A Ghostly Fate (Danny Phantom x Fate)

When he first heard the crows, he ignored them. They must have been dragged in with the rest of the human city.

Instead, Pariah Dark, High King of All Ghosts, looked in contempt at the two ghosts before him.

The one that called himself Plasmius, and a mere child.

‘But then, they weren’t full ghosts, were they?’ He mused as he held the two unconscious fools in his fist. A curious mixture of ghost and human. He had heard the ancient alchemists had been attempting to create such a blend, yet he had never sensed one being formed.

Clearly much progress had been made while he had been asleep.

Was their strength a result of that hybrid nature of theirs? Or was it their own efforts? Though far weaker than his own strength, it was still quite commendable. He could hardly fault them for being weaker than he was (though he could for their audacity in thinking that they were as strong as he). After all, even without his ring and crown few could challenge him.

Perhaps it was that thought, and the memories it evoked, that gave him pause when he felt a faint pulse.

A shiver went up his spine as he felt a presence begin to show. A presence he hadn’t felt in millennia.

This time, when the crows cawed, he listened.

Watchers of the divine, messengers across mythologies. But foremost, they were the representatives and watchers of the Gates of DunScaith.

His senses screamed, the sound of faint clanking of chains at the edge of hearing and a chill that had nothing to do with ghosts. Tossing the two whelps aside, he clenched his mace in fury as he slowly turned around and beheld a door forming.

No…

This was the Ghost Zone - to see a door in midair was hardly of any consequence. But to see this door?

“FRIGHT KNIGHT!” He bellowed out, the noise and the presence of the door stirring both halfa’s, yet he no longer cared. “Regroup the men! Defensive positions, and STAY BACK!”

“Sir! Immediately Sir!” The black knight responded instantly, his voice carrying a trace of panic as he hastened to do so.

He couldn’t hold it against his second in command. Fright Knight might be the only other ghost here that was old enough to remember… her.

The door continued to form slowly, large stone slabs engraved with images long worn down, supported by ancient pillars. The area around the door glowed red, a vivid contrast to the green skies of the Ghost Zone.

How could it be here? we had an agreement! He thought furiously, unless…  he gripped his weapon tighter. He had been asleep a long time. Who knows what she had been up to in his absence.

“Umm, anybody going to explain what… that is?”

Pariah glanced at the two not-ghosts with a sneer. “An enemy,” he replied bluntly, “Plasmius, this is your final chance to give me my Ring.”

Before he was imprisoned, he could match her in power without his artifacts. Now though? He had no idea. He was still shaking off the effects of being asleep for so long, and he had no idea if she had grown weaker or stronger in that time.

Either one was possible. She wasn’t a ghost after all. At this point, who knows what she was.

“Oh?” Plasmius perked up with a smirk, “Even if I did have it, why would you expect us to assist you? The enemy of our enemy is our friend after all.”

The child, who had smartly backed away while keeping a ready stance, looked at the older man incredulously, “you’re really going to antagonize the guy that just fried you a second ago?”

The man shrugged, “In business, you must learn when to strike no matter the circumstance.” He replied loftily, “besides, if Pariah were truly concerned, he could always give me the Crown instead.”

Pariah glared dangerously at the old man. Even if he was inclined to give that which he had earned, the odds of the man being able to use the power of the two artifacts right off the bat was… dismal. If he managed to survive.

Infinite power… Unlimited Strength… oh, it’s value was incalculable, but it did not make one unbeatable. It didn’t make one immune to damage, nor did it give one the ability to predict one's enemies.

He wanted to vaporize the ectoplasm out of the man for his gall, but he recognized the greed in the man.

Right now, he needed pawns, and greed was such a predictable thing.

“You are far too smug considering your position,” he bit out. “But I must rephrase your quote. Sometimes, the enemy of your enemy is also your enemy. And I can assure you, she…”

the stone doors gave a deep groan as they slowly opened.

“… is NOT your friend.”

Any further conversation was cut off as the doors opened fully, the red atmosphere changing to white as a chill settled over the city.

He felt a small tug on his essence, but it was easily ignored. Plasmius and the child looked disturbed at the sensation, but resisted as well. This wasn’t an attack after all - this was her simply opening her door.

Others were less fortunate.

Fright Knight had managed to regroup the army and was trying to move them away, but it wasn't going fast enough. Those closest to the portal shuddered, confused. They weren’t strong enough to prevent what was happening.

One by one, each skeleton began to levitate against their will, his entire army soon being dragged kicking and flailing to the vortex that now appeared in front of the gate. Some grabbed objects to stop themselves, but that only resulted in their bodies falling apart and turning into formless ectoplasm.

In moments, the entirety of his army that had been brought to this city was gone save for Fright Knight.

It might not have been an attack, but as far as power plays went, it was one that he could admire.

Seconds later the blurred form of a figure could be seen in the doorway. She was short, the size of a human, but there was a power about her not unlike a ghost

The Ruler of the Lands of Shadow, a dimension unto itself, much like the Land of the Living or the Ghost Zone. The Undying Witch of DunScaith.

She walked out and gave him a smile, “Lord Pariah,” she greeted him as she stroked her cursed spear, “it’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?”

She was there to fight him. He knew it, and she knew it, but that was no reason to disregard courtesy between rulers.

“That it has, Lady Scathach.” He greeted her, tilting his head politely while tightening his grip on his mace.

“That it has.”