Young Writers Society

He shook his head.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I've always been able to touch and see ghosts. It might have something to do with my father's side of the family, but I never met him and still don't know his name."

He regretted the words the moment they slipped out of his mouth. Reyes Eberhardt wasn't supposed to be missing his father. That was his problem and his drive.

His father was key to everything. He was sure of it. He was key to understanding his powers, why his mom shattered their family apart before it could even begin, and why he was able to stand before this group right now.

But if he was right on why he was like this, he couldn't avoid bringing up his father for too long.

Marciella bit back her frustration. This was getting them nowhere. He didn't know anything useful. None of them did.

She took a long look around, taking in the room around them, the staircase, everything.

"We should look around," she decided, "We cannot learn more from this room alone if we do not try to look around." Her accent had gotten thicker as her mind grew more distracted. With wheels turning, it was more difficult to mimic the accents of those around her. She hadn't even been aware that that was what she was doing until she stopped.

"Your father?" Tara asked. "Well, let's talk about my father. He's in prison. What does that make me?"

His confident expression faltered at Tara's comment. If he wasn't so focused on responding to her, he would have noticed that Marciella's accent had changed - and would have questioned where it could possibly be from.

He didn't say anything for a moment.

"...Normal," he quietly answered. "It makes you normal."

He moved away from the group, gaze traveling around the room as he tried to find something that would give them the answers they needed. Or maybe he was just trying to find a distraction - he didn't like thinking about his father when he wasn't directly searching for information. His mother hadn't liked talking about him unless she absolutely had to, either, but he had long suspected that it was because she didn't want him to know the truth about his heritage.

Without him really thinking about it, he raised his hand and held it over his heart - and over the scar that should have been underneath his jacket and shirt.

silver had been listening in on the two girls accidentally "well one of me dads is a draconian king what does that make me lassie?" silver would smile "cuz i am no prince haha"

It makes you normal.

Tara's eyes went distant. She'd never met her father; her mother had left when she was pregnant with her. To save her. To make sure she could have a normal life. As far as she was aware, her father didn't even know about her. She thought about visiting him sometimes.

For a moment she forgot about their situation. Then, she remembered.

"How are we going to get out here?" She asked, barely finding the breath to do so.

His hand returned to his side.

The doors were locked, and the windows wouldn't break. They couldn't outright leave the place right now. If they wanted to leave, they would have to find out the reason - and that would mean tracking down the ghost.

"We need to find the ghost," he said. "If she trapped us here, she might be the only one who could get us out."

Marciella nodded. That seemed as sound a plan as any.

"Where might we look for her, then?" she asked. He seemed the closest thing to an expert they had right that moment.

"ye can just follow me ill find her" silver would start to change forms into a white fox "cmon cant waste no time now can we?" he would sniff around "residue nearby follow me" he would run towards the basement door

Tara wasn't sure about Silver's claim, but it was better than nothing, and she doubted Gilderoy Lockhart was going to be much help.

So, reluctantly, she started to follow Silver.

Marciella held up a hand, "I'm sorry, how do you plan to track down this ghost?" she asked. He was awfully confident, a fact that she found unbelievably annoying. He was too much like the entitled pricks she had to deal with so often at court. All impulse, no thought, no explanation. The least suitable kinds of leaders.

"I was going to search the building for her," he said, "but Silver found residue-"

He paused.

...Why hadn't he picked up on that earlier? Silver had mentioned being able to smell the ghost. He had dismissed it as some ability he had never heard of or something that was partially faked, but it was clear that Silver had found something substantial.

But ghosts didn't leave residue, even when they were partials.

A small smile began to spread across his lips.

That was the reason he hadn't been able to touch her.

"We should go towards the basement," he said, "but not to find a ghost."

He looked back at where she had appeared earlier.

"She's not a ghost," he said. "She was something else. The residue is going to lead us to her, but we're not dealing with a harmful ghost."