The moon hung low over Eldoria, spilling pale silver light across the sleeping kingdom. Houses of stone and wood lined the narrow streets, roofs slanting like tired shoulders. Torches flickered on doorsteps, warm pockets of gold in a cold world.
Neria drifted through it all.
Her steps looked like steps, the slow dragging glide of someone exhausted to their bones… but she wasn't touching the ground. Her translucent feet hovered an inch above the cobblestones. If she tried to tell someone, they wouldn't hear her. If she tried to touch a gate or a leaf, her fingers would ripple through it like smoke.
Not that there was anyone to tell.
Everyone was asleep.
She let out a long sigh as she moved down the quiet street, her chest rising out of habit, not necessity. Every breath reminded her how wrong she was, how impossible her existence had become. Two days ago she had been living in the city. Working. Laughing. Breathing.
Now....
She blinked wearily, forcing her drifting form forward.
"I'm so tired…" she whispered to herself, though no air carried the sound. It was a voice only she could hear, spoken inside her own mind.
Her legs felt heavy....again, an illusion. Ghosts didn't have muscles. Or bones. Or blood. But tiredness still clung to her like a physical weight. Maybe grief could tire even the dead.
She wandered past a bakery where the scent of old flour still clung to the windows. She remembered warm bread, soft pastries, the buzz of a busy street. She remembered music. She remembered laughter. She remembered....
A sudden ripple passed through her body.
Neria froze.
What was that?
Before she could process the warning prickling down her spine, a glowing circle flared beneath her. Lines of ancient runes ignited around her feet, humming with bright, dangerous light.
Her mind screamed.
"No—no no NO—!"
The ghost snare snapped shut.
A whip of electric force lashed through her entire form, pulling, dragging, choking without a throat. The ground beneath her dissolved into blinding light as the trap's magic clamped onto the very essence of her soul.
She screamed....loud, raw, full....but the world didn't hear a thing.
Her voice didn't ripple the air. Her agony didn't shake a single window.
Her scream belonged only to her.
The ring tightened. Runes surged brighter, twisting upward like a vertical cage. Her form flickered violently. She couldn't breathe she couldn't breathe she couldn't,.....
With a violent crack, the snare rejected her.
Like a slingshot, it hurled her backward, spitting her out of its boundaries as if her presence had overloaded it.
She flew several feet before collapsing to the ground.....or rather, above it. She curled forward, clutching where her heart should be, gasping for breath out of instinct alone.
"Air… air....." she choked, even though none entered. "Oh God…"
Her glowing body pulsed dimly. Her once.....clear outline now flickered like a dying flame. With trembling hands, she looked down at herself.
Skin: pale, but shining faintly.
Hair: drifting on an invisible breeze.
Fingers: translucent, fading at the edges.
Feet: not touching earth.
Chest: not rising.
A ghost.
The truth glared back at her every time she dared to look.
"I really… I'm really dead."
Her voice trembled inside her skull. Her ears rang with leftover static from the snare. It felt like someone had poured electricity into her spirit, and her entire being was struggling to hold itself together.
She didn't want to move again.
Not tonight.
Using what little energy she had left, she floated away from the street, back toward the only place she had learned was safe for her.....an old, ruined gazebo hidden behind a line of overgrown hedges. Its columns were cracked. Vines climbed its sides like nature reclaiming forgotten memories. But to her, it was shelter. It was quiet.
It didn't have ghost traps.
The moment she crossed into the gazebo's shadow, she collapsed onto the stone bench....passing through it halfway before willing herself solid enough to rest above it. A ghost's version of sitting.
Her whole form dimmed.
She hugged her arms around herself even though she felt no warmth. Her breaths were uneven, shakier in her mind than in the world.
"Why did I go out?" she whispered helplessly. "I should've stayed home. I'm so stupid…"
Her voice cracked. Or maybe her spirit did.
She buried her head in her arms, trying so hard to cry.
Nothing came out.
Her chest heaved, her shoulders trembled, her throat tightened....but no tears fell. Her eyes glimmered but never overflowed. The pain stayed locked inside her like a storm with no release.
It only frustrated her more.
"Great. I can't even cry," she muttered bitterly. "Of course. Why would I? I'm not.....alive."
The silence around her deepened. Somewhere far off, an owl hooted. Wind rustled through the trees with soft familiarity.
And for a moment....an unbearably small moment.....she wished she could go back.
Back to people. Back to a body. Back to breathing. Back to.....
Back to two days ago.
Her mind drifted, pulling her into the memory she had been trying to avoid since she woke in this world.
***********
City lights.
Warm air.
The smell of street food.
The laughter of teenagers perched on motorbikes by the roadside.
Traffic humming like a lazy river.
Home.
Mira paced around Neria's small apartment, hair messy, eyes red, wiping her nose aggressively with a tissue.
"I'm finished. Absolutely finished!" Mira wailed, throwing her arms in the air dramatically. "They fired me! Me! I mean.....okay....I may have been late a few times, but only like… ten times. Eleven. Twelve.....look, that's not the point!"
Neria sat cross-legged on the sofa, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
"Mira…"
"No! Don't 'Mira' me," her friend snapped, stomping toward the window and then stomping back like her emotions had short-circuited. "I'm jobless in Country Z! Do you know what that means?! I'll be living on ramen noodles and your charity!"
"You already live on my charity," Neria muttered under her breath.
Mira whipped around. "What was that?"
"Nothing," Neria said quickly, smiling despite the meltdown happening in front of her.
Mira dropped onto the couch beside her, sinking like a deflated balloon.
"I'm doomed," she groaned. "Just bury me in your closet."
"You wouldn't fit in my closet."
"Then bury me on your balcony."
"You won't fit there either."
Mira glared at her. "Are you calling me fat?"
"I'm calling you dramatic."
Mira hissed. "Same thing."
Neria snorted, the sound bubbling up like a small spark of joy. It felt good to laugh at her best friend's theatrics. It felt normal.
It felt like life.
"Look," Neria said, patting Mira's shoulder. "I'll get you ice cream to calm down."
Mira shook her head instantly. "No. Don't go anywhere. I need emotional support. Your emotional support. Ice cream is temporary. Friendship is...."
"Last time you said that, you made me walk to the mall alone because you were 'mourning your crush's marriage.'"
"I was emotionally fragile!"
"You were delusional."
Mira gasped, deeply offended.
Neria grabbed her jacket anyway, rolling her eyes fondly.
"I'll be right back. Don't break anything while I'm gone."
Mira narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Don't you dare go out....."
Neria grinned.
And stepped out the door.