Hoots and hollers erupted through the crowd of ghosts in the first wing as the Ghost Child who wasn't one anymore, waved her hands in the air, changing what suited her. Stephan couldn't believe how she killed her father in one swoop, without hesitation. The trauma must have been rough and too real to dismiss as fatherly love.
He'd been nearly murdered by a man sacrificing his daughters for his lifespan and now, the Ghost Child wasn't one anymore. Her blond hair flowed on her shoulders in silky wavy threads and now that he noticed it, beside all other ghosts, she was the only one with colors, beside the ghost of the forgotten of course.
Pulse racing, he got on his knees and watched as she changed the first wing. Normally, it was made in a way that resembled the old castle where she lived. Ghosts usually kept the memories if they had strong grudges and the Lord had strong grudges.
