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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/DropShotEpee on 2024-10-29 20:59:59+00:00.

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Ash the Gunslinger walked through the dense fog with heavy hesitation and a heavier purpose.

Beside her uneasy pacing was the idiotic swordsman, beyond her wary gaze was the haunted manor, and behind her was a dying man. Lune noticed we were being followed and stayed to keep us safe. I could have insisted on staying instead of playing dumb.

She could have, but didn’t — and if given the chance to do it over, still wouldn’t. Ash refused to be involved with the Holder Clan, Hunters, or any of that weird shit. Keeping her mouth shut was the best she could do. But her friend was being haunted – she was sure of that. 

And she hasn’t done anything wrong except being born in that cursed family, she thought bitterly. 

There were very few things that would have made her relieve the bedside stories her mom had told her. 

Fucking crazy, Ash thought, wincing in annoyance. Every single one of those fucks–nuts. I’m not getting involved with this shit. Much easier to play dumb. 

Granted, a large part of it wasn’t playing. She really had thought as a child that her powers had come from some magical and hopefully hot fae. Her mom had, however, already crushed those dreams long ago though, with words that now sent worse chills down Ash’s spine than the cold fog ever could.

‘Let tell you,’ Mother had said, in an icy voice, ‘about your terrible father, and the more terrible things he killed.’’

Her mother’s tales slipped and lingered like smoke, gone before her next breath, and forever in every breath that followed. She spoke of laughter without humor, screeches without mouths, and deaths without rest. Ghosts didn’t just haunt you—they hollowed you, turned the world strange.

As her mom fell silent, Ash saw her fingers tighten around two slips of paper, each wrinkled, as if they’d been clutched a hundred times before. Each had a different number hastily written. Lifelines, paths, or chains—Ash couldn’t tell which, and opted for neither. She would call upon no one, no matter what happened to her!

Yet her mother yapped on.

‘If you ever wish to become a Hunter,’ the woman had said, tapping at the first paper. ‘The head of your father’s clan–they’ll be thrilled to know you inherited their technique. Should you want to use your talents to save lives, this is the number to call.’

Ash could not see any reason for her to go for that choice.

Hell, why would anyone?

Gambling her life away to die in obscurity fighting Ghosts making no money. Yeah, wow, her mom had such a great point! Or, alternatively, she could use her skills for fame, bending rules as needed to claim an Olympic Gold and coast for the rest of her years. Much better.

Ash chose her sport very carefully–something big enough she could make a living out of, even if it involved turning that one medal into some social media influencer gig,but nothing that was popular enough to warrant scrutiny. That left out the hugely popular ones like soccer, tennis, and the common fuckery of ballsports.  

It wasn’t just that she hated attention, it was also that those more popular sports had fans who were downright obsessive and would probably have footage of her supernaturally manipulated shots uploaded online in no time. Not that they would immediately conclude she was cheating since they couldn’t prove it…but at that point, the Ghosthunting people would come knocking.

Ash would’ve given almost anything to avoid dealing with those fuckaloos.

Lisa, unfortunately, wasn’t one of those things.

Even in that wretched town that passed down prejudice down like heirlooms, Lisa emerged as something of a mutation in her bloodline. Her kindness was alien, an instinct her upbringing couldn’t have instilled within her - and that, in turn, made her a stranger in her own house.

All because she refused to pick on a new reason to hate someone every week, Ash remembered fondly. When I first moved here, I… Even to herself she dared not recount those times. What she managed instead was, If not for her, I would have killed myself. It was a frank thought, if incomplete.

Well, or killed like a lot of people, then gotten arrested, then probably gotten myself killed in prison, Ash conceded to herself. But whatever, the only reason I’m here now is because she kept the worst of this fucking town away from me. 

And it wasn’t just Ash that Lisa’d kept safe. As the town’s fading population attracted newcomers from all sorts of places, Lisa’s relatives were among the first, and far from the last, to immediately declare every stranger an enemy based on ill-defined reasons.

This worsened her relations with her family, naturally.

It was bad enough that Ash had been glad when she heard the Heir-to-the-Throne, Lisa’s uncle, had been killed. 

Oh no, the cruel rich fucks that liked to bully people out of a town, the same rich fucks that tried to run as a medieval kingdom were being murdered–what a fucking tragedy! Hell, the hardest thing at the time had been not to celebrate too openly.

But then the deaths continued to happen and the realization slowly dawned that they were happening in order of inheritance…which meant Lisa’s turn would come next. 

And that led Ash to looking at the second crumpled piece of paper she’d been left with.

‘This number,’ her mother had said, ‘is the one you call if you need help from a Hunter but have no interest in actually hunting anything. Be…warned, though, he might still try to make you go to the Frozen Castle. He was a bit of an eccentric guy last I talked to him.’

Once Ash would have died before calling that number. With Lisa’s fate hovering over her head, however, she didn’t so much as hesitate.

Not because she was above anxiously agonizing over her decisions, but rather because she was so good at doing precisely that. 

It was a lot easier when you just didn’t give yourself time to regret things. 

Which soon led to that now cursed call–

“That’s goddamn right!” Ash yelled at her phone as if it were to blame for everything. “Just–just get it sorted, okay? I don’t care how–and don’t let the Hunter idiots find out! I don’t want to be involved with them!”

‘Yay, yay, I gotcha!’ Borna responded, nearly singing the words. ‘I will throw you some of my people to deal with it, easy. No ghost, no context, no problem—they won’t even know what I’m gonna make them do. Ah, but full disclosure, I’ll tell them to drag you back here, though.’

“Let them try,” was her response. “That said, are you sure sending ignorant, uninformed guys is the best way to handle this? Feels like they’re likelyto fall short on that one.”

Borna’s answer came out still as if in a song, but the note was sharper, higher–a melodic electric guitar now. ‘My disciples are stupid, but they don’t lose.’

At the time, Ash had been filled with doubt. Today, though…she was quite glad they were stupid. They were being attacked by someone–maybe the one guilty of the murders–and the brooding-bad-boy had volunteered to stay behind to die heroically while they investigated. 

Which worked perfectly for her. It probably would’ve worked less well for the swordsman, but he was too dumb to have figured things out. Even now, as they neared the manor, he was still whining, ignorant of the gravity of the situation they just walked out of.

“Man, Lune is such a dick sometimes,” Caster whined. With a lazy flick of his foot, his boot cracked against the grimy ice, fragments skidding away. “Can’t believe he just left us to do the investigation by ourselves.”

Ash shook her head, playing along. “Yeah. He’s your senior in this ghosthunting shit right? Kinda rude to leave the hard part to you!”

“Damn straight, like super rude! Cold-hearted, goddamn. Gonna die of boredom at this rate.” Caster slouched, his mouth curling in a near-pout. With a sigh, he sank into a crouch, hands resting on his knees, looking every bit the picture of misery.“I mean, okay, this isn’t really the hard part, but c’mon–it’s not the fun one. And he’d be much better at this than me with his lie detecting thing so this is stupid! Guess he’s the guy who’s having it the roughest in the end, but man that’s still selfish!”

The Gunslinger gave pause. “What…what exactly are you getting at?” Sudden unease filled her. “Didn’t he say he just had to make a few calls?”

Caster looked up at her, eyes lighting up in confusion. “I mean, yeah, dude did say that. But words aside, he’s fighting someone isn’t he?”

Time slowed down to a crawl for Ash. Shit. He noticed that too? Was he playing dumb from the start? Was this a plan to have me admit I know more than I’m letting on? She drew a deep breath. No. I have no reason for thinking he knows that much. I’ll just play along for now. “Huh, you think he’s fighting someone back there?

Caster rose with an easy, unbothered stretch, brushing a stray fleck of dirt from his sleeve as if he had all the time in the world. “You don’t? I mean, you felt that Haunted Blood closing in right?”

Stay calm. Keep cool. “I’m even newer to this shit than you,” Ash said, lifting an eyebrow. “Don’t go lecturing me about what I should’ve noticed, hotshot, especially if you weren’t paying attention earlier. Already said I’m...

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