Chapter 17
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Chapter 17: Title
“Has it truly been so long?” Waylin widened her eyes in astonishment before sighing wistfully at Merlinka.
“I understand your shock at my presence. Be at ease—all shall be explained.”
“My manifestation stems from the magic tide’s resurgence… and your donning of this necklace. Young witch, fortune favors you far more than it ever did me.”
Though each word made sense individually, Merlinka found the ghost’s statements utterly perplexing when combined.
“What magic tide? Why did wearing this necklace summon you?” she pressed.
“I long to elaborate, but time is against us,” Waylin replied, her brow creasing with unease. “If I sense the magic tide’s return, so too does what lies sealed beneath these stones. We must make haste.”
Merlinka clutched her temples, questioning her grip on reality. Was this specter genuine or a symptom of schizophrenia?
While the young woman grappled with doubt, viewers worldwide gaped at their screens.
“Sweet merciful heavens!” Hawk’s eye twitched as viewership graphs skyrocketed. “Someone tell me they rented premium hologram gear for this!”
Between the eerie shadow and this self-proclaimed Waylin Beers Mandala apparition, the director’s composure frayed.
“Large-scale projectors need staging space,” Lanny muttered. “The castle’s architecture permits no such installations…”
“Then explain this!” Hawk clutched his chest, besieged by the night’s relentless strangeness. “Is that… an actual ghost?”
“It appears genuine,” Lanny ventured. “Her English carried archaic inflections, but her identity matches historical records—the Duke’s firstborn confirmed it herself.”
Zhongxia Video Network
【3 mins—I need that ghost actress’s deets!】
【Zero hits online! Hidden talent from the production crew?】
【Professional VFX artist here: NO tech could pull this off live.】
【Remember the “haunting” trend scrubbed from the web? Coincidence?】
【404 alert! Those were confirmed pranks!】
【Idc if you believe—the world’s finally interesting! Off to fight evil in lucky red boxers 😜】
Though the silly internet users displayed more skepticism than their foreign counterparts—a blend of cultural pragmatism and recent “ghost hoax” fatigue—certain eagle-eyed observers noted disturbing patterns.
Zhongxia · Capital City · Special Bureau
“Section Chief Cui’s findings suggest the Kingdom of England faces paranormal phenomena mirroring ours,” declared the square-jawed officer in black uniform. His fist struck the meeting room table. “With foreign networks in uproar and our domestic peace at stake, I move to block this broadcast across all Zhongxia websites immediately.”
On the screen behind him, key moments from the live broadcast were being highlighted.
"The materials in your hands are updating in real-time. Review them carefully – this footage contains significant revelations."
Unlike the baseless conjectures of internet users lacking technical means, the Special Bureau’s information department had already analyzed the earlier recordings, concluding minimal probability of computer synthesis. Such real-time video manipulation during live broadcasting exceeded the capabilities of a minor television station.
"Terminating the broadcast now risks fueling unnecessary speculation, potentially making people suspect hidden truths," interjected a young man in his mid-twenties.
"So you’re suggesting we maintain the transmission, Lin Jing?"
"Precisely. By offering no official denial, we allow the public to perceive this as mere entertainment programming."
"Should complications arise, our cyber division can formulate plausible explanations." Lin Jing adjusted his glasses with deliberate motion. "Moreover, this program has numerous documented instances of fabrication in its history."
*
"A repugnant aura. It grows impatient," Waylin murmured, her gaze penetrating the stone floor as if viewing something beneath. "Follow."
"Why do you linger?" The spectral figure floated several paces ahead before turning, observing Merlinka’s rooted stance with the disapproving frown of an elder confronting a wayward child.
Clutching her skirt while chasing this phantom through the corridors, Merlinka questioned her sanity. What madness compelled her to obey the whims of this… this apparition?
Yet if spectral beings proved real, perhaps temporary madness warranted indulgence.
Though celebrated as a witch in supernatural circles, Merlinka had never truly encountered spirits nor situations requiring her purported expertise. Her matrilineal lineage of witches hid beneath their mystical reputation nothing more than primitive superstition – deity worship masquerading as occult practice, derided by rational minds.
Her eyes remained locked on Waylin’s translucent form, heart fluttering with ant-like prickles of anticipation beneath swelling waves of exhilaration. This visceral thrill she hadn’t experienced since fifteen summers past – that pivotal year when she abandoned childish fancies of deities and magic, accepting divination as mere psychology and legends as empty fables.
The ghost’s existence resurrected buried hopes – proof her lifelong search for wonder hadn’t been futile.
As Merlinka’s thoughts wandered, Waylin’s crystalline voice recalled her attention: "In primordial times, an omnipresent force permeated this world – what we termed magic."
"Yet magic proves mutable. From a specific historical juncture, it waned steadily until my era six centuries past, when it nearly vanished."
"But as tides ebb and flow, magic’s retreat precedes its resurgence. We named this cyclical phenomenon the magic tide."
"Through limited precognition, I foresaw magic’s eventual return during your modern era." Waylin’s features softened with wistfulness. "The necklace I chanced upon – once belonging to a powerful witch – preserved my soul when the abyss demon feasted. Its constant wear likely shielded me."
"Abyss demon?" Merlinka breathed.
"Indeed." Waylin maintained eye contact. "Your castle entry suggests knowledge of its history. My brother William Beers Mandala, second son seeking dukedom, invoked infernal forces. But instead of hellspawn, he summoned treacherous abyss demons who devoured every soul by dawn."
"I recall only the Duke of Beers’ youngest surviving, having traveled abroad," Merlinka responded, uncertain whether to treat this as history or fantasy.
"Charles departed with companions days prior," Waylin confirmed, pausing before a partially opened portal. "We’ve arrived."
Studying the ajar study entrance, the spirit frowned. "Father’s sanctum… Who breached this?"
"Perhaps my colleagues," Merlinka offered.
"You came accompanied? Perilous! Though priests later purified the abyss demon, residual Abyssal aura remained trapped beneath this study. My perception extends only to bedroom intruders – others risk awakening the sealed menace."
Waylin’s form shimmered with concern. "Magic’s absence should erode the aura across epochs, but six centuries proved insufficient. As magic tide returns, so stirs the Abyssal residue. Your companions may already be compromised."
As these words hung in the air, Merlinka thrust open the door. Within, a figure near the bookshelves started at the noise, spectacles glinting as he peered over his half-open tome.
"Merlinka Endor? The witch lady?" His voice carried equal measures of surprise and scholarly curiosity.
