Omicron was careful to remember everything Epsilon had cautioned him about firework safety. Light the fuse, move quickly and carefully to a safe distance, cover your ears, and watch!
"What the hell! Stop throwing books around, I'm trying to get some sleep."
It led him up the hill towards the family crypt. Omicron fell down more than descended the stairs, his grip on the railing and center pole the only things that kept him mostly upright. He quickly activated the lock and pushed the first door open. But the second door seemed to be locked, no amount of pushing helping even as the cat slipped through the grating and continued into the catacombs.
"I was only sent here to kill one tonight," she said, the otherworldly voice echoing in the stone chamber. "But why stop at one when there's such a convenient opportunity right in front of me? You could have inherited his...tendencies, after all. Why take that chance, hmm?"
"W-w-why?" He was shaking so badly that he could hardly get the word out, huddled as far away as he could get.
"Why?" She laughed harshly, transparent lips curving into another cruel smile. "Because he aided and associated with those who would be cleansed from this world. That simply can't be tolerated. Now, are you going to hide in the corner like a coward, or come face your death like a man? Because I must say, it simply won't be any fu-"
"What's so funny?" Omicron's attacker demanded, her look of confusion turning into a frown.
"The irony of the whole thing! You, of all people, going along on this crusade."
She started to speak again, but she cut him off.
"Ohh, people talk. Not to me, but to the wife, you see." He guestured behind himself to the ghost standing with crossed arms. "And we know aaaallllll about you, Myra Carter! Every detail of your life, all the time you spent, ah, how did you put it? Assisting and associating, that was it, with the ones you now claim to hate."
The angry woman stammered, clearly flustered by this man, but he wasn't done talking yet.
"I know I'm more stubborn than you, so I could wait all night until you had to cross back over, but frankly I don't want to spend my night doing that. Boring! So I'll just go with this. What would Frederick have said, hrm?"
The question had an immediate effect on the ghostly woman, recoiling back in horror. Then, she let out a screech of frustration before shooting straight up through the stone ceiling.
The man dusted off his incorporeal hands. "Well, she won't be back!"
"It's a pull door, son. You've gotta pull it."
He dragged himself to his feet, feeling as if he was in a dream, and pulled on the handle. Oh. He stepped through into the next chamber and looked around for any sign of the three ghosts, but the only one remaining was the one who the man had identified as his wife.
"Hello, Omicron." She broke the silence, her voice gentler than Myra's, but still eerie.
"H-hello." He was shaking, the adrenaline that had kept him going leaving his system. "Please tell me I'm dreaming."
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, you're not. This - all of this - is really happening."
"The dead are crossing back to this realm. We've always been able to observe, but now the barriers have been broken and our effect is more tangible. It's a horrible thing, and should never have happened. All the hate..." Her voice trailed off as she shook her head sadly.
"I'm sorry, sweetie, but he's gone. He'll be with us soon. I'll do my best to keep him from following the path of hatred, even with his death being so sudden and violent."
He was choking up now. "I just left him in the house. I should have stayed, tried to help."
"No." Her voice was firm. "There was nothing you could have done, except for what you did. Only the dead can defend against the dead. Stay here, until dawn. Then you'll be safe, at least for the day."
He nodded. "One more question. Are you...my ancestors?"
A slight smile touched her lips as she nodded. "Yes. We will protect you as much as we can, but we aren't strong spirits, fueled by rage as the others are. We can't stray far from our graves. If you need aid, you must come to us. And now, I must go, but we will be watching. Until next time, my dear."
~ * ~
I don't know why I subconsciously hate Leisure Day. It's just always unfortunately timed.
The third ghost who guarded the crypt is Crystal, who died a few days ago in-game. James didn't care, so it never made its way into the story, but now you know.
For those keeping track, the Seer's prophecies from way back near the start of this generation have all been fulfilled now, possibly not in the ways expected. I've been planning this for a long time.
Next chapter is the official beginning of generation 3.