The Keep's Ruler - Uniasus (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Of all the ghosts to float into his haunt, Fright Knight did not expect Danny Phantom. He was a skinny lad, but dying at fourteen would do that to you. Maybe once he grew into his powers and learned how to twist and hold his body into a different shape, he'd take on a more powerful visage. But right now, Fright felt like he was looking at either a toothpick or a baby.

Maybe both.

It didn't help that Phantom looked nervous. Fright crossed his arms and loomed, subtly stretching so he was taller.

"Why are you here?"

"You used to be Pariah Dark's knight? Leader of his armies?"

"Yes."

"And you're loyal to the crown, not Pariah?"

"Yes." Fright laid off the scare tactics, easing back into his regular height.

Phantom took a deep breath, flying up to eye level.

"I'm ready to claim it. The crown. But I don't know where it went. Can you help me?"

"You're ready to sit upon Dark's throne? To lead the Infinite Realms?" Fright's core thrummed. He'd been created by the Crown and Ring to guard them, both from usurpers and their wearers. He was created to serve, and it'd been so long since he could.

"I am."

"Then follow me."

Pariah's Keep no longer existed. It was simply The Keep now, a lair belonging not to a particular ghost but to the Realms itself. With no owner to anchor it, its form shifted regularly as did its location in the Realms. That made it notoriously hard to find unless one had a connection to it.

Phantom should have had the connection needed to find it, but perhaps he needed to bond with the Crown and Ring first. No need, Fright Knight could find the lair. He always knew where his charges rested.

The Keep currently looked like a cross between a castle and observatory – thick walls of grey stone, an entrance ten feet high with a wooden door covered in iron décor, and a clear dome for a roof with a telescope peaking out the back. Hovering about the entire island was a string of purple lights – the Realms' version of an aurora.

"Wow." Phantom came to a stop, staring at the aurora. "It makes sense the radiation here would produce different colors. And the green light on Earth would not be visible here, but oh wow. This is cool."

Behind his helm, Fright smiled. The sync between The Keep and Phantom's joys was a sure sign of the Realms accepting him as its leader. The glow of happiness on his face, his pleasure in simple things, well, it meant that Phantom would be kinder than Pariah Dark. He might not be a better ruler, he was so young, but kinder was a step in the right direction.

"It'll change further once you accept the kingship. Shall we go inside?"

"Oh, yes. Please."

They approached the keep on foot, and the large front door opened on its own as they approached. Fright took the lead, following the hallways and cutting through rooms, as he honed in on the exact location of the royal jewels.

He found them in the throne room, which in this version of The Keep was the center of the observatory. There was a small, three-legged stool positioned just right to look out the telescope and floating above it, encased in ice, where the Crown and Ring.

Another sign of the Realm's budding connection to Phantom – they'd switched cores to match his. Fright Knight wondered if his would follow. It'd been so long since there had been a change in leadership that he couldn't remember everything that would happen during a regime change. The ruling lair and tools would sync to the king, he remembered that, but greater parts of the realm would too the longer Phantom ruled.

Allies' lairs grew, Fright remembered that.

How odd. Here was Phantom, looking to be crowned, and there were no witnesses. Where was Frostbite, who worshiped Phantom even as he fathered him? Clockwork, the mentor who guided him from the wrong paths? Pandora, who taught him about the Realms, and the worlds beyond some of the doors? Doreatha, who had skills ruling?

"Where are your advisors?"

"Advisors?"

"Ghost who would help you lead. You are young, have you led anything?"

"Not even a group project at school."

"You will need help in managing the Infinite Realms. They are vast."

"I have you."

Phantom looked up at him with a smile, all blob-ghost innocence, and Fright knew he would of course help the younger ghost. It was his job, his purpose.

"You said you were ready to claim the crown. If you put it on your head, and it lets you, the Realms are yours. Don't you want witnesses to this moment?"

"Not really. I don't want this to be a big thing. I don't want ghosts fawning over me, or making demands. I don't even want to announce I've been crowded."

"Ghosts will notice."

"I figured they would eventually. I want a subtle kingship, Fright Night. Pariah was scary and oppressive. But the Realms have worked well for most of the time he was asleep. I don't want to impose, to change the culture of the Realms. I'm only here to keep people, ghosts and humans, safe and I think accepting the Crown of Fire and Ring of Rage is the best way to do that."

Fright looked down at Phantom. He was so small and so young by any measure. But his core was powerful, as was his heart. Maybe he was right for the Realms, and Fright was just nervous because of the contrast to Pariah. Danny Phantom had the makings of a well-respected Ghost King.

"Very well. If you're ready to accept the mantle of Ghost King, please sit."

He gestured to the three-legged stool and Phantom perched on it, tail wrapping around a metal leg. Fright Night gently plucked the Ring of Rage from the air and slid it on Phantom's finger. It shrunk, the ice band hugging his finger, the stone a large ice crystal so clear it could be a diamond. The aurora above The Keep pulsed, and the Ring reflected the purple light around the room.

"The Ring of Rage, used to protect the Realms," Fright Knight said.

He reached for the Crown and slowly guided it down until it rested on Phantom's white hair. Its grand peaks of icy points shrunk, transforming from crown to circlet, hard to see amongst Phantom's hair except for the way it shined, catching the light of the aurora, the green of the sky, the pale blue that had to be the color of his core.

Subtle, but there if you looked. Just like the power under Phantom's ectoplasm. Just like the type of ruler he wished to be.

The Keep shuddered as it changed. The observatory grew taller and through the clear dome Fright could see the island get longer before the castle extended its lower levels. Turrets formed, each topped with a star, the top point even with the base of the dome. The aurora above stretched, snaking around the entire lair before coming back to bisect the sky in an arch.

Through the changes, Phantom held onto the eyepiece of the telescope for balance. When it stopped, he looked up at Fright for answers.

Fright Knight dropped to his knees, head bowed. "Phantom's Keep is now yours, my liege."

"Cool."

The first ghost to visit King Phantom was not who Fright Knight expected. Vlad Plasmius landed on the edge, striding confidently up the cobblestone path. Fright watched him from the ramparts over the front gate, willing it to keep close.

Plasmius glowered at the gate before knocking.

"What do you seek from our King?"

Plasmius's head shot up, surprised to see Fright above him.

"I wish to congratulate him on his coronation, as well as to offer my services as advisor."

Fight wanted to say no. He didn't trust Plasmius – his reputation for hiring spies and hunters proceeded him, outsourcing some of the work needed to complete his obsession. An obsession wrapped around the Realm's new king.

He opened his mouth to refuse him entry, but Phantom appeared at his side. He patted Fright's chest piece, the hollow armor quietly echoing. "Let him in, I trust him."

And so Fright did. He couldn't resist a command from his king, from the ghost the Crown and Ring had chosen. But he still thought it suspicious Plasmius was the first to come, and so soon too. Phantom's Keep had only just stopped shifting.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Danny's first indication that something was wrong was acid reflux. He played it off as a reaction to the smell of formaldehyde from the piglets in biology, but acid reflux wasn't usually paired with the sudden sense of a rubber band squeezing his head or his blood turning to ice water. Thankfully, he looked pitiful enough that he was sent to the nurse, where Danny laid on his back, eyes squeezed tight, and tried to ride out the sensation.

The second was how off FentonWorks felt when he got home. It was as if the very air had turned sour, but no one else in the family noticed. It made Danny’s mouth feel dried out, like the one time he sampled wine from a bottle he found in the back of a cupboard, and he kept reaching for water to wash out the taste in his mouth.

The third was how he couldn’t get to sleep because of what he no longer thought of as an acid reflux/migraine combo. His chest ached, and three tablets of Tums and two painkillers hadn’t helped. His ribs were sore as if he’d been coughing for a minute nonstop. He froze a hand and put it on his side as an ice pack. Something in his chest lurched toward it.

His core. His core was causing him pain, fluttering around his rib cage, bumping into bones.

He transformed, and the sour, puckering nature of the air felt worse. But he could identify it now. Something about the ambient ectoplasm in FentonWorks was wrong.

Danny sat up in bed, instantly alarmed. Ambient ectoplasm in Amity Park was highly dependent on what the portal spat out, and as such the house served as a litmus test for the town’s future. Before he forgot, he texted the group chat - test ambient ectoplasm - and phased through two floors to the basem*nt lab.

The portal looked thin, for lack of another word. Like someone had stretched dough and small rips formed where the dough was too thin and the tension too strong. Through the gaps, he could see the metal on the other side, softly glowing at the seams.

Danny stuck his hand through the portal, pulling up the energy of his core. One of the holes filled, but when he pulled his arm out the area started to tear again.

Another hole appeared, small, but close enough to another the membrane between them ripped to create a larger gap.

If this continued, the portal would be nothing but shreds by the time school started.

Danny stuck both hands into the portal, pulling up the energy he used for an ectoray. The power seemed to keep the portal together, and there was a strange willingness of it to obey. Not that ambient ectoplasm usually had emotions and thoughts like ghosts, but there was a noticeable stretch of the portal from around his hands. An eagerness to how it moved in closing the gaps.

Danny had power. A lot of it, he knew, even if he didn’t like to think about it. He poured all he could into the portal, especially when a strange resistance showed up, adding confusion to the ectoplasm. Which way to go? To seal or to tear?

But no matter how charged his core, Danny couldn’t hold the portal open forever. Eventually, he ran out of energy, transforming back into his human form, and collapsed to his knees. The portal quickly pulled apart and with a mournful wail shut down. His headache disappeared, but his chest continued to ache.

He stood there, staring at the inside of the portal, a place no one had seen since The Incident until the buzzing of his phone distracted him. Texts from Jazz.

What’s up?

You aren’t in your bed. Are you fighting someone? Do you need me?

It’s been an hour – are you hurt? Where are you?

Oh. The air went dead.

Danny sent back: That’s cause the portal went dead.

Five minutes later she was tip-toeing down the stairs to the lab in her pajamas, coming up beside him to stare into the machine that had taken Danny’s life. The electric scars were still there – warped metal shiny from the heat – but most of the panels were grimy and the glow Danny had seen before was completely gone. There was no ectoplasm at all in the portal, and it gave off the sense of something dead.

“What happened?”

“I think someone ripped the portal free.”

“That's possible? Who could do that? Who would?”

“I don’t know. But I think someone didn’t want travel between our world and the Zone.”

“Is that...bad?” Jazz hedged. “No more ghost fights.”

“Eh, they haven’t been serious for a while now. It’s more like sparring. But I had friends on the other side.” Danny stared down the center of the metal tunnel. He tried to avoid looking at the evidence of his death, but it was hard. “I also had Skulker in the thermos. He got two days of soup time, and today was day two.”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Let’s do it now. I’ll be right back.”

He’d used too much energy trying to keep the portal open, so Danny went the mortal way to his room. He winced when he saw the pink of dawn creeping into his bedroom window. He hadn’t realized he’d fought that long to keep the portal open, but it had been a couple of hours. It’d be a miracle if he didn’t pass out before lunch.

Drawing the dregs of power from his fingertips, Danny stuck his hand into his mattress to pull out the thermos. He carried it gingerly but quickly to the basem*nt, where Jazz was describing the nature of the portal to a groggy pair of teens.

"Oh, Danny's back."

"Danny?!" The duel tones of Sam and Tucker came through the phone. "What happened?"

"Not quite sure, but let's see if Skulker does." He unscrewed the thermos and in a burst of light Skulker appeared, looking confused.

"That didn't seem like two days."

In response, Danny pointed behind Skulker, who turned to look at the dead portal.

"It gave up the ghost about twenty minutes ago. I was hoping you had an idea?"

Skulker flew closer, running a hand along the outside of the machine. Danny noticed he took extra care to not cross the line into the tunnel, and something in him eased. He didn't want anyone to step inside. Ever.

"There's no damage to the machine."

"Nor did I touch it. I fed ectoplasm into the portal to keep it open."

Skulker looked at him, eyes on his chest before continuing his examination. "It was closed from the other side. That's the only explanation."

"Who could even do that?" Tucker asked through the phone. "I thought the portal was self-sustaining."

Skulker looked uncomfortable, eyes darting to Danny, even as he stepped further and further from the portal. It clicked. Only one thing made ghosts that uncomfortable.

"Me. I was powering the portal because it formed in me."

"We always assumed so. Phantom's Portal, we call it. It has a similar energy to you. The only one who should be able to close it would be you."

"But I didn't. I tried to keep it open. Something else forced it to rip."

"We need to make sure this isn't a bigger issue," Jazz said. "Is it just this portal?"

"Hey Skulker," Sam called through the phone. "You know where Vlad's portal is?"

"The one in Plasmius's lab? Yes."

"Check it out," Danny commanded. "If I don't see you after school, I'll assume it's open and you went back to the Zone."

"And if it's not?"

"Then come back here. It's in our best to figure out what happened."

Danny dragged himself through classes, the teachers taking pity on him as he obviously hadn't recovered from what had hit him the day before.

"Maybe go home?" Mr. Lancer lightly suggested.

"Feel safer here," Danny muttered into his elbow. He probably shouldn't have been so honest, but well, he was pretty tired.

Tucker and Sam got him through the day, all three of them piling into Jazz's car for the trip to FentonWorks.

"Bets Skulker didn't return?" Sam asked.

"No bet," Danny said. "It felt like someone targeting my portal specifically. What reason do they have to close Vlad's?"

"Especially if it was Vlad," Tucker added. "Probably some attempt to have Dalv Co. beat out FentonWorks for a contract. For a two-person shop, your folks are prolific, Danny."

Danny grunted. They were prolific because of their one-track minds. Sometimes it was a curse, sometimes it was a blessing.

They were wrong. When Danny opened his bedroom door, it was to Skulker performing the petty vandalism of scrapping off his glow-in-the-dark stars from the ceiling.

Danny's core sunk. If something had the power to take out two portals –

"Plasmius still has his portal," Skulker said. "I could feel it, but he's put a shield up around his mansion. I can't get in to use it."

"Oh, he totally planned this," Tucker said.

"If he did, he didn't tell anyone what he was doing. His vulture goons were trapped on the outside too. Have been for a few days. And they were able to confirm Plasmius hasn't left the house in nearly a month."

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right. He has access to the Zone. I don't. It can't be too nefarious, right?"

If it was super serious, Clockwork would step in. Danny took a deep breath. Yes, Clockwork had stepped in before when things had been on a terrible track. If this was the start of something similarly bad, there'd be a sign.

The thought shouldn't have brought comfort to him, but it did.

"Okay. Skulker, you can stick around if you don’t cause havoc. Otherwise, you're soup until this is figured out."

He rubbed his chest, feeling odd. Was he that dependent on the ambient ectoplasm? It felt like his core was still bouncing around in his chest, not as upset as last night, but still not at peace.

"I'll pay a visit to Vlad this week."

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Plasmius settled himself into Phantom's Keep quickly, never leaving once he arrived. Neither did Fright Knight, but that was the way things were supposed to be. It was not normal for mere advisors to move into the king's lair. It made him wary, and Fright was reluctant to let Phantom out of his sight.

In obeying its ruler's wishes, the Ghost Zone quietly accepted its new king. No announcements went out. No large portions of the Zone changed. There was a slight shift in the ambient ectoplasm around Phantom's Keep. A drop in temperature. A tension in the air, as if the Keep were on one end of a tug-of-war rope.

"It itches," Phantom complained, rubbing at his chest.

"Shifts in power often do," Fright advised.

Phantom looked at the Ring of Rage on his finger, his faceted reflection gazing back at him from the modest stone. "Not sure I like it."

"That's a sign of you being a good king. You are aware of your power, and you will not use it unwisely."

"I think it would itch less," Plasmius offered, "if you concentrate your power. The Ghost Zone is confused between your two haunts."

Fright Knight turned his fiery gaze on the halfa. It was…plausible. In the past, a ghost's lair would merge with the Keep. But with Phantom's original lair being on the other side of the portal, there would be a pull, a tension over what should be his seat of power.

"You should destroy Amity Park."

"Excuse me?" Fright said, placing a hand on his hilt.

"Oh, I don't mean destroy it like attacking the town. I mean destroy your connection to it." Vlad spread his arm wide, encompassing the view out of the observatory dome. "This is where you are meant to be. Ruling the Ghost Zone from its center. Holding its members in your hands."

Phantom shifted on his feet.

"I'm simply suggesting that you close the portal to Amity."

Phantom looked up at that, a relaxed smile on his face. "Oh, I can do that. Good idea, Vlad."

"Are you sure?" Fright asked. "Doing so would cut you off from your family and friends."

"But they're all here?" Phantom sounded genuinely confused, looking between Fright Night and Plasmius.

Fright never asked Phantom why now. Why, after originally not claiming Pariah's tools of rule, had he come to The Armory to ask for help in finding The Keep.

This didn't feel right.

"Then what's the harm?" Plasmius said with a grin. "If the Ghost Zone knew exactly where its king declared home, I'm sure the itching would disappear."

And like so many of Plasmius's suggestions over the past few days, Phantom took it.

"The Ghost Zone obeys its king's wishes, Daniel. And this is nothing more than that, a wish for the portal to close."

Phantom sat on his throne, the same three-legged stool beside the telescope, and closed his eyes. Plasmius placed his hands on Phantom's shoulders. "Imagine the portal in your core. And now, imagine the Zone folding around it to close a gap."

"My King, are you sure-"

"I'm sure, Fright Knight. We can't have the Zone be confused, and my core is really itchy."

He frowned but held his tongue. He could only advise, and if Phantom did not wish to consider his point of view, that was his prerogative. It bothered him though – Phantom had always tried to listen to others, had always sought advice from his allies in the Realms.

Plasmius had been his foe for so long. What changed?

Fright Knight kept his hand on his hilt, staring at Plasmius as he coached Phantom through the act of closing the portal.

"I didn't think it'd be this hard. It's resisting me."

"You can do it. Just tap into the Ring and Crown."

Both items grew brighter as Phantom worked to close the portal, the strain making him grit his teeth. Plasmius leaned heavier on Phantom's shoulder. "You can do it, Daniel. I know you can."

The longer it went on, the tighter Fright's grip on his sword became. Something about the way Plasmius dwarfed Phantom made him nervous and protective. The tension in the air around Phantom's Keep increased, not lessened, as Phantom tried to close his portal.

Phantom was king, the Realms were his to command. And even if he wasn't, his portal was an extension of himself. It should be easy for the King of the Infinite Realms to control a part of himself.

"Plasmius," Fright Night said, drawing Soul Shredder, "I suggest you step away from my King."

"Got it!" Phantom panted. "Portal closed."

"I'm so proud of you, Daniel," Plasmius said, locking eyes with Fright Knight. "You were the only person who could have closed that. I have a treat for you."

"Yeah?"

Fright held his sword steady, a threat, a request for an explanation. He didn’t have cause to attack, he couldn't decimate his king's preferred advisor without it. Phantom ignored the blade entirely, trusting the ghost behind him.

Plasmius kept his gaze on Fright, hand dipping into a pocket. "Open wide."

Phantom obeyed, didn't even question the command, and Plasmius popped something into his mouth before holding it closed.

Fright held still – had he fed Phantom candy? He couldn't put his king in danger, couldn't act until commanded or identified a threat.

Phantom started convulsing.

With a roar, Fright Night dropped his sword and lunged for Plasmius. Plasmius ducked, still keeping Phantom's mouth closed with one hand under his chin and the other on the crown of his head. Phantom went tumbling from the throne, scrambling at Plasmius's hands weakly.

"What, you're not going to slash me?" Plasmius laughed. "Am I too close to your king? Worried you'd hit him?"

Fright Knight fired a pink ecto ray, hitting Plasmiu's shoulder. The halfa winced but refused to let Phantom out of his grip.

Phantom's convulsions increased, starting from his stomach as he tried to expel the poison, but his closed mouth made it difficult. Fright split himself, turning into a dozen bats scratching at Plasmius's face and hands. The halfa screamed as Fright got an eye, little bat wings yanking it out. He clutched his bleeding face, dropping Phantom to the floor where he immediately began reaching.

What came out of his mouth was a deep red, the aura of it strong enough Fright took a step back. "You fed our king blood blossoms?"

"Your king, not mine," Plasmius hissed, standing to his full height before duplicating himself thrice.

Phantom reached again, sobbing. "Why, Vlad?"

Plasmius ignored him, diving for Soul Shredder. Fright shoved him out of the way, getting there first, and swiping at the halfa. It disappeared, duplicate. He swung at the next one, also a duplicate that exploded in a poof of pink smoke.

Fright whirled around, looking for the real Plasmius. He stood over Phantom, weakly lying on the floor.

"Dad," Phantom said, reaching up with a sob. "Dad, I don't understand."

Plasmius drove a glowing syringe into his side and within seconds Phantom started to melt.

"No!" Fright screamed, lunging forward.

But it was too late. Ectoplasm dripped from Phantom's shoulder, joining the vomited-up blood blossoms. As his arm lost definition, Plasmius lifted the dying king's right hand and slipped off the Ring of Rage. Then, he snatched up the crown before it could fall into the ectoplasm puddle.

"Clones make such a mess, don't you agree?" Plasmius said as he adorned himself. The Ring went on easily, becoming an ostentatious ruby. The Crown he placed on his head himself, the simple cornet turning into Eastern Crown, spikes of fire jutting up from the band.

Fright Knight froze. They had taken. The Crown and Ring had accepted a new king upon his defeat of the previous ruler. They had synced.

Even when Pariah Dark had taken the mantle of King, Fright Knight hadn't been so nervous. Pariah had turned dark, corrupted by power. Plasmius would run the Realms into the ground.

"I think you should bow to your king." Plasmius stood tall and made himself taller, elongating his legs.

Fright Knight grit his teeth and dropped to one knee. Above him, Phantom's glass dome shattered and the Keep started its adjustment to match Plasmius's image of the Keep.

"Now clean that up," Plasmius said, pointing to the remains of the king Fright had been looking forward to serving. He marched out of the crumbling observatory, cape flapping, to start imposing his rule.

Against the floor, Fight Knight clenched his fist, but he had to obey who the Ring and Crown chose.

He had to obey the Ghost King.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Plasmius’s time advising Phantom hadn’t gone to waste. He paid better attention than Fright Knight expected and had generally worked out the rules binding Fright. He couldn’t go against a direct order. He couldn’t endanger the king; in fact, he had to prioritize his safety. But Fright couldn’t act on suspicions, he needed proof.

The only thing Plasmius didn’t figure out was that Fright Knight was loyal to the literal Ring and Crown, not the figurative Ring and Crown, the one who ruled the Realms.

Functionally, they were the same. Who but the king would wear the royal jewels?

Fright Knight took his patrol of Plasmius’s Keep slowly. It had transformed into a style of building he was unfamiliar with, boxy and flat with rows of reflective windows. It had developed a back garden, mainly small rolling hills of green. And tucked away, hidden by a copse of trees, was Phantom’s observatory.

It shouldn’t exist. Putting aside the fact that the Phantom Fright had crowned was a clone, the Ring and Crown had chosen a new ghost to sync with. A new ghost to serve as Ghost King. The Keep should have completely reformed itself in Plasmius’s image, but here was this tiny corner left.

The observatory was in ruins, of course. A crumbling circle of stone with large jagged pieces of glass scattered around, glinting like stars. Of the telescope, only the eyepiece remained.

In the center of it all, pristine, was the three-legged stool.

Plasmius might have wanted this little corner of the Keep. A memento of the plan he concocted to trick the Realms into giving the Ring and Crown to an easy opponent. A memorial of the clone he raised to slaughter.

But there still was a faint pull in the air, a tension Plasmius didn’t seem to notice. Sometimes, there was a flicker of a purple aurora in the air over the garden. While Fright Knight had been ordered to secrecy, hiding the fact that King Phantom had been a clone, he knew the truth.

Maybe The Keep did too.

The Ring and Crown had accepted Plasmius, and as such it was Plasmuis who had Fright’s servitude. But if there was even the chance of them switching allegiances, Fright wished for it.

He turned away, quick to get on with his security patrol. If Plasmius wasn’t aware of the observatory, Fright didn’t want to lead him to it.

Unlike the clone, Plasmius did not want a subtle kingship. As soon as The Keep had finished rearranging, he’d used the power of the Realms to make it obvious to everyone there was a new king. Ghosts flocked to The Keep to pay respects – all of them expecting Phantom.

“Where is our Great One?” Frostbite shouted from the front of the building. “Where is the one who defeated Pariah Dark?”

Fright Knight stood before the doors to Plasmius's Keep silently as yeti after yeti shouted their questions.

“Fright Knight, what happened?” Frostbite pled, addressing him directly. “The Crown was Phantom’s. What did Plasmius do to steal it?”

Fright tightened his grip on his sword, praying that the leader of the Far Frozen wouldn’t take another step. Hold the line, Plasmius had ordered. Anyone who crosses it, send them away.

“Please,” Frostbite said, “What don’t we know?”

He stepped forward, shaggy body chiming with the decorative ice crystals he had donned for a celebration. In doing so, he stood too close to the door.

Send them away.

In a single fluid movement, Fright drew and swung Soul Shredder, catching Frostbite in the chest. The yeti disappeared, sent to the Nightmare Realm.

Screams started and ghosts rushed for the edge of the lair, some taking to the sky as they fled. When Fright sheathed his sword, the remains of the crowd settled down.

Dorathea stepped forward, still out of the range of his sword’s reach. Smart woman. Like the others, she’d come dressed for a celebration. Her dress had shifted to darker hues and was now covered in silver embroidery representing frost curls. Her circlet had been replaced with a tiara, shining with three dark green jewels. It singled her out – she was one of the few leaders in the Realms who understood ruling as the Realms determined it. Not just those who stood up to lead, but those who were tied to their lairs, who in turn had residents tied to them.

“I understand you’re following orders,” Dorathea said, “but what can you tell me?”

Fright Night said nothing.

“Can you tell someone else?”

As Plasmius’s rules had been specifically that he couldn’t talk to Phantom’s allies, Fright was able to shallowly nod.

Dorathea frowned before scanning the crowd. All of them were, in some capacity, Phantom’s allies. Yeti’s of The Far Frozen. Lemures from Ancient Lands. The general populace from Dragonvale.

"Anyone here?"

Fright shook his head.

"Do we need to prepare for war?" Pandora asked.

Fright didn't move. He didn't know.

The warrior grimaced, before turning to her lemures and instructing them home. Slowly, the crowd before Plasmius's Keep disappeared. The ground was littered with dropped trinkets and broken jewelry, scrapes of cloth. Fright watched the remains of a nonexistent celebration get absorbed into the ectoplasm of the Keep until Plasmius showed up.

"Any problems?"

"No, my king. I do not believe any of them will return."

He frowned. "I need an adoring populace."

"You have the power of the Realms. You don't need them to like you."

"But I do," Plasmius muttered.

"No leader is loved by everyone," Fright said. "They still rule."

Fright looked out at the front of Plasmius's Keep, which not that long ago had been eager to celebrate the coronation of the Realm's new king. They came for Phantom, not Plasmius.

No one would come for Plasmius.

"Maybe you're right," Plasmius said. He twisted the ring on his finger. "Besides, it's not like she'll know."

The halfa walked off, deep into his 'office', as he called The Keep.

Fright Knight went to walk the grounds.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

It took Danny roughly a week to recover from what Skulker called core depletion. Using so much of his energy trying to keep the portal open that he'd put his ghost on the line.

"You're lucky you're human. Otherwise, you would have put your all into that and evaporated."

Pleasant thought. Because the Zone was closed, it was hard to recharge. The ambient ectoplasm in Amity Park acted like a heavy gas, it lingered at ankle level and didn't spread easily, but it did spread, stirred up by cars and bikes and people walking. Danny needed to be at full power sooner rather than later, so he walked a different path to school every day, hoping to absorb any ectoplasm he could through his exposed ankles before it left town. He didn't want to think about what would happen when all the small pockets of ectoplasm were gone.

Vlad's vultures, miffed at being left out of the man's plans, had taken up the role of watchdog. They spied on Vlad's manor, one of them reporting back to Danny and Skulker every night. So far, there'd been no change. Other than the mail pile being so high the mailman stopped delivering junk mail.

"You can stop getting junk mail?" Danny still wondered a day later.

Jazz hit the back of Danny's head. "Can you focus?"

"Sorry, sorry."

They were in Danny's bedroom, dismantling the various weapons they'd stolen over the past few days from the lab. Danny didn't let Skulker touch them. Some like the Jack o' Nine Tales were coated in anti-ghost finishes, but he let the ghost look over their shoulders as the teens worked. What was the harm? Danny doubted that any of them were weapons Skulker could replicate.

Danny paused in prying apart a panel to rub at his chest. Skulker, oddly in tune with Danny this week, caught the motion.

"Your core still aches."

Sam and Jazz stopped what they were doing to frown at him. Tucker, familiar enough with Fenton tech, continued to dismantle the Spector Deflector while glaring at Danny. "Dude. You're supposed to tell us these things."

"I'm fine."

"Danny."

"Really, Jazz. It doesn't ache per se as…bounce? Itch? It keeps brushing against my ribs." He turned to Skulker. "I didn't think cores moved."

"They usually don't, but you…"

"Have organs?" Sam offered.

"Are unique," Skulker finished. “It’s why I’m so eager in your pelt.”

Danny ignored that last part. "It started behaving like this the day the portal ripped. I just think it's reacting to it being closed."

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered.

"Don't be." Sure, the portal had been connected to him in a way Danny hadn't realized until after it was gone. But it wasn't Sam's fault. It wasn't anyone's.

With a grunt, Jazz pulled free a small gel capsule from the Fenton Finder. “Tada!” she displayed it on her palm. “Who needs it?”

Danny looked at Skulker. “How tired do you feel?”

Skulker crossed his arms. “I’m fine.”

Danny wanted to call him out, but Skulker was an adult and not in an immediate health crisis. Danny let it lie. He held out his hand for the capsule. “I’m not topped up yet.”

Jazz dropped it into his palm. Danny stared at it before popping it into his mouth. He grimaced. Raw ectoplasm never tasted good, especially something as distilled as this. He shuttered and reached for a nearby water bottle, chugging.

“You good?” Tucker asked.

“Tastes awful, but yeah.” He transformed briefly, running a test on his basic powers. He felt like he’d just taken a 5hr Energy Shot, body buzzing. He felt more than ready to fight Vlad if he needed to.

“You just ate ectoplasm.” Skulker sounded disgusted.

“I mean, yeah? That was the point of destroying all these gadgets. Get at the ectoplasm powering them. There’s not enough in the air anymore to recover quickly or keep me going in a minor fight. We’ll need to pop these if we fight Vlad.”

Skulker’s face was made of metal, but Danny picked up on the grimace.

“Oh,” Jazz said, leaning forward. “Ghosts don’t actually eat, do you? Can you eat one of these? You have a mouth. Do you only consume ectoplasm through the air via diffusion?”

Sam covered Jazz’s mouth with her hand. “Sometimes, it’s easy to connect you to your parents.”

“Hey!”

“I don’t need to eat it. I can just absorb it. Place it on my skin. I don’t need one now, but I’ll take a spare.”

It took most of the evening to rip apart the Fenton gear apart. With the portal closed, and no way for ghosts to cross, Danny didn’t feel as guilty about destroying his parents’ stuff as he would in another situation.

By the time they had pried free the last ectoplasm battery, they got their nightly vulture visitor. He flew in silently, turning intangible for only the time needed to phase through the glass. Danny noted he was visible too. They were all trying to preserve energy.

“Got some news,” the vulture said, alighting on Danny’s desk.

“Good or bad?” Sam stuffed the last bit of tech into a pillowcase.

“Both?” He tilted his head, fez wobbling. “There’s a ghost in the mansion.”

Danny sat up straight. “Who?”

“I don’t know, but they’re trapped by the ghost shield. So we know his portal is active!”

“We already guess that,” Skulker grumbled.

“They also had some not-great news. There’s a new Ghost King.”

“Guess we’re taking a field trip,” Danny declared.

Fright Knight paused as he did his rounds of the interior of Plasmius’s Keep. There were two ghosts at the far end of the island. They were poorly hidden, anyone who looked out of the Keep from its upper stories would see them, but as Fright hurried to the grounds he determined they were invisible from the back door thanks to the rolling hills of the garden. They were still being stupid; Plasmius could look out the window at any time.

He kept a steady pace toward their hiding spot, thankful they weren’t near Phantom’s Observatory. That would bring up questions Fright knew he couldn’t answer.

As he got closer, he got a look at who Dorathea had sent to talk to him. Ember McClain and Ghostwriter. Not so much allies of Phantom as frenemies, and he hoped that was enough to speak. Ghostwriter in particular was a good choice – Fright credited his selection to Pandora – for his ability to record information and warp reality. At least a little bit. The two of them seemed on somewhat friendly terms as well, arguing over lyrics while Ember strummed chords on her guitar until Fright got close.

Ghostwriter looked up, grabbing a second notebook to scribble something. Beneath them, the Keep changed. From the ectoplasm grew a white, six-sided structure. It was roofed, with all sides but one covered with canning.

“It won’t keep for long, maybe two hours,” Writer said. “But I don’t think Plasmius will notice a gazebo in his corporate landscaping. They’re common enough he might think The Keep made it.”

He stepped inside, Ember following. Fright Knight did too, but only after he shrunk his form. It was mortal-sized, and his standard eight-foot frame would not have fit.

Ember crossed her arms. “First things first, can you talk to us?”

Fright poked at the commands Plasmius had given him. “Yes, depending on the topic.”

“Who can’t you talk to?” Writer asked, cross-legged in the air, already taking notes.

“Allies of Phantom.”

“And-”

“What happened to Skulker?” Ember cut Ghostwriter off.

“Who?”

“Skulker. My boyfriend. Blob ghost in a metal suit, blue fire hair. He left to bug Phantom roughly a week ago. No one has seen him since. Was he around with Phantom and Plasmius fought? Was he hurt?”

“The only third party at the exchange of the Crown between Phantom and Plasmius was me.”

Her hair flared in annoyance. She leaned against the wall of the gazebo, sulking and disregarding Writer’s glare. After a moment, Writer decided to ignore her and begin asking Fright a list of questions.

When had Phantom been crowned? Why hadn’t the Realms been notified? How did Plasmius become King? What happened to Phantom’s Portal?

Ember calmed down after the conversation around that, concluding that her boyfriend was probably fine. Just stuck in the mortal realm.

They were smart questions, but Fright wondered if they noticed he held something back. That his bond to the King had given him a block beyond who he could talk to.

“What does Plasmius want to do now that he’s King?”

“I’m not sure. He has not asked about the resources of the Realms, nor has left to the mortal realm to make changes there. He seems more focused on having the Crown than what to do with it. I even convinced him to not care about the opinions of the residents of the Realm. However, there is someone whose opinion he’s interested in. He keeps mentioning a ‘she’.”

Ghostwriter looked up at that. “He wanted to be King to impress a woman?”

Fright shrugged. “Perhaps. I do not understand such attachments.”

Ember snorted, but she also looked thoughtful. “Plasmius is a halfa.”

“Yeah...” Writer drawled.

“They’re different from us. Skulker would go on and on about it, things that made them unique.”

“They have an incredibly rare physiology-”

“And obsessions.”

Fright and Writer turned to look at her, but Ember’s gaze was out the single open wall, staring out at the green radiation of the Realms. “Our obsessions are personal – hobbies, interests. We are self-contained because we form here in the Realms in isolation. We’ll most of us. Skulker always used to say what attracted him to me was how my obsession was a little wonky – it's so dependent on others.

“Halfa obsessions are related to the mortal world, to people. If Plasmuis’s is a woman – a lover who left him, or one he admired from afar -”

Ghostwriter perked up. “He'd do crazy things to get her attention, like recreating a romance trope he believes she will fall for. Royalty are common love interests in mortal stories. And if he’s trying to create a story, I can disrupt it. Who is the woman? Does she like these stories?”

Ember grimaced. “Phantom’s mother.”

Writer whistled. “So a man, eager to win the heart of a woman, kills her son. That’s not a romance story. His plan will backfire. Do you think the Fenton’s can defeat him?”

“No,” Fright Knight said. “A Ghost King cannot be defeated by mortals, though they may provide some aid.” Phantom had used tools of his parents' making when he defeated Pariah Dark.

“Scorned lovers with power become devastating villains,” Writer whispered. “His goal may not be war, but he’ll turn on us in his grief. The Realms will not take kindly to that. Fright Knight, can you tell us anything that can help defeat him?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I can show you.”

He led the way to the corpse of trees nearby, weaving between trunks. Ghostwriter and Ember walked behind him in silence. Eventually, they reached the edge of Phantom’s Observatory.

It was obvious the sight confused them, but Writer seemed to have a better understanding of what it was. “No suburban corporate complex has something like this. What is it?”

“A remanent of the previous king’s Keep.”

Writer stepped forward, careful of the littered glass. “This was Phantom’s?”

“This belonged to the previous king, yes.” Not Phantom, Phantom’s clone. They didn’t know that, they couldn’t. Fright wasn’t allowed to mention the clone. Everyone was to believe who Plasmius killed was the real Phantom.

But Fright Knight knew. The Keep knew.

Ember and Ghostwriter were too new to have known the Realms while Pariah Dark ruled, or to have experienced any shifts of leadership other than the chaos of this past week. But Ghostwriter had a library at his fingertips and an obsession with words. He could have found a book, read the history, to know that this lingering part of the previous king’s Keep should have been erased.

“Why would the Keep preserve something of an ousted King? There’s nothing from Pariah’s time.”

Fright stared at Writer and said nothing. Writer frowned, turning away. The younger ghost didn’t understand why, but he understood it was important. Quickly, he started sketching the scene.

Ember adjusted the strap of her guitar. “Was Phantom that good of a king, in the days he wore the Crown, that The Keep wanted to remember him?”

“The previous king did not have the time to prove himself, and I like to think this isn’t a memorial.”

“Then it’s what?” Writer asked.

“Proof Plasmius doesn’t have full control of The Keep.” Fright turned to look back at Plasmius’s Keep, the reflection from the lines of windows barely visible through the trees. “You should go. Plasmius rarely notes my patrols, but this is not a day to take that risk.”

Writer snapped his book closed. “Thank you, Fright Knight.”

“Fly well.”