bond must be realized. And it would seem that we have been fortunate enough to find Kilaris’ new chosen.”

No hit that Danny had ever taken felt like the one delivered by Kala’s words.

Pandora cast a smile laced with smugness at Kala before turning her attention back to Danny. “I for one cannot think of a better candidate for the Heart.”

“Wow,” Tucker breathed. “So. The king thing really is happening, huh?”

“King thing?” Sydney looked back and forth between Danny and Tucker, then his mouth dropped open, and he pointed at Danny. “Wait, you’re -”

“The Crown must be found first,” Pele grunted. Danny had almost forgotten she was there, she had been silently observing for so long. “There is no bond without the full Heart.”

“So we find it first,” Zunje said with a shrug. “Easy peasy.”

“And then what? Pariah’s still got a hold on the Ring,” Babel pointed out.

“It will have to be taken from him.” Kala’s voice echoed with gravity. His eyes met Danny’s yet again. “He will never surrender it willingly. He will have to be fought.”

The ringing returned in Danny’s ears. The memory of his life being drained before his eyes filled his head. The hot grip around his core sparked to life again.

“Wait, wait, timeout.” Sam stepped forward. “Why does it have to be Danny? Why can’t you guys fight him? Like what are you gonna do if Pariah ends up…” Sour fear zipped across Danny’s taste buds.

In spite of the terror brought on by the memories and Pariah in his core, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. She gripped him with only a force Sam Manson could muster.

Zunje laughed, much to Danny’s surprise and irritation. “Well he’s not gonna be alone!” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We’ll help of course. But we can only do so much. You have to be the one to seize the power.” She threw a pointed look at Danny. “You’ve already got a bit of a connection to Kilaris going it sounds like, so it should take right away. Even if one of us managed to get it away from him, there’s every chance he could take it back. As long as you don’t have full control, he’s still got that window. So… yeah, it kind of needs to be you.”

“Which is why the Crown must be found first,” Kala said. “You will need it with you so you can promptly assert your throne and depose Pariah.”

A chill ran down Danny’s spine hearing the phrase “your throne.” Not the pleasant kind of chill, either.

Do not worry, little Prince. You will make a fine King. You were made for this.

That wasn’t what was putting him off, though the Heart’s insistence that this was his destiny, as if it had been decided the moment he was born, did little to make him feel better. If anything, it made him feel worse.

Then do not think of it as a rulership. Think of it as fulfilling the mission you chose for yourself. Think of it as fulfilling the role you’ve always sought to serve.

That made Danny stop. Another memory from the time of Pariah’s siege of Amity Park resurfaced, this one before the battle had even begun.

(“Dude, you can’t blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault.”)

(“Maybe not. But it is my responsibility.”)

His eyes fell to Sydney, who was staring up at him with the kind of admiration a kid would have for their idol. He could still remember the tangy taste of the ghost’s fear, of his alarm at witnessing his world being threatened and unwillingly altered.

Sydney had come to find the Ancients and warn them, but he’d found Danny too, and he’d begged Danny for help. Even with six of the most powerful ghosts in existence in the room, he’d focused in on Danny.

Because that’s what Danny did. That’s what he’d figured out about what his powers could be used for, way back when he first fought the Lunch Lady.

Danny helped. Simple as that.

Sydney needed help right now. The Ancients needed help right now. His friends and family needed help right now. Two worlds, his worlds needed help right now.

The Heart needed help right now.

Do what you have to do.

Danny exhaled shakily. “Okay.” He nodded. “Okay.” He straightened his back and shoulders. “Alright.”

Sam still held his hand. She and Tucker both looked at him, much like they had more than a year ago as he’d prepared to go fight an impossible battle.

“You don’t have to do this,” Sam whispered.

“We can find another way,” Tucker added.

Danny smiled sadly. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.” He took a deep breath. “This is what I have to do.”

Sam and Tucker glanced at each other. Danny nearly jumped out of his boots when Tucker slapped a hand onto his shoulder.

“This is what we have to do,” he said, squeezing Danny’s shoulder. “You’re nuts if you think we’re gonna let you do this alone again.”

In spite of himself, Danny’s heart swelled, and for one blissful moment, the hot grip on his core disappeared.

Kala cleared his throat, startling the three friends. “If you are done having your… moment,” he said, as if he couldn’t comprehend what had just transpired between them, “we must choose a plan of action.”

“I thought we already had a plan.” Babel tucked their fork behind their ear. “Find the Crown, bop King Grumpy, and bada bing, bada boom, we gots ourselves a new king.”

“I don’t know where it is, though,” Danny said again. “It could be anywhere.”

Zunje hummed. “True, but you might be able to use the connection you already have with the Heart to find it. It’s like we said, Kilaris wants to be whole again, and you’re kind of a big part of that now. It’s gonna be naturally attracted to you, or it’s gonna attract you to it. If you concentrate hard enough, you should be able to follow that pull, so to speak.” She rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Theoretically, anyway. This is kind of a unique situation, but hey! You’re a pretty unique champion so there’s that!”

“That… doesn’t really inspire much confidence.”

“It’s worth a try,” Pandora said. “It’s our only lead at the moment. Unless if you can remember anything about where it could’ve gone, or who could’ve possibly taken it.”

Danny opened his mouth to reiterate that no, he’d been a little too busy dying to notice anything, but he was interrupted by a sudden twist in his core. The hot grip yanked on it, wrenched it out of sync with his heart. His hand flew up to his sternum, and the inside of his cloak began to light up again as his core instinctively began to try and generate more cold to ward off the intrusion.

( - legion of skeleton soldiers marching relentlessly through the Badlands - )

( - being ripped open and pouring through and - )

( - glint of a glowing green sword - )

( - girl with flaming red hair jumping in front of a man, wielding a gun whining to life - )

He gasped and doubled over as the foreign images assaulted him yet again. Sam and Tucker were instantly on him, shouting his name and asking what was happening. He wanted to answer, but the grip had such a strong hold on him, he felt as if his vocal cords were on fire.

And then, striking fear through his Heart…

I am a man of my word, little Prince, the tyrant king’s voice sneered mockingly. If you wish to take what is rightfully mine, then I will take what is yours and raze it to the ground.

“No…” he managed to choke out. “Not…”

Pariah laughed in his core. Pathetic child. Hiding away like a coward, leaving his little village vulnerable and helpless…

( - forking through the sky, a deep blackness peering from beyond the jagged tears - )

Danny heaved a broken, soundless cry. He reached deep within himself, trying to prod his core back into place, desperately calling upon the fond images that had given him peace just a short bit ago. This time, however, those images were marred by the nagging anxiety in the back of his mind, showing him his town in fear and chaos.

That is what will become of your precious humans if you do not face me, the king told him. The choice is yours, little Prince. Stand and meet your pitiful end like the brave little boy you claim to be, or watch me lay waste to everything and everyone you hold dear. Either way, I will reign victorious.

No. No, he couldn’t let that happen. Not to Amity. Not to the Realms. He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t let that happen. Not on his watch.

Deep in his core, underneath the scalding sting of Pariah, something bubbled to life. It was small, weak, like the sun trying to break through the clouds on a gray day. But it was there.

And there was something invigorating about it. Far from the crippling hot grip trying to master his core. It pulsed, slowly and faintly, but it fit right next to his heart like a perfect match, and it began to radiate out. His head spun with wooziness, but it wasn’t disorienting like it had been before. This was different.

Something caught his eye. Though his head felt like dead weight and his vision had an alarming blur to it, he managed to lift his head. His eyes were drawn not to his friends, not to the Ancients, but to the torches spaced out along the walls of the chamber. Their strange, multicolored flames flickered and danced in a hypnotic pattern.

His brow furrowed as, to his wonder, they began to grow. It wasn’t anything flashy or big, just a little height, a little more volume. The different colors, the same six colors lighting up each of the Ancient’s seats, twisted and curled into one another. Danny wondered if his vision was getting even more blurry.

That was until the flames in the torch he was focused in on spun around each other and the colors bled into a brilliant white light. The colors were still there, on the outer edges, forming something of a halo around the white light and giving it a pearlescent, holographic effect.

With a start, he realized he’d seen this exact light before. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it had only been earlier that morning. The first time he felt the pull on his core. He’d seen it then. It had been distant and muted, not like the light now, but it was undeniably the same light.

The feeling in his core, the frail yet invigorating pulse of energy reached for the light.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware of Pariah’s energy lashing out within him, roaring in harmony with the king’s voice, trying to stop this new force.

He cannot take this from you, little Prince. This is yours. Do you see that now?

Danny reached for the light.

“Danny?”

Sam’s voice was muddy, but it was enough to make him blink in surprise. When his vision refocused, the torches looked the same as they had since he’d first stepped into the chamber, the multicolor flames still dancing their dance. Both the pulse of energy and Pariah’s stinging hold receded, back into the background. Distantly, he could still feel them pushing against each other.

He pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead. All these cosmic forces or whatever they were, why did they have to use his core like a playground? It was growing old very quickly.

“Here. Allow me.” Kalliope, who had not spoken a word since promising to help Danny, knelt in front of him. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and her calming aura immediately began seeping into him.

Still somewhat dazed, he looked at his two friends in turn. “Did you see that?”

Tucker frowned. “What? Was it another one of those earthquake thingies?”

“No, I -” Danny stopped himself. How did he even explain what he saw? He hadn’t been able to explain it earlier that morning; he didn’t exactly have the words now either.

And would they even believe him? Sam and Tucker probably would, eventually, but the ghosts in the room? Arguably, they should have been the ones more likely to believe him, but something in his gut told him they’d have a difficult time buying into it. Especially if the weird look Kala was giving him was anything to go by.

Slowly, he shook his head. “Never mind. I - It was just… my imagination. Or something.”

“But something happened.” Sam’s stubborn concern left a diluted, citrusy taste in his mouth. “Was it the Heart again?”

Whatever comfort Danny might have found in the strange light crashed back into distress. As much as it made him sick to admit, he’d somehow momentarily forgotten about what had triggered such a reaction in the first place.

He glanced up to the table of Ancients. Kala still regarded him with a strange look. Babel had taken to stuffing handfuls of yogurt in their mouth like popcorn. Pandora and Frostbite looked like they were afraid he’d keel over again. Concern sparkled in Zunje’s eyes too, but there was an undeniable intrigue there too. Pele even seemed to show the slightest hint of surprise.

Why did they have to stare at him like that?

“It’s… it was Pariah,” he finally muttered. “He’s moving. Fast.”

“Where to?” Kala asked, right as Pandora said, “How do you know?”

The king’s threats echoed in Danny’s head, and he swallowed thickly. “He’s going to Amity Park. He’s - he’s trying to…”

Sam and Tucker’s eyes widened in horror. “Wait, like right now?” Tucker squeaked. “We gotta get back there!”

“A strange choice,” Pele mused, folding her hands under her chin. “Why attack a human city first?”

A lump formed in Danny’s throat. “Because it’s my city. He’s trying to get to me.”

There was a beat of silence before Sam stood up, pulling Danny with her. “Well what are we doing sitting around here then? We have to go stop him!”

“Whoa, whoa, wait.” Zunje set her tablet on the table. “What about the Crown? We still gotta get that if we’re gonna want any shot at taking him down!”

“That’s fine! You guys go get it then!” The panic of knowing his city, his people were in danger was beginning to set in Danny’s stomach. “It’ll be fine, I’ll go hold him off until you get it.”

His friends immediately squawked in protest, and Zunje shook her head. “None of us can find it alone,” she said, and Danny could hear some of the desperation in her own voice. “You’re the only one who has a chance of finding it right now. It’s like I said, you’re the one who already has that connection.”

“I don’t have time to go flying all over the Realms trying to find a stupid crown! People’s lives are kind of at stake here!”

“Then we will go protect them,” Pandora said, standing. “They are just as much your people as anyone in the Realms. If they are yours, then we are in service of them as well.”

Well, he wasn’t a huge fan of what she was implying there… Neither was Kala, if his puckered expression was anything to go by.

Still, the Ancient stood as well. The clouds in his cloak had turned dark and heavy, like they were threatening to start pouring rain at any moment. The grip on his staff was tight and tense. “If we go defend this city of yours,” he began, arching an eyebrow, “then you must go find the Crown. Quickly.”

Danny hesitated. It made sense, he knew that logically, but the protective, heroic instincts he’d unwillingly built over the last two years were screaming to ignore everything with the Crown and go straight to Amity Park. Trying to rein in those instincts felt next to impossible.

Tucker’s brow furrowed in sympathy. “We can go with you, dude. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“Or,” Sam chimed in, not missing a beat, “we can go to Amity Park too. Make sure everyone is safe for you.”

While he hated the idea of the two of them putting themselves in the line of fire, he couldn’t deny how much he trusted them. These two had been by his side since he’d stepped out of that portal. Despite the arguments and the sleepless nights and the persistent danger, they too were just as determined as him to keep their city safe.

If he couldn’t be there himself, then he could only think of two people he trusted to go in his stead.

Danny took a deep breath and, before they could say anything else, wrapped his arms around Sam and Tucker, burying his face in their shoulders as they returned the hug. “I love you guys.”

“We love you too, you big dork.” He pretended to not hear the watery waver in Sam’s voice.

To be fair, his own eyes were pretty misty as well.

When he pulled away, his core and heart swelled with affection for them once more. Somehow, he knew they already knew what he wanted them to do, and the fact that they were fearlessly willing to do that - do that for him - just made him want to cry even more. In a good way, of course. A manly sort of cry. Obviously.

“Just… make sure everyone is safe,” he finally muttered, his voice hitching.

“Of course we will.”

“We need to move quickly.” Danny’s head snapped up as Kala spoke. “If he is moving as fast as you claim, then there is no time to waste.”

“Right. Yeah.” He wiped his nose. “Find an uber-powerful piece of jewelry. How hard can it be?”

“I’ll come with you.” Zunje was already stuffing her tablet into a shoulder bag. “Maybe I can help you track its energies. That’s kind of my thing, after all.” She grinned sheepishly. “I’m real good with books. Not so much my fists. Or weapons. Or any kind of fighting at all, really.”

“I’m afraid I am not much of a warrior either,” Kalliope said. “I would only be a hindrance. Perhaps I can help warn others. Evacuate the areas that will be within his reach.”

“I’ll do that too!” Sydney said quickly, as if he wanted to volunteer himself before anyone could ask him to fight. Danny really couldn’t blame the guy.

“Alright then.” Danny exhaled. Though the hot grip was still there in his core, he could still feel that new pulse of energy, as if it had been a part of his core all along.

Perhaps it has, little Prince.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. I doubt that, he thought back.

Babel clapped their hands together. “Sweet! This is gonna be a blast! I have a killer road trip playlist, you guys aren’t gonna want to miss this!”

If the pained groans of the other Ancients were anything to go by, Danny figured he’d definitely gotten the better end of the deal. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The rip was already beginning to close.

The moment Valerie had noticed it return, she had made a beeline for the back door. Getting around her coworkers emerging from the kitchen into the dining room to catch a glimpse of it had been a hassle, and she didn’t understand why they had waited until the fourth or fifth time the rift appeared to start gawking.

Then again, she didn’t understand why she had waited so long to take action herself.

Irving Burns had tried to reassure everyone that Phantom would be along to take care of it the second time it forked through the sky. Maybe some part of her wanted to believe that. Maybe just once she wanted to just ignore it and let Phantom do his thing so that she didn’t have to. Ghost hunting would always be her passion, of course, but even she recognized when it came to other supernatural problems, like rifts in the sky, she was way out of her league.

Half the time it usually seemed like Phantom was out of his league too, but at least he had a bit more of an understanding than she did. Not that she really trusted him of course, but he’d probably know more about these rips, why they kept appearing and disappearing, staying for longer each time.

Maybe he’d know why there seemed to be a void behind the rips, one with a darkness that was more than just darkness. Like… a black hole. All-consuming.

Terrifying.

By this time around, though, it was clear Phantom wouldn’t be showing any time soon. And if Phantom wasn’t going to step up and do something, the Huntress would. Terror or no.

But it had taken her too long to get outside. As the door slammed shut behind her, she could see it already closing, beginning to flicker in and out of existence.

No time to waste. She didn’t bother to check to make sure no one followed her. Everyone inside was too preoccupied with staring out the front windows.

Calling up her suit took little more than a simple thought. The nanotech whirled around her in a flurry of red and black, molding to her like she’d been born to wear it.

Part of her liked to think she really had been born to wear it. Like this was her purpose. One that called to her, fulfilled her, made her feel like she was truly making a difference in the world.

(Another part of her wondered if this was really it, though. Hunt after hunt, ghost after ghost. She wondered if she’d ever get the chance to do something more.)

The second her suit was done forming around her, her hoverboard shimmered into existence. Just as she took off, though, the rip flickered once, twice, then closed fully and disappeared.

Her teeth ground together, and she resisted the urge to punch the dumpster next to her. “Damn it.”

“See? I told you!”

The sudden shout startled Valerie, breaking her concentration and causing her board to fizzle out just like the rip had. She whipped her head to the mouth of the alley as her heart skipped three beats. Her stomach sank even lower when she recognized the two people standing there.

“Weston?” she said before she could stop herself. “What are you -”

Wes didn’t even seem to hear her. His eyes shone with triumph as he grinned widely. “I knew it, I knew it!” he shouted, pumping his fists in the air. He turned to his compatriot, looking more smug than ever. “And you didn’t believe me!”

Jazz Fenton pinched the bridge of her nose. “I never said I didn’t believe you. I said I wanted to make absolute certain first before we went barging in.”

Valerie’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Wha- I don’t…”

Jazz shot her a sympathetic smile. “Sorry about this, Valerie. I wouldn’t have done this under normal circumstances, but…” Her eyes flicked up to the sky. “These aren’t normal circumstances.”

“I’m not -!”

“Save it, Gray!” Wes jabbed a finger at her. “We saw you! You can’t deny it!”

“Listen.” Anger burned through her blood, vaporizing her hesitancy and surprise. Maybe it was an overreaction, but Wes Weston had always been a thorn in her side, constantly spouting off his crazy theories and acting as if he was better than everyone because of it. That smug attitude drove her up a wall.

Not to mention the fact that he was, for some reason, completely obsessed with Danny. Fenton, Phantom, or otherwise. Not that she really believed him, of course.

But something about it still got to her.

“Hey! Knock it off!” Jazz scolded. “This isn’t the time for this! You can… gloat or whatever later.” She returned her gaze to Valerie, her intense blue eyes making Valerie feel as if she was frozen where she stood. “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, but we could really use your help.”

Valerie hesitated. Frustration - at Wes for being so him, at Phantom for failing to show up and do the job he so loved to insist he had, at herself for being stupid enough to change before sweeping the area - still boiled in her, clouding her judgment. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off Wes’ face, tell Jazz to buzz off, and go figure out what on earth was happening to her town so that she could go home and take a long nap.

Really, she was only a few seconds away from doing just that when she caught the glimmer in Jazz’s eyes. Yes, there was the look of a true older sister there, wrangling both Valerie and Wes into behaving, but there was something else. Something Valerie couldn’t remember ever seeing in someone like Jazz.

Fear. And not the neurotic anxiousness Jazz Fenton was known for. This worry ran deep, enough to manifest in her eyes and in the crinkles of skin around them.

That glimmer was enough to cool the anger in Valerie and remind her that there were priorities.

Reluctantly, she folded her arms across her chest. “And why do you think I can help you?”

Jazz inhaled, and for a moment, the glimmer of fear shone even brighter. “There’s only one person who can probably truly fix this,” she said slowly. “The only problem is I have no idea where he is. My few methods of finding him have failed. That’s where you come in.”

Nausea formed a pit in Valerie’s stomach. She had a vague idea about where Jazz was going, and she dreaded it. “Who are you looking for?”

Wes rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, can you two stop beating around the bush already? Isn’t it obvious, Gray?”

Valerie, being the bigger person she was, sneered at him. He stuck his tongue out at her.

“Enough!” Jazz closed her eyes and inhaled again, shakily. Valerie was struck with the notion that the older girl was too used to this, too used to having to be the one person in the room with her head on straight. Between her scatter-brained parents and her sweet but horribly clumsy and disorganized brother, she probably had far too much experience with it.

Valerie closed her eyes. “Who are you looking for, Jazz?” she repeated, even as the nausea churned faster and faster.

Why did she have the feeling she knew exactly who they were looking for?

When she opened her eyes, Jazz was still staring straight at her. “My brother,” she said, much to Valerie’s shock. “And you’re the only one who can hunt him down.”

Someone on the street screamed.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #vlad masters #fright knight #valerie gray #hannah writes #supernova #not tagging every character not sorry #danny phantom fanfic #fanfic

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