Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kids do stupid things. 

Well, adults do stupid things too—and they don’t usually have ignorance as an excuse—but that’s beside the point. 

Luigi didn’t exactly have a... normal childhood. Honestly, he doesn’t know if anyone in the Mushroom Kingdom has, or what constitutes a normal childhood, for that matter. Still, he doubts time-traveling or fighting monsters is covered in any parenting handbook.  

With all this in mind, Luigi can pretty comfortably say he doesn’t have the vaguest idea what your average youth does for fun. He likes to think it’s reading a good book, but something tells him he’s pretty far off the mark. 

Tonight, he finds that he is... partially correct. 

It’s around midnight when the plumber hears his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He frowns, setting aside his own book to answer; no one calls this late unless it is an emergency (or a prank). 

“Luigi’s Spectral Services, how—" 

“MY FRIENDS ARE BEING EATEN BY GHOSTS!" 

Luigi fumbles his phone at the horribly loud shrieking on the other end of the line, nearly ending the call in the midst of his hasty recovery. 

“I’m sorry, your friends are what now?" 

“They’re being eaten!" the teen wails, voice cracking. “They’re trapped in the house and I’m out here all alone and I don’t know what to do and I think I might have wet myself and I don't know why I told you that part and—" 

“Okay! Slow down!" Luigi interjects. “Take a deep breath, kid. Then tell me what happened." 

There’s a pause as the teenager complies. A heavy exhale hisses through the receiver.  

“A-alright. So, m-my friends and I found this old spell book at an antique shop—" 

Oh boy, here we go. 

“—and, well, Dane’s parents are gone for the weekend so we thought we’d try it out at his house and—" 

“You summoned ghosts," Luigi finishes, sounding tired, “and they’re angry." 

“Dude, you have no idea." 

Oh, but he does. Luigi may have never summoned ghosts personally (why in Stars' name would you want to?) but he’s done his fair share of research regarding magic that pierces the veil. One of the many things he’s learned about summoning spectral entities is the importance of taking appropriate precautions. Only the powerful or foolish dare call upon ghosts without the protection of salt, a magic circle, or a ward. The latter often believe the contract of subservience formed upon summoning will spare them an indignant ghost’s ire, but Luigi doubts the teenagers even know about paranormal contracts, never mind that they can be circumvented.

Luigi gets the kid’s address and ends the call, already making a mental list of what he will need. He looks to Pepper—the ghostly canine having been watching him during the entirety of the conversation. 

“What do you say, boy? Want to tag along?" 

The wagging tail is the only answer he needs. 

“A Victorian home,” Luigi sighs, looking between Pepper and the massive house looming before them, “of course it is."   

It isn’t so much the ‘look' of the structure that bothers Luigi, but the age. The older a property, the more power a ghost can draw from it. In other words, if the plumber can't find a peaceful resolution, he’s in for quite a fight. 

Luigi prepares himself for the latter. 

“There you are!" 

A Koopa in a black hoodie leaps out of some nearby bushes and rushes to Luigi’s side. He’s shaking like mad, but otherwise appears to be unharmed. 

“Thank Grambi  you’re here!" He gulps, glancing nervously back at the house. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come." 

“It’s been five minutes." 

“That’s a long time when you’re scared!" 

Eh, can’t argue with him there. “Right, well, I’m here now. Just take another deep breath and... uh, I don’t believe I got your name." 

“K-Koojo," he stutters. 

“Okay, Koojo, take a deep breath, and then tell me how many of your friends are still in the house." 

Koojo obeys. Sure enough, their shaking has lessened somewhat. “Five," he says. “Koorina, Nolem, Koopil, Sweet T., and Dane." 

Luigi nods, mentally jotting down the names. “What do these ghosts look like? How many are there?" 

“Shadowy? I guess? And... I think there were six." 

Ah. One for each of them. How quaint. “Anything else you can tell me?" 

“Man, I don’t know—! After those... things  appeared, we ran downstairs as fast as we could. I got out the front door first, but before anyone else could follow, it slammed shut and locked behind me!" Koojo shudders, hugging himself. “I guess I got lucky." 

Luck had nothing to do with it. These ghosts intentionally let this kid escape. Just another, albeit indirect, way of tormenting him. 

Luigi glances up at the second story windows; he thought he saw movement, but there’s nothing there.  

“Why are we standing around here talking, anyway?" the teen snaps. “While you’re playing twenty questions, my friends are becoming ghost chow!" 

“Ghosts don’t eat people." Usually. “And me going in there blind won’t do your friends any favors." 

Koojo gives Luigi a sheepish look, muttering an apology under their breath. 

“It’s okay. I know you’re just worried," the plumber says patiently, placing a hand on the teen’s shoulder. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to get your friends out of there safely." 

Luigi steps around Koojo and moves toward the front porch. He looks over his shoulder. “You coming Pepper?" 

The Polterpup yaps happily, barreling past the startled teenager, whom apparently hadn’t taken notice of the ghostly canine. 

“Whoa! You have a ghost dog that hunts evil spirits with you?!" 

“Uh... yes?" 

“...bro. That’s the most metal¹ thing I’ve ever heard." 

Luigi looks down at the happy, slobbering face of his four-legged companion.  

Metal... sure. 

“I think I’m getting old, buddy," he whispers to Pepper as they approach the front door. The canine pants neutrally in reply. 

An arm’s length away from the entrance, Luigi feels a dark, forbidding energy. It pulsates in warning when he lays a hand on the mullion—he doesn’t dare try the handle.  

“So... are you gonna bust the door down?" Koojo calls curiously. 

“Not if I want to keep my shoulder intact," Luigi says absently. “Brute force won’t work on magic this strong." 

The plumber reaches into one of his pockets and produces an innocuous looking key. As he directs it to the keyhole, the key begins to glow and change shape. The lock turns with a click and the supernatural seal on the door dissipates like a fine mist. Luigi tests the handle, and it gives with no resistance. 

Enchanted skeleton keys; you gotta love ‘em. 

“Dude," the teen whispers. “Where can I get one of those?" 

“A wizard. But in exchange you have to give up your first-born child." 

“...I don’t know if you’re messing with me or not, but that still sounds like a good deal." 

Luigi casts the youth a perturbed look as he opens the door. “Just... stay put, okay?” He pauses in the threshold. “Also, please don’t make questionable deals with wizards." 

“Aye-aye, captain." 

When the door closes behind Luigi, the shift in the air is palpable. It suddenly feels heavy, pressing—like someone turned the gravity up a notch—and the energy crackling around him is almost suffocating in its intensity. If the plumber had any doubts before, they’re certainly gone now. Whatever these entities are, they’re definitely malevolent. Mischievous pranks are the best-case scenario.  

Luigi takes a deep breath, trying to hasten his adaptation to the oppressive atmosphere. He needs to get moving before the ghosts become aware of his presence; if his trick with the door hasn’t already alerted them, anyway.  

“Alright, Pepper," he whispers. “Where to first?" 

The Polterpup quietly takes the lead, snout to the ground. Luigi can’t help but notice how unusually tense the canine is.  

Well, that certainly is concerning. 

Pepper pads down a narrow hallway, Luigi cautiously trailing behind him. Every creak and moan of the old house sets the duo further on edge.  

The Polterpup perks after a moment, and that’s when Luigi hears distant laughter. Not just laughter... other voices too. As they draw closer to the source of the noise, Luigi notices that the other voices and sounds seem to change frequently; abruptly, even. Is that a TV he’s hearing? 

Luigi soon gets his answer when they arrive at a slightly ajar door. Slowly, quietly, he peers through the crack.  

It’s a media room, if the plumber had to guess. There’s a plush couch settled along the adjacent wall, and seated comfortable in the center is the shadowy figure of a Toad. A remote-control levitates beside them, buttons occasionally illuminating as the entity uses it to cycle through the channels. They giggle mirthfully, at what, Luigi can’t see from this angle. He can’t imagine it’s a particular program as they never seem to stay on any one station for more than a few seconds.  

It all looks very innocent, and any other time Luigi wouldn’t be concerned. But this... this wasn’t just some adorable little Toad ghost (and oh, how he wishes they were). When a ghost stays in the mortal realm, they need to periodically feed on positive and negative energy to remain on our plane of existence. But, like living beings, their diets must be balanced. Too much positive energy will override a ghost’s sense of unfinished business and cast them back beyond the veil (not a bad fate, honestly). Too much negative energy... is transformative. The ghost slowly forgets who/what they once were and becomes a vile imitation of themselves. Vitiates, they’re called. 

If all the ghosts these kids summoned are Vitiates, Luigi’s going to have a long night. 

Luigi looks down at his four-legged companion and gestures for them to stay put. He steps forward and silently pushes open the door. The ghost doesn’t immediately notice him. Then, probably against better judgement, Luigi decides to announce his presence with a belated knock on the door frame. 

The Toad’s head snaps over to the plumber, and Luigi tries not to flinch at their sudden, piercing gaze. 

“Hello. Sorry to interrupt your, ah, channel surfing." 

He risks a glance at the television, somewhat curious of what had the Vitiate so enraptured. His stomach drops at what he sees. It’s a black and white horror film, one he recalls watching with Mario a few movie nights back—a period piece about a werewolf terrorizing some old village. The movie itself isn’t what unnerves Luigi, but the fact that something is definitely off about it. At the moment, the werewolf is chasing a Koopa girl through a dark, overgrown forest. 

He doesn’t remember this scene. 

He doesn’t remember there being a teenager dressed in modern clothes.  

“This... wouldn’t happen to be a director’s cut edition, would it?" Luigi asks rhetorically.  

The Toad smiles, but otherwise doesn’t reply. 

A distant scream from the TV reminds Luigi what is at stake. He decides to cut to the chase. 

“Specter, I mean you no harm," he begins, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I’ve only come to ask that you let these kids go free. Their summoning of you was not an intended slight. They’re young, and naïve—ignorant to the world of spirits. You have made your point, please be merciful to them. Do so, and I will safely guide you back to your haunt." 

Luigi is met with silence.  

The Vitiate stares at him with those vacant, glowing eyes. Their grin widens. 

And widens. 

Luigi watches in mute horror as the once-cute little smile becomes a gaping maw filled with serrated teeth. The entity’s eyes seem to sink into their head as they gradually rise from the couch. Its body stretches as it moves—a lengthy, serpentine tail sprouting from the torso in place of feet. The ghost slowly reaches out toward the plumber, arms extending until they become nightmarishly long things tipped with razor sharp claws. 

Luigi leaps to the side with a yelp when the Vitiate suddenly launches the remote-control at his head. He tucks and rolls, coming up into a crouch with the Poltergust's wand in hand. He stares back at the twisted specter with wide eyes. 

So much for diplomacy. 

The Vitiate slashes at the plumber with a blood curdling shriek. A talon catches on Luigi’s overalls as he dodges, causing him to stumble back into the television. He gasps as the screen ripples and nearly swallows him up like a pond of tar. Luigi pushes off the frame and hastily puts distance between himself and the entertainment center. Another fearful cry draws his eye back to the movie/prison. 

"Pepper! Help the kid!” 

The Polterpup darts into the room without missing a beat and launches himself through the TV, disappearing with a ghostly pop. Luigi turns his attention back to the Vitiate just in time to avoid another swipe. The dark entity hisses angrily at the plumber before attempting to pounce on him—spindly arms outstretched and claws splayed with intent. Luigi barely manages to step out of the way, but when the ghost goes sailing past him, he makes his move. 

The Vitiate howls with rage as they’re suddenly caught up in the Poltergust's powerful vortex. They dig their claws into the plush carpet and frantically pull themselves along the ground in an attempt to escape. Luigi is dragged several meters before he can finally find his footing. He activates the Poltergust’s Power Surge, shocking the ghost and weakening its hold on the ground. Before the Vitiate can recover, Luigi pulls on the wand with all his might and slams the entity into a nearby wall. He repeats the action several times—bashing the ghost into walls, the floor, and finally the coffee table. The latter crumples under the force of the strike, throwing Luigi off balance and providing the Vitiate an opportunity to break free. It whirls around and back hands the plumber into an adjacent wall. 

The blow briefly knocks the wind from Luigi’s lungs. He gasps, clawing for the Poltergust wand that was thrown from his grasp. A warped, spine tingling giggle draws his gaze back to the looming Vitiate. It grabs the plumber by the front of his overalls and hoists them up so they are now face-to-horrifying-face. The ghost laughs harder when Luigi closes his eyes, interpreting it to be out of fear. 

They don’t notice the charged-up Strobulb until it’s too late. 

The Vitiate shrieks at the sudden, blinding light. It drops Luigi and fruitlessly scrubs at its eyes with the heels of their palms. Luigi wastes no time in restarting the Poltergust. The dark entity snarls at the return of the familiar tug, swiping blindly around it as the plumber slowly draws it in. A few seconds later, the ghost is drained of enough energy that it can no longer resist the Poltergust’s pull. It bellows a final, furious cry before vanishing into the nozzle with a satisfying pop. 

Luigi heaves a weary sigh. 

One down… 

He's barely returned the Poltergust’s wand to its hook when a surprised yelp and dull thud draws his attention to the TV. Pepper is there, sitting obliviously on the back of the sprawled Koopa teenager. He has the girl’s scarf in his mouth, as if he’d scruffed her like a kitten and dragged her to freedom (that’s probably exactly what happened). The Polterpup looks at Luigi and greets the man with a happy bark and wagging tail. Luigi’s shoulders slump with relief. 

Thank the Stars, they made it. 

Luigi rushes over, Pepper leaping off the Koopa as she shakily pushes herself up into a sit. The plumber kneels at her side and gives her a quick once-over. She’s shaking, and her clothes are torn in a few places, but otherwise seems okay. 

“Are you alright?” he asks anyway. 

“Physically? Not too bad.” She laughs nervously, rubbing at her head. “Mentally? I’m going to need some serious therapy.” 

“Heh, well, I have a few therapists I can recommend.” 

“Thanks, man, I appreciate—” The teen pauses, finally looking up and identifying her other savior. She blinks. “You’re Luigi.” 

“The one and only,” he chuckles. “Would your name happen to be Koorina?”²

The Koopa blinks again, looking increasingly surprised. “Yeah. But how did you…?” 

“Your friend, Koojo, called me here. Told me everything.” 

“Oh. Smart.” She frowns to herself. “Probably the smartest thing any of us has done today.” 

Luigi shrugs. “We all make mistakes. Just be sure to learn from them.” 

“Yeah, don’t read from mysterious spell books and provoke a bunch of ghosts.” The Koopa mimes writing with a pen in the air. “Duly noted.” 

“You might want to pin that somewhere it won’t get lost.” 

The teen snorts. “I’ll make a note of that, too.”  

Luigi smiles, getting to his feet and offering the Koopa a hand. “Let’s get you out of here. I still need to help the rest of your friends.” 

Koorina accepts his help and rises on shaky legs. “Am I the first one you found?” 

Luigi nods. “Do you have any idea where the rest of them might be?” 

“I, uh…I’m not sure. That creepy Toad ghost got me pretty quick.” She frowns, looking thoughtful. “I think I saw Koopil and Sweet T. run towards the dining room. It all happened so fast though…” 

“It’s a start. Thank you, Koorina, I know it can’t be easy to think about.” 

Luigi looks to the Polterpup, leaning over and giving the spirit an appreciative pat on the head. “You did great Pepper. Do you think you can lead your new friend back outside?” 

Pepper yaps happily in the affirmative. Koorina does a double take. 

“Wait, you’re not coming?” 

“I have to keep moving for your friend’s sake. But there’s no need to worry, Pepper will keep you safe.” 

“Stars yeah he will . He chased off a werewolf. Pepper's the ultimate good boy.” 

“That he is.” 

And with that, they depart. Luigi watches as Pepper trots ahead, herding his charge out the door. Once the two vacate the room, he pulls out his phone and brings up E. Gadd’s number. 

He needs back-up. 

Luigi has cleared numerous mansions of ghosts all on his own, so it’s not that he feels incapable of doing this alone. Those situations, however, didn’t involve kids. Sure, his brother, Peach, and several Toads were held prisoner, but they were sealed away in paintings, not actively tormented. Luigi isn’t willing to risk the lives of minors.  

The plumber paces anxiously as the phone rings. A couple of seconds later, there is a click on the other end of the line. 

“Hey professor, sorry for calling so late.” 

He glances around the room, grimacing at the damage.  

“I’m on a case that requires a little… teamwork.”

Chapter Text

Luigi creeps down the empty hallway, Poltergust at the ready. He is tense, hands subconsciously squeezing the capturing device's wand at the tiniest sound. The plumber’s anxiety is only partially quelled by the knowledge that help is on the way. Still, he can’t afford to wait until they arrive. Every second that these children are left with the Vitiates is a second too long. 

As Luigi progresses, his mind keeps wandering back to the Toad ghost he fought only minutes prior. The extent of its deterioration was one of the furthest he's ever seen in a Vitiate. In person, at least. The strength of its magic was highly concerning as well. Turning a television into a prison? Manipulating the movie into its own reality? That required a significant amount of power. Luigi shudders to think how much negative energy the Vitiate must have consumed to become so formidable.

Luigi halts mid-step at a loud crash echoing down the adjacent hallway. He sidesteps until he is flush with the wall and peers warily around the corner. About halfway down the hall lies a broken plate; several, to be precise. Numerous dents in the drywall reveal the dishware had been thrown, not dropped. As if to confirm this, another plate smashes into the marred surface, creating yet another abrasion before its remains rain down into the growing pile of ceramic shards. Luigi cranes his neck to see the impromptu projectiles are coming from beyond an archway.

Looks like Koorina had been right about the dining room.

The plumber slowly rounds the corner and slinks down the hall, taking care to avoid stepping on the broken plates. He hugs the wall by the archway as he draws closer. Cautiously, he peeks his head out to get a better look of the room.

It is indeed the dining area, as expected, but the room is so thoroughly trashed it’s barely recognizable. Dishware and cutlery litter the floors (some are even embedded in the walls), and the main dining table is caved inward, completely broken in half. What’s left of the china cabinets lay crumpled in varying states of disrepair. There doesn’t appear to be any surface in the whole room that is free from splintered wood or broken plates and glass. But worse than the condition of the room are the two ghostly occupants.

On the far side of the dining area is a Snifit floating amidst an arsenal of knives and forks. Every now and again they lazily flick an arm toward the wall they are facing, sending one of the utensils at a target that has Luigi’s blood running cold. The Vitiate has cleanly torn a perfect circle out of the wall, and pinned to that cut of drywall is a trembling Paratroopa. The teen is surrounded by embedded cutlery, but as far as the plumber can tell, none have hit their mark. Not from a lack of skill, Luigi grimly notes. A nearly complete outline of silverware encompasses the Paratroopa. With each throw, the border grows, and all while the target is gently rotating.

Toward the center of the room drifts a Lakitu reclining leisurely on its cloud. One hand props up its head while the other loosely clutches a fishing pole construct. Plates orbit around the Vitiate like ceramic moons, a few occasionally launching free from the rotation to target the final occupant of the room. A Toad with a single braid down their back darts frantically around the trashed dining area. Much like the Snifit, Luigi suspects the Lakitu is intentionally missing the teenager. With every near-hit, the poor Toad cries out in alarm and runs in the opposite direction of the strike. When they get too close to one of the other two exits, the Vitiate languidly casts the line of their fishing rod and snags the Toad’s foot. The terrified teen shrieks as they are reeled away from potential freedom and dangled off the ground like a particularly lively piñata.

Luigi has seen enough. “Stop!"

Surprisingly enough, they do. The plates and silverware suddenly still as if frozen in time. All eyes turn to the plumber standing at the ready in the archway.

“Please, let the kids go," Luigi says, taking a cautious step forward with slightly raised hands. “I don’t want to fight you, but if I have to, I will and—"

The plates abruptly drop from the air. Luigi flinches, anticipating a cacophony of ceramic destruction, but just before the dishware hits the ground, they melt into a dark, gooey substance. The sludge lands on the floor with a wet splat and seeps through the cracks in the wooden boards until it is completely out of sight.

“...uh ...okay." Luigi blinks, looking perplexed. “Now, as I was saying—"

“S h h h..." the Lakitu ghost whispers, finger raised to their lips. “Y o u ’ l l   s c a r e   t h e   f i s h."

Luigi does a double take. He isn’t sure what bemuses him more, that the ghost bothered to speak or what the entity said.

“...fish?"

Odd movement suddenly draws the plumber’s eyes to the floor. Something flits in his peripheral, but when he turns his head, there’s nothing there. Was it Luigi’s imagination, or did the ground just... ripple?

Luigi unconsciously takes another step, but instead of solid ground, his foot sinks through the wood like it’s a liquid. He yelps in surprise, arms pinwheeling in an effort to reverse his momentum. The plumber manages to pull back just in time before something leaps from the floor and snaps at where his foot had just been. Luigi is shocked to see it is a construct of a Porcupuffer—one with uncharacteristically sharp teeth. 

So that’s what the nonsense with the plates had been about.

The Lakitu howls with eerie laughter, waving their mortal prisoner tauntingly so they swing like a pendulum. The Porcupuffer construct turns away from Luigi, drawn by the tantalizing movement, and Luigi gapes in horror as several more materialize behind it and swim toward the shrieking Toad. The plumber’s eyes frantically dart around the room, looking for something he can use—a platform, anything! His gaze lands on one of the broken halves of the table that had “drifted” closer following the floor's transformation. It would have to do.

Luigi takes a couple steps back before leaping through the archway's threshold. He easily clears the wood-turned-water and lands on the table. It wobbles dangerously beneath his feet, but he manages to keep his balance. Once Luigi is certain of his stance, he draws his eyes up from his feet only to find the Snifit staring at him. He freezes.

Oh, right, he'd forgotten there were two.

The Vitiate continues to stare at the vulnerable plumber. Luigi slowly reaches back for the Poltergust’s wand, but to his surprise, the entity makes no move to attack. The Vitiate sighs—actually sighs—and even though it’s wearing a mask, Luigi swears it rolls its eyes at him. With a wave of an arm, the Snifit floats away, cutlery and pinned Paratroopa drifting after it. The plumber watches in bewilderment as the ghost exits into the adjacent room.

…okay then.

Threat temporarily averted, Luigi turns his attention back to his current foe. The Porcupuffers are beneath the dangling Toad now, leaping in mad arcs in a fervent attempt to get a taste of their master's bait. To the wailing Toad's credit, they do a remarkable job of swatting the toothy constructs away. One is smacked an impressive distance off, the flailing construct sailing toward the marooned plumber. Luigi wastes no time in vacuuming the sludgy Porcupuffer up. He then puts the flow in reverse, pointing the nozzle in the opposite direction of the Vitiate and pushing his platform into closer range. 

The Lakitu ghost languidly turns its head at Luigi’s approach. They lock eyes, and a chill shoots down the plumber’s spine when the entity suddenly grins. His unease turns to terror as the ghost reels back the fishing rod in an unmistakable gesture, and before Luigi can act, the Lakitu casts its hostage across the room. The Toad lands in the liquidized flooring with a splash, and Luigi can’t help but feel a little nauseated by the sight of the mushroom folk half-submerged in what was supposed to be wooden planks. The Porcupuffers, however, find the sight very appealing. Luigi desperately tries to capture the constructs as they swim after their defenseless prey, but a handful manage to evade the Poltergust’s pull. The plumber reverses the flow once more and rushes to intervene. A Porcupuffer leaps at the Toad with snapping jaws—

—and is caught by another vortex.

Luigi watches as the construct goes flying over the teen's head and disappears down the nozzle of another Poltergust.

A green Poltergust.

Standing in the archway, is none other than Luigi’s gooey doppelgänger. 

“Gooigi!”

The plumber's partner nods in silent acknowledgement as they continue to capture the remaining constructs. To Luigi’s growing relief, he finds that the ghost hunter is accompanied by Pepper. Without waiting for any prompting, the Polterpup leaps into the warped flooring and swims to the Toad's aid. 

The Lakitu scowls at their interference. It rises from its lounging position and stabs the base of the fishing rod into its cloud. No longer encumbered, the ghost lifts both of its hands palms-up and forms two new constructs: a pair of very large Spiny Eggs. 

Luigi and Gooigi exchange a glance.

The entity throws both projectiles at Gooigi's party, but neither strike true. Luigi captures the first on the end of his Poltergust’s nozzle while his partner snags the other. The Vitiate gapes between the two, alarmed by the turn of events, and is too surprised to dodge when the Spiny Eggs are simultaneously launched back. It shrieks as the attack sends it flying into the back wall. When the ghost doesn’t immediately recover, Luigi uses the brief lull to check on the others. 

Pepper has successfully pulled the Toad from the paranormal hazard and Gooigi is helping to remove the fishing line from the teen's foot. The ghost hunter looks up when they feel a tug on Luigi’s end of their mental connection.

“Thanks for the save, buddy, I’ll handle this guy from here. But there’s another kid that needs help in that room.” He points where the Snifit disappeared to. “I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

Gooigi offers a two-finger salute and dashes down the hall to find another entrance. 

“Pepper, can you get the kid out of here?”

The spirit yaps in the positive. He takes the hem of the teen's shirt in his mouth and gently coaxes them to follow. The two are almost to the hall when a giant Spiny Egg suddenly bowls by and blocks the exit. Luigi whirls back to the illy-ignored ghost.

Where there once was a normal—albeit shadowy—looking Lakitu, now floats a twisted abomination. The iconic safety goggles have sunken into the entity’s head and rounded to mimic a singular eye, complete with glowing sclera and slitted pupil. The pitiful patch of hairs protruding from its scalp have lengthened into long, rope-like appendages that thrash and spark in the air like live wires. Claws have sprouted from the Vitiate’s stubby fingers and their blunted teeth now gleam with fine points. Lightning arcs around their darkened cloud as it slowly expands into a miniature thunderstorm.

Maybe Luigi shouldn’t have been so hasty in sending away his backup.

The Vitiate conjures another pair of Spiny Eggs and throws them at the plumber with a furious roar. Luigi catches the first with the Poltergust and barely avoids the second, nearly falling off the table in the process. He launches the spiky projectile back, but the ghost is expecting it this time and easily evades it. The Vitiate decides to add an addition Spiny Egg to his usual two and pitches each one with great vigor. The speed at which they’re thrown knocks Luigi off balance when he nabs the first, the second nearly grazes him, and the third strikes the table, causing Luigi to lose his hold on the wand and accidentally step partially off his platform. Nary a second after his foot submerges, the floor suddenly returns to normal, effectively trapping Luigi in place. The plumber grabs his leg and pulls in an attempt to free himself, to no avail. The board creaks under the strain of his struggle, and the nails seem to be loosening, but Luigi doubts it will dislodge in time to avoid another attack.

The dark entity cackles mirthfully at Luigi’s plight. The plumber scrabbles for his Poltergust’s wand, fully expecting the ghost to conjure more Spiny Eggs, but halts when he sees electricity starting to dance along the Lakitu's claws. Luigi can feel his hairs standing on end as the energy builds, and the air suddenly reeks of ozone. The Vitiate laughs uproariously when Luigi drops to a knee and braces himself, finding the plumber’s action to be foolish and hilariously futile. With a final guffaw, the ghost fires the gathered electricity at their target—

—and Luigi catches it.

The Vitiate recoils, gawking with open shock at the plumber’s seemingly impossible feat. Luigi meets the stupefied ghost's eyes and offers the slightest smirk.

“You picked the wrong element, my friend.”

Then, adding an extra charge of his own, Luigi fires the lightning right back at it. The blast is so intense, the entity’s corporeal form briefly scatters on impact like a corrupted, digital image. It reforms as the energy passes through it and collapses to the ground in a twitching mass of ectoplasm. Not willing to make the same mistake twice, Luigi fervently tugs at his leg until the board tears free from the floor and awkwardly hobbles over to the stunned ghost, wasting no time in capturing it in the Poltergust. Luigi heaves a weary breath, removing his hat and drawing the back of his hand across his forehead.

Two down…

“Dude.”

Luigi startles, forgetting that he still has an audience. He turns to find the Toad staring at him with open awe.

“That was… the most metal¹ thing I’ve ever seen.”

There’s that word again. Was it just the default adjective nowadays? Luigi supposes it’s more applicable to the current situation than in the context Koojo used it. Pepper is many things, but metal is not one of them.

As if summoned by the thought of their name, the happy, slobbering canine bounds over to Luigi and latches onto the wooden plank encompassing the plumber’s leg. They gnaw on it like a chew toy, growling playfully. Luigi sighs and drags his additional burden along as he makes his way to the gawking teenager.

“You alright?” he asks.

They blink slowly back at him.

“…physically?” he ventures.

“Oh! Yeah. Though I now have an irrational fear of hard wood floors.”

Luigi glances down at his trapped foot. “I… think I do too.” He wiggles his leg, getting Pepper's attention. “Hey Pepper, you can have the… uh, stick if you get it off my foot.”

The Polterpup perks, like the idea never occurred to him. With a muffled bark, they turn the plank intangible and pull it free from the plumber. Luigi sighs gratefully.

“Thanks buddy. Now, will you take… Sweet T., right?”

The teen blinks, offering a numb nod. “Right. Can you take Sweet T. back outside to their other friends?” 

Pepper garbles an affirmative around their new toy and nudges the Toad toward the now cleared hallway (the construct must have vanished when Luigi defeated the Lakitu). Sweet. T. stumbles after the spectral canine, tossing a hurried “thank you” over their shoulder as the duo disappear around the corner. Luigi takes a composing breath upon their departure and dashes off in the opposite direction.

Gooigi might be needing some back up of their own.

Gooigi, in fact, does not need back up.

Luigi is standing in the doorway of the adjacent room—the kitchen, as it were—with both arms dangling limply at his side. He had expected to stumble into the chaos of flying utensils and warped realities, not… this.

Gooigi and the Snifit are standing before the now complete silverware outline of the Paratroopa, the model of which is off to the side vomiting into a waste basket. The inside of the cutlery border is splattered with a dark, inky substance, similar to what the Lakitu had been using for its constructs. Both paranormal beings are looking up at the macabre creation, hands on their chin, contemplating it like an art piece at an exhibit. 

“…Gooigi, what in Stars’ name are you doing?”

Luigi's partner turns to him with a little wave and signs a response.

“Appreciating art?”

He nods, beckoning Luigi over. The plumber cautiously complies, subtly keeping an eye on the Vitiate as he draws near. The Snifit turns its head slightly at his approach, regarding him, but not hostilely so. It slowly gestures to the “art piece”.

“Uh… it’s… nice?” Luigi ventures.

The Vitiate tilts its head. Gooigi taps the plumber on the shoulder and signs a question.

“How does it make me feel?” he parrots. Luigi looks back at the arrangement of silverware and ectoplasm. “…tired.”

“That’s valid. It kinda makes me feel melancholy,” a new voice offers.

Luigi turns to find the Paratroopa behind him, also examining the Vitiate’s handy work. They look a little green, but there doesn’t appear to be a scratch on them.

“I think the ink represents inner turmoil, while the silverware is a metaphor for the tools we use to try and keep it contained.”

The Snifit nods approvingly. Luigi stares blankly.

“What do you see green guy?” the teen inquires.

Gooigi signs a brief reply. 

“Man, that’s deep.”

Luigi rubs at his temples. He doesn’t get modern art. “You, uh, wouldn’t happen to know of the artist Vincent Van Gore, would you?” he asks the Vitiate.

The Snifit tilts its head curiously. Luigi takes that as encouragement to elaborate.

“I think the two of you would get along great. He owns an art studio downtown that offers all sorts of mediums to explore.” Luigi reaches into his pocket and procures a business card. “You should check it out sometime. Oh! And here’s mine if you need help getting back to your haunt, or anything, really.”

The Vitiate accepts the slips of paper, examining them with interest. It offers Luigi a slow nod. 

“Dude, how many business cards are you carrying?” the teen asks.

“I have a lot of pockets, and a lot of contacts, that’s all you need to know.”

The Vitiate suddenly beckons the Paratroopa forward, gesturing to a blank part of the drywall. The teen stares back uncomprehendingly. Luigi flinches when the ghost calls forth a spare knife, but relaxes when the entity only uses it to crudely sign its name in illegible loopy cursive. Once finished, it offers the utensil handle-first to the Paratroopa.

“You… want me to sign?”

The Snifit nods.

“Sweet.”

The Paratroopa accepts the knife (all the while Luigi feels like an irresponsible adult) and carves their name just as crudely near the ghost's signature. 

“K-o-o-p-i-l,” he sounds out, somewhat redundantly.

The Vitiate nods, pleased, and slowly levitates the macabre artwork toward the wide window of the breakfast nook. With a wave of an arm, the entire wall explodes outward in a hail of glass and splintered wood. It waves again, this time as a goodbye, and flies off through the hole, art piece in tow. The trio wave numbly after it, mouths agape. 

Three down...

Sort of.

“…Dane is so dead when his parents come home.”

Luigi buries his face in his hands. The property damage just keeps piling up. “So, nausea and trauma aside, are you okay, Koopil?”

Koopil offers a thumbs up. “Yup. I may cry later, but overall, I’m golden. Believe it or not, this isn’t the craziest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“If you say so.” Luigi grimaces. He looks to his partner. “Gooigi, would you mind escorting Koopil back outside?”

“No need my green amigos. I’ll just, uh… exit through the new gaping hole in the wall.”

The ghost hunters exchange a glance.

“That… works too.”

And with that, Koopil takes off, calling his belated gratitude as he zooms out into the night.

Luigi turns to find his doppelgänger staring at him, arms folded and chest puffed up. He frowns. “You don’t have to look so smug about it. I could have solved that peacefully too, you know.” Gooigi turns on his heel, proudly placing his fists on his hips as he struts away. Luigi follows with a grumble. “Yeah, well, they still blew a hole in the wall. So there.”

Gooigi waves a hand through the air. Semantics.

Luigi rolls his eyes, but smiles good naturedly. His expression abruptly falls with a sudden realization. “Stars above, we should have asked Koopil if he had any idea where the other kids could be.”

Gooigi halts mid-step. At first, the plumber thinks it’s because of what he said, but when the ghost hunter turns around, he is pointing at something down the hall.

A narrow trickle of water is snaking out of a nearby bathroom, flowing unnaturally along the level ground. The little stream continues down the hall and under the door leading to the back yard.

Gooigi meets the plumber’s gaze. “I think we found our first clue,” he signs.

Chapter Text

The two ghost hunters cautiously approach the back door, Gooigi taking extra care not to step in the tiny streams of water trickling under the threshold. Luigi tries the doorknob and is pleased to find it unlocked. He slowly cracks the door and peeks inside. A simple mud room lies beyond. It is mostly empty save for a few pairs of shoes tucked under a bench and a sun hat perched on a hook hammered into the far wall. Another door opposite theirs leads outside.

Luigi pushes open the door and waves his partner inside. The green-clad plumber creeps over to the back door and peers through its glass panels. He expects to find a veranda, but is surprised to see a slightly more modern addition to the home. It is a pool enclosure—a lean-to glass sunroom, specifically, that has been modified so that it isn’t a glaring contrast to the original architecture. Beach balls, pool noodles, and other floaties are strewn about the tile and concrete floor. Exotic plants line the glass walls and hang from special hooks embedded in the ceiling's framing. Trickles of water snake along the ground, some even defy gravity and creep up the walls like reverse rain. Most of the streams, however, are drawn to the pool. The water within is unnaturally still, and without the pool light on, appears almost black in the darkness. In the middle of the pool drifts a single, purple lounge float, and on that stretch of plastic—most certainly not lounging—is a terrified, bright yellow Yoshi.

Luigi frowns. The teen appears to be alone, but the paranormal activity indicates otherwise.

“Alright,” he whispers, turning to his partner, “so this is what we’re—”

Gooigi isn’t there.

Luigi whirls completely around, scanning the room frantically. He halts, spying his green doppelgänger staring back at him from beyond the threshold and back down the hall. Gooigi offers a little wave.

“What are you doing?!” Luigi hisses.

The gooey ghost hunter points past the plumber and makes an “X” with his arms.

“What do you mean you’re not coming?!”

“I’m not a great swimmer,” they sign.

“Cute,” Luigi deadpans. “Just stay away from the pool.”

“I’ll still get wet. The ghost controls water.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Gooigi gestures pointedly to the unnaturally flowing water.

Oh. Duh.

“Sorry, I’m not really thinking straight,” Luigi sighs tiredly. “You go ahead and find the last kid. I’ll take care of this one.”

He really rather them not separate, but the ectomorph had a point. If Gooigi stayed, they wouldn’t be able to do much but watch.

The ghost hunter offers a thumbs-up and trudges back down the hall. Luigi watches them go until they disappear around the corner. He turns back to the sunroom door and takes a deep breath.

Here goes nothing.

Luigi slowly opens the door and steps outside. He performs another visual sweep of the enclosure, making sure there aren’t any ghosts lying in wait to ambush him. His brief scan comes up clean. If there are any ghosts in the room, they are either well-hidden or concealed on the invisible spectrum. Satisfied for the moment, Luigi’s focus hones in on the marooned Yoshi. The teen seems not to have taken notice of his presence.

Luigi takes a step toward the pool, but comes to an abrupt halt when his foot lands in a puddle with a rather loud splash. The Yoshi’s head snaps up at the sound, eyes wide with fear. Luigi raises his hands placatingly.

“It’s alright,” he calls, “I’m here to—”

“Shh!”

The yellow Yoshi swiftly cuts the plumber off, looking frantic. They both look down into the water at the sight of movement. A large tentacle rises from the murk and lightly grazes along the water's surface in a languid, sweeping arc. It disappears back into the pool's depths with a gentle swish.

Ah. So, the ghost is hiding in the pool. Pretty obvious in hindsight, Luigi muses.

The duo wait with baited breath to see if the entity will re-emerge. A beat passes. Two. Nothing stirs. They silently let out twin sighs of relief. The Yoshi gestures to the water, shooting Luigi a desperate, pleading look. Luigi only just keeps himself from offering reassurances aloud. He bites his lip, considering how to proceed.

“Do you know sign language?” he signs.

The Yoshi perks up, looking relieved. “Sure do!” they sign back.¹

Luigi mirrors their relief. This is going to make collaborating much easier. “What’s your name? And are you hurt in anyway?”

“My name is Nolem. I’m okay, but…” They cast a fearful look downward. “I’m… kinda hydrophobic.”

Luigi winces. That certainly explains why the ghost chose Nolem as their victim, and why they weren’t doing much to try to scare them. The poor kid was already terrified. Why waste energy when the mere presence of water already instilled so much fear?

“Alright, Nolem, I’m going to get you out of here, but we need to work together, okay?”

The Yoshi nods, puffing up with determination.

“Okay,” Luigi continues. “First, I’m going to need you to jump over here—”

“WHAT?!”

Luigi flinches at the loud outburst. Nolem swiftly covers their mouth, eyes going impossibly wider at their slip. Both of them stare into the dark depths of the pool with paralyzing anticipation. There isn’t so much as a ripple.

“It’s alright, take a deep breath, Nolem,” Luigi soothes. “I know this isn’t going to be easy, but I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, okay?”

Nolem slowly pulls their hands away from their mouth and follows Luigi’s prompting. One shaky inhale and exhale later, they nod in acknowledgement.

“Okay. What do I do after I jump?”

Luigi glances around, spying a door leading out of the sunroom and into the backyard proper. He points to it.

“Do you know if that door is locked?” he asks.

“Yeah, the ghost did something to it. I tried to get out that way when this whole mess started, but when I touched the handle it shocked me. That’s how I got cornered.”

So, the back entrance is sealed too. Figures. Luigi can break the spell with his key like he did out front, but that will definitely spur the ghost into attacking. He needs to get the kid out of the line of fire first.

“Alright, in that case, I need you to run to the house and hide in the mudroom. I’ll take care of the ghost.”

Nolem glances uncertainly between Luigi and the pool’s edge.

“Just keep your eyes on me. You can do it, Nolem.”

The yellow Yoshi nods absently, rising on unsteady legs. Despite their shaking, they have remarkable balance, Luigi notes. The teen braces themself, Luigi adopting a similar stance, and leaps from their plastic island. With an extra kick from their flutter-jump, they easily clear the water and land soundly on the concrete by the plumber.

Nary a second after they touch the ground does a massive tentacle breach the water’s surface and shoot out to reclaim its prize. Luigi swiftly steps into the appendage's path and repels it with a jolt of lightning. The limb recoils violently, twitching and thrashing as it retreats back into the safety of the pool. But it doesn’t end there. Water explodes upward like an erupting geyser, the burst accompanied by a furious roar that rattles the glass panels and shakes the very room. The potted plants hanging from the ceiling crash to floor, the clatter of pottery nearly lost in the deafening din. As the spray settles, Luigi is finally given his first look of the raging Vitiate.

It is a Blooper. Was a Blooper, at some point. Now the creature looks more like something out of mythology. Better yet, a nightmare. The squid is gigantic, nearly the length of a bus—and that’s not including its arms. Instead of two eyes, they possess six; three in a vertical line on opposite sides of its head. A spiked ridge runs down the middle of its mantle, and its stabilizing fin resembles a pair of membranous wings. But perhaps the most frightening features are the hooked suckers of its tentacles and the massive, snapping beak at the center of it all.

All six eyes zero in on Luigi.

“Uh...” the plumber gapes, “there wouldn’t happen to be a chance that we could talk this out, would there?"

A pillar of water rises from the pool and cracks through the air like a whip, striking Luigi and sending him flying across the room. The plumber collides with the glass wall, cracking, but not shattering it. He falls to his knees, soaked and winded.

“Get away from me!"

Luigi’s head snaps up. The yellow Yoshi is frantically dodging the Vitiate’s sweeping arms as they rush back to the house. Just before Nolem reaches the mudroom door, it slams shut with a clear finality. Sure enough, when the teen tries the knob, it doesn’t budge.

Of course.

The plumber shakes off his daze and leaps to his feet. He curls a fist, preparing to deliver another strike from his Thunderhand technique, but hastily dismisses the charge when it tries to creep up his arm. Ah, right, the water. Drenched as he is, Luigi's become a walking conductor. There's a chance he could still keep the lightning under control, but it feels far too risky a wager.

Luigi dashes across the puddle-spotted concrete, making a beeline for the cornered Yoshi. He arrives just in time for Nolem to get snatched up, but before the teen is dragged too far, he manages to grab ahold of the offending tentacle. The plumber abruptly finds himself in a high stakes game of tug-o-war.

Something about this feels… familiar. In a strange, vicarious way. Luigi suddenly remembers a story Mario had told him about his adventures on Delfino Island. The red-clad plumber had been attacked by a giant Blooper, and he defeated it by…

Oh.

Luigi isn’t sure if the method will translate well to a ghost Blooper, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

The plumber digs in his heels and re-doubles his effort. Slowly, he gains ground, and with a final, brutal tug, the tentacle snaps free from the entity’s body. Opposing force now absent, Luigi and Nolem fall backward in a heap with startled yelps. The detached limb flops erratically around them like a worm caught in the beak of a bird. Nolem kicks the appendage away, suddenly looking more green than yellow.

“I think I’m gonna be sick," they groan.

Luigi grimaces in silent agreement. How did his brother manage to do this without losing his lunch?

The Vitiate bellows with open fury, thrashing about with unkempt rage. Its detached arm clumsily inches its way back to the ghost, but Luigi has the foresight to intervene and swiftly vacuums it up. Unsurprisingly, this only enrages the dark entity further. The Blooper raises its remaining limbs with purpose, and suddenly all the water begins to drift upwards like gravity had been set in reverse. The suspended liquid may have been a beautiful sight in other circumstances, but the notion is quickly lost as the water starts to speed through the air, spinning faster and faster with the Vitiate at its center like the eye of a tropical storm. Nolem and Luigi hastily move to put distance between themselves and the raging vortex, but the retreat ultimately proves to be futile as the growing whirlpool inevitably swallows them up.

Gooigi had been wise to go on without him.

Around and around the mortal duo go, breaching the swirling waters only to be sucked back under. They’re tossed about like living laundry in a massive washing machine. Finally, the Blooper plucks its victims from their paranormal rinse cycle and holds them aloft, taking odd care not to pierce them with the hooked suckers of its tentacles. The Vitiate gives Luigi a subtle, rib-bruising squeeze, lifting him higher with an air of triumph.

“Hey, Luigi—!" Nolem shouts, trying to be heard over the roar of rushing water, “I don’t mean to sound pushy, but we could really use another plan right about now!"

No kidding, Luigi thinks. The Thunderhand is even less viable now that everything is soaked (Luigi distantly wonders if this had been the dark entity’s intent). He’ll have to find some other way to weaken the Blooper. The plumber frantically scans his surroundings, looking for something he can use. Luigi and Nolem weren’t the only ones swept up in the raging waters; floaties, potted plants, and pool-side furniture have also been subjected to the Blooper’s torrential torment. A beach ball swirls into view, and Luigi finds himself seized by a memory and thrust back in time. He’s in a giant crib (or maybe he’s just small?), dodging rocking horses and toys hurled at him by a ghostly infant.

Well. It would seem the past was quite the source of inspiration today.

Luigi wiggles and writhes until he manages to free an arm as well as the Poltergust’s wand. When the beach ball comes back around, the plumber switches on the device and captures the wayward pool toy. It’s an awkward feat to do one-handed, but he manages. Slowly, carefully, Luigi takes aim at the Vitiate’s face and throws the intake into reverse.

The ball strikes the squid's head with a gentle pap and bounces harmlessly back into the whirlpool. All three of the room’s occupants stare quietly, blankly, as the plastic sphere is swept away.

“Dude. What was that?”

“I don’t know! It worked when I fought a baby!”

“You fought a baby?”

The Blooper hisses a quiet laugh, bringing Luigi closer to its snapping beak. Luigi’s eyes widen. Does the Vitiate really intend to eat him? Surely, this is just a fear tactic?

He can’t take that chance.

Again, Luigi searches through the whirlpool’s debris, hoping for something more useful this time. He spies a closed beach umbrella and quickly formulates a plan. The plumber vacuums up the umbrella just before it passes by. Instead of immediately launching it at the ghost, he waits until the entity brings him within arms-length of its beak. When the bill widens as if to take a bite, Luigi jams the umbrella in the Blooper’s maw and triggers the opening mechanism.

The Vitiate gags on the apparatus and drops the two mortals in surprise. Luigi and Nolem are joined in their rapid descent by the collapsing whirlpool and plethora of pool-side furniture. They land with varying degrees of grace and quickly move out of the way of the falling projectiles. Once the hazards have all fallen, Luigi leaps into action, finding opportunity in the Blooper’s struggle to remove the umbrella. He whips out the Poltergust’s wand and catches one of ghost’s arms in its vortex, pulling with all his might until the appendage finally detaches. Just like the first, he vacuums it up before it can return to the Blooper’s body.

Looks like Mario’s method is the way to go after all.

Luigi manages to remove another tentacle before the dark entity seems to remember it can just phase the obstruction out of its mouth (apparently, it’s not as smart as he thought). Umbrella now gone, the ghost redirects its attention back to the plumber. Luigi easily dodges the ghost’s first swipe, the second very nearly hits its mark, and he manages to catch the third with the Poltergust. Too late does the plumber realize his mistake—he's left himself wide open. The Vitiate reels back for a fourth attempt, but just before it swings, a lifesaver strikes it in one of its many eyes. It recoils with an angry yowl, turning to locate its attacker—the yellow Yoshi.

“Hey, ghost! How does it feel to literally be hit by irony?" Nolem yells mockingly. They pause, suddenly looking uncertain, and turn to Luigi. “Wait, is that irony? I never know if I’m using that word right."

Luigi blinks. “Uh..."

A tentacle slams down by the teen, who barely leaps out of the way in time with a startled yelp.

“You know what? We’ll find a dictionary later. Keep doing that maiming stuff and I’ll distract the big guy!"

The teen runs off before Luigi can object. He’d rather the Yoshi not get involved, but with nowhere to run or hide, there weren’t many other options. Luigi returns his focus to the macabre task at hand.

The two work surprisingly well together. When the plumber accosts another limb, Nolem is quick to draw the ghost’s attention while he removes it. When the ghost gets too close to catching the Yoshi, Luigi swiftly intervenes with a diversion of his own. In a surprisingly short amount of time, their teamwork has reduced the number of tentacles down to two.

“We’re almost there, Nolem!" Luigi shouts, grabbing the second-to-last appendage. “Just hold on for a little longer!"

“Can do!" they call back, ducking under the remaining free tentacle’s swipe. “This surprisingly isn’t that hard—!"

The teen trips over a wayward pool noodle, flinging themselves into a pile of floaties with a squawk. They become lodged in an inflatable donut.

“I jinxed it!"

Luigi stares in horror as the tangled teen struggles to upright themselves. The final tentacle rears back like a snake poised to strike. It lashes out—

—and is intercepted by a white blur.

“Pepper?!"

The Polterpup wags his tail excitedly in acknowledgement, mouth currently occupied by the Blooper’s arm. Pepper tugs on the appendage with a playful growl, seemingly not understanding the severity of the situation. Then, with an unprecedented display of strength, the spectral canine leaps backward and tears away the final limb.

The Vitiate shrieks with fury and propels itself at the Polterpup like a torpedo. Luigi quickly snags the ghost in the Poltergust’s powerful gale and strains to reel it in. The dark entity drags the plumber quite a distance before Luigi can stun it with a shock from the Poltergust’s Power Surge. He takes advantage of the Vitiate’s brief stupor and slams it into the ground. Already greatly weakened from its dismemberment, the Blooper isn’t able to resist the Poltergust’s pull much longer before it finally disappears down the nozzle with a defiant shriek.

Four down...

“Wow. How did all that even fit in there?"

Luigi looks over to find Nolem (sans donut) staring at the ghost catching device with awe. The plumber shrugs, removing his hat and wringing it out over the half-empty pool.

“I don’t really understand the science behind it, honestly. I’d tell you to ask its inventor, but... you’ll have to be willing to sacrifice your afternoon—he tends to ramble."

“Yikes. Hard pass on the lecture. I’ll stay in blissful ignorance."

“Fair enough."

Pepper bounds over to the plumber, giant tentacle clamped firmly in their maw. The Polterpup sits at Luigi’s feet, tail wagging proudly as they give their prize a hearty shake.

“Heh. That’s adorable and horrifying." Nolem smiles. “Is he yours?"

“Yes and no. Pepper’s a bit of a free spirit." Luigi winces. “Pun unintended."

“Pun away, dude, pun away.” They take a knee by the Polterpup and gently pat him on the head. “Thank you for saving me, little Deus ex Machina."²

Pepper drops the tentacle and offers a happy bark in reply.

“And thank you, Luigi. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up."

“It’s no problem, but I think I owe you thanks as well. You were very brave to help the way you did."

“Heh, I kinda was, wasn’t I?" Nolem puffs up at the praise. “Maybe I could be an adventurer someday!”

“You certainly have the potential,” Luigi affirms. He falters, realizing what he said, and quickly back-tracks. “But, uh, stay in school—and if anyone asks, I told you to become a lawyer."

“Roger that."

Luigi ushers the Yoshi to the pool enclosure’s back entrance. With the ghost defeated, the spell keeping the door sealed has dissipated, allowing the plumber to open the door unhindered.

“Your friends are waiting for you out front. I need to help my partner wrap things up here, so I can’t leave just yet. Do you want Pepper to come with you?"

Nolem shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll be fine. Something tells me you’ll need him more." They hesitate at the door. “Who all is left anyway?"

Luigi does a quick role count in his head. “Just one. Dane, I believe. If my partner hasn’t saved him already, anyway."

Nolem grimaces. “Not to doubt your partner’s abilities—I don’t even know who they are after all—but I don’t think he’s going to have an easy time with the ghost that got Dane."

“You saw it? What did it look like?"

“Shadowy, like the Blooper, but it was wearing a hood, so I didn’t get a good look at its face. Doesn’t matter though, it was what it felt like that worries me. I’m no ghost expert, but something was wrong with that thing. Makes the Blooper seem cuddly by comparison." They shudder involuntarily. “You’re going to need all the help you can get."

Luigi absorbs the new details with no small amount of dread and unease. As per the wont of his adventures, it would appear he was about to fight the big boss.

“Thank you for the warning. If it’s as bad as you say, I better get moving."

The Yoshi nods grimly. “Good luck, man."

And with that, they’re gone.

Luigi sighs and turns back to the Polterpup. “Alright buddy, let’s go—"

The plumber blanches. Pepper is rolling on the Vitiate’s detached limb, panting happily and looking quite pleased with himself.³

“Pepper no! Bad doggie! That’s disgusting!"

Pepper leaps up at his human’s call and barks excitedly at the plumber. Luigi groans, striding over and quickly vacuuming up the stray appendage. He scowls down at the canine; someone was getting a bath when they got home (Stars, they both needed to bathe).

“Gross dog," he grumbles.

Pepper pants up at Luigi with a dopey smile. Luigi rolls his eyes and trudges back to the mudroom door.

“Come on Pepper. We still have work to do."

Chapter Text

When Luigi re-enters the house, he immediately notices that the atmosphere feels, for lack of a better word, lighter. The oppressive energy from before has almost completely dissipated, like a heavy fog burning away in the morning sun. It’s incredible how much a difference it makes now that the home has four less entities darkening its halls. The improvement is welcoming, but Luigi doesn’t allow it to lower his guard.

Pepper once again leads the charge, snout to the ground as he tracks Gooigi’s scent. They trek silently through the halls, Luigi staying extra vigilant as the Polterpup focuses on their task. Soon, the duo find themselves at the bottom of a narrow staircase.

So, they’re on the second story, are they? It makes sense, now that Luigi thinks about it. Koojo had implied the summoning had taken place in a room upstairs.  

Pepper abruptly leaps up onto the fourth step. They pause and turn around, looking at the plumber expectantly. Luigi holsters the Poltergust’s wand and silently ascends after them. He can’t help but wonder if the stairs have been tampered with—another haunting classic among ghosts and spirits. The thought has Luigi suddenly gripping the railing like a lifeline, memories of steps folding unnaturally like blinds in a window drifting to the forefront of his mind. He rather not have friction burns added to the growing list of tonight’s endured abuse.

A low growl pulls Luigi from his scrutiny of the old planks. His head snaps up to find Pepper just one step shy from the landing. The spectral canine's tail is low, though not tucked, and had the spirit possessed proper ears, Luigi is certain they would be drawn back. Luigi’s brows furrow with concern and trepidation. With each ghost he captured, Pepper had slowly begun to relax until they were more like their happy, go-lucky self. To see them so suddenly back on edge does not bode well.

“Pepper?” Luigi whispers, cautiously approaching the spirit, “What’s wrong?"

The Polterpup gives no indication that they heard him. Then, without warning, they leap the remaining distance to the second story landing. The air ripples around the spectral canine, and they vanish before they even touch the floor.

Now, disappearing from the visible spectrum is not exactly an unusual thing for spirits—especially Pepper—but Luigi knows magic-based shenanigans when he sees it. The Polterpup didn’t turn invisible, they were forcibly displaced.

The spirit canine had passed through a portal.

Luigi swears under his breath. He doesn’t have the tools to determine the nature of the portal—where it leads, if it is a one-way trip—and he doesn’t have the time to retrieve them. Still, it would be foolish to proceed without at least informing the professor of the situation. Luigi pulls out his battered phone and sends E. Gadd a quick update (as well as a silent thanks for “hero-proofing” the device). With that done, the plumber cautiously ascends the remaining steps. He hesitates at the landing.

He steps forward.

A fragile veil shatters like glass, and a thick miasma crashes into him like a wave. It’s as if Luigi had walked out into a blizzard after spending hours in a sauna. The air practically vibrates with negative energy, and the pressure is borderline suffocating. Luigi braces himself against a wall as he takes a moment to catch his breath and adjust to the staggering change in atmosphere.

And he thought the first floor had been bad.

Luigi has dealt with his fair share of dark entities in the past, but he can’t recall a ghost with this kind of power. Spirits, yes, but they didn’t usually exude such… malice. Not even King Boo. As difficult as it is for Luigi to admit, the spectral monarch isn’t necessarily evil. An egomaniacal jerk, certainly, but not evil. This ghost? Well, the plumber understands now why Nolem had been so disturbed by it.

Luigi distantly wonders how his partner felt when he had first breached the delicate barrier. As a supernatural entity himself, it may not have been as harsh, but certainly disconcerting. The plumber shudders involuntarily at the thought of what the kid must have endured. They would have adapted to it by now, but paranormal miasmas like this are especially taxing if you lack any experience with them. 

Luigi straightens and gives his head a clearing shake. He fully turns around, not surprised, but no less uneasy to find the stairs are gone. In its place is a wall. When he reaches out to touch it, he finds it is completely solid—the portal had been one-way after all. On a whim, Luigi retrieves his phone and attempts to contact the professor. There isn’t the faintest signal. Luigi sighs, thankful that he had the foresight to contact his mentor before entering the unknown. He pockets the now useless device and begins making his way down the empty hallway.

There’s no turning back now.

Luigi silently takes in his surroundings as he goes. The walls are sparsely decorated with family photos and tasteful paintings. The jade-green wallpaper beneath them is minutely faded, but Luigi gets the impression that’s intentional. A plush, wine-red rug lies beneath his feet, narrowly concealing the worn floorboards below.

Luigi grimaces at the color-scheme. Definitely not to his taste, but he isn’t here to critique interior design.

The plumber pauses at an intersection in the hall, looking down each of the alternate paths with a frown. It’s unnervingly quiet, and there’s no visible abnormalities to indicate where the ghosts or wayward spirit hound may have gone.

Visible…

Luigi retrieves the Poltergust's wand from its holster and activates the Dark-Light. He aims the beam downward and sweeps it along the floor. Sure enough, a set of glowing paw prints shimmer into view, trailing down the adjacent hallway. With a silent cheer, Luigi follows Pepper's tracks.

The prints lead Luigi to the end of the hall and take a sharp left. Luigi silently follows, distantly noting that the trail has intermittent gaps near areas where the hallways branch off. Time passes. After turning what feels like the dozenth corner, Luigi finally stops—struck dumb by a new development.

The tracks are now pointing toward him.

Luigi frowns. He has been diligently following the paw prints, never straying from their path, and there’s no shift in the tracks to indicate Pepper had changed direction. So far, it’s been an oddly straight trail. The plumber turns in place and shines the Dark-Light down on the carpet behind him. He is further baffled to find the tracks abruptly end at the corner he had just rounded.

Luigi tears his eyes from the anomaly to properly inspect his surroundings. Now that he is paying closer attention, Luigi realizes that the hallway feels oddly familiar. The placement of the doors, the console table adorned with family photos, the painting of a lush meadow... he’s been here before. How had he gotten so turned around? It’s a large house, sure, but the plumber has navigated sprawling manors with little difficulty—this should be nothing in comparison.

Unless...

Dread settles in Luigi’s stomach as a theory pops into his mind. Without a word, Luigi returns the Poltergust’s wand to its holster and takes off down the hall. He turns left when it intersects with another hall, and again at the next corner. If he’s picturing the floorplan in his head correctly, he is currently in a hall that runs parallel to his starting point. Luigi turns right—

—and finds himself at the end of a very familiar hallway.

Luigi stares at the meadow painting with a neutral expression, but internally, he is screaming. The path he took should have led him away from here. It makes no logical sense that he ended up back where he started. But logic has no place here, Luigi realizes. Not where the paranormal are concerned.

There’s not a doubt in Luigi’s mind; the hallways have been enchanted. Specifically, where they intersect. Tracking Pepper is going to be next to impossible unless Luigi can establish a pattern.

He decides to first test the enchantment’s consistency. Will taking the same path yield the same results? The plumber dashes down the hall and turns left as he had before. He nearly trips when he winds up right where he came from. 

Luigi glares at the meadow painting as if it had personally offended him. The drop-off points are indeed inconsistent. For clarity’s sake, he retraces his steps to see if it makes any impact. This time, Luigi ends up in a different hallway, one he doesn’t recognize. He can say this with confidence, because this one has an onion ¹ lying in the middle of the floor, and he would have certainly remembered passing that little oddity.

So much for finding a pattern.

Luigi distantly recalls a towering hotel and a floor ruled by a trio of ghostly magicians. How he traveled from room-to-nonsensical-room in search of the next elevator button. At one point, the triplets had placed an enchantment on the doorways, and the plumber found himself entering bathrooms instead of hallways, and stages instead of suites. There had seemed to be no rhyme or reason to where the doors led, but they had at least stayed consistent—the path remaining the same when he found himself backtracking.

Whatever spell this ghost is using is completely random. There's no puzzle for Luigi to solve, and that just makes things infinitely more difficult.

A familiar bark at his left quickly pulls Luigi from his silent musing. He whirls to the sound and is beyond relieved to find his canine companion sitting halfway down the adjacent passageway. Luigi moves to join them, but hesitates at the threshold of the intersecting halls, afraid he will be thrown into a new area should he dare cross. Seeing his hesitation, the Polterpup confidently trots up to the plumber and tugs on his pant leg until he crosses over the metaphorical line. Pepper releases their hold and dashes back down the hall with a bark of encouragement. The plumber casts a furtive glance over his shoulder, bemused.

Why hadn’t the enchantment worked that time?

Luigi quietly approaches Pepper, offering the latter a hushed reprimand for running off. His half-hearted scolding sputters out as he takes notice of what has captured the canine's attention. The pup is plopped before an innocuous, oak door. There aren’t any visible barriers, and the plumber doesn’t feel any malicious energy warning off potential intruders. While relieving, it doesn’t ease the trepidation settling in the plumber’s gut. He glances at the Polterpup; they don’t appear to be bothered by whatever lay on the other side of this door. Luigi cautiously grasps the handle, and when it offers no resistance, he opens the door.

The plumber isn’t sure what he expected to find on the other side—other than an angry ghost—but a cramped hall closet certainly wouldn’t have been his first guess. He is greeted by an assortment of coats, shoes, and—to his quiet amusement—a vacuum cleaner. Luigi quirks a brow at the bland discovery. Why did Pepper lead him to a closet? What was he supposed to find here?

Luigi reaches toward the wall of coats, intending to part them, when something suddenly lunges from the storage space’s depths.

“Take this, evil ghost!"

Luigi narrowly avoids being brained by a swinging clothes iron. When his attacker misses, their forward momentum sends them crashing to the floor in a heap. Luigi hastily steps back but pauses in his retreat as he takes in the ambusher’s appearance.

They’re a Doogan—an adolescent with russet fur and pale blue eyes. The longer patch of hair on their head is hidden by a baseball cap bearing a team mascot Luigi doesn’t recognize, presumably from the kid’s school.

Pepper curiously sniffs at the fallen teen. The Doogan scoots away with a startled yelp, holding the clothing iron up like a shield. “Stay back!” he barks. “I’m warning you!”

When Pepper ignores the threat and steps a little closer, the teenager thrusts his unconventional means of defense out to deflect them. Pepper, rather unimpressed, simply catches the ironing tool in his maw. The Doogan fumbles his hold in surprise. With a shake of Pepper’s head, the iron goes flying back into the closet.

The teen looks between his discarded weapon and the Polterpup with wide eyes. “What the—? Why didn’t it work?! I thought ghosts couldn’t stand iron!" ²

“Iron, as in the metal,” Luigi corrects, somewhat amused, “not the tool you use to get wrinkles out of clothes. Also, iron isn’t as effective as folklore makes it out to be.”

“Oh." The teen frowns to himself. “I knew I should have tried to whittle a stake instead."

“...where are you getting your paranormal information from?"

“The s/cryptids page on the ‘seenit’ forum. Those guys really seemed to know their stuff, so I, uh..." They trail off, looking up at the plumber with sudden recognition. “Star bits and pieces—you’re Luigi.” The teen smiles, laughing nervously. “Luigi’s in my house. I’m being rescued by one of the Mario Brothers. This is awesome."

Luigi can’t help but smile back, amused by the reaction. Mario faces star-struck gawping almost every day, but for Luigi, such encounters are still largely novel (he honestly doesn’t know how his brother handles it). “You must be Dane."

“Wha—Oh! Yeah, that’s me. Dane—Dane Pawper. Well, my parents named me Larry, so my full name is Larry Dane Pawper but who wants to go by Larry?" He blinks, suddenly looking embarrassed. “Sorry, I ramble when I’m nervous."

“No worries, I’m the same way." Luigi offers Dane his hand to help the teen up. They happily accept the offer, but grimace as they feel his damp glove.

“Hey, why are you all wet?” Dane asks, brow raised.

“I shower with my clothes on.”

That startles a laugh out of the teen, and Luigi is grateful they hadn’t been put off by his flat tone. Sometimes his sense of humor comes off as a touch derisive, even if it’s not his intention.

“No, but seriously, what happened?” The teen glances up and down the hall, as if searching for the cause of Luigi’s saturated state. “Did one of our pipes burst again?”

Luigi imperceptibly cringes, feeling a tad self-conscious. “A Blooper ghost threw your pool at me.”

“Oh...” Dane rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, looking anywhere but at Luigi. “I’m sorry. I... This is my fault. All these ghosts are here because of me," he mumbles. “I’m the one that read from the book."

Luigi’s brows rise marginally. Dane was the summoner? That certainly explains why the strongest ghost targeted him. “I don’t think it’s fair for you to take all the blame. From what Koojo told me, it was a group decision."

The Doogan’s eyes light up. “You talked to Koojo? Is he okay? What about the others?"

“He’s fine, they all are," Luigi assures. “They’re outside waiting with a friend while my partners and I handle the rest of these ghosts."

Dane’s shoulders sag with relief. “Thank the Stars," he sighs. Then, curiously, “Wait, partners? As in more than one? Is Mario here too?"

Luigi fights back a laugh. His brother is talented in many things, but for whatever reason, Mario flounders whenever he tries to wield the Poltergust.

“No, ghost hunting isn’t really his thing," he says mildly. “Pepper and Gooigi are my partners in crime tonight."

The teen perks, suddenly looking elated. “Dude! Same here!”

When Luigi gives him an odd look, Dane reaches into the pockets of his orange jacket and procures a pepper shaker and a pair of sunglasses with a large stylized ‘G’ printed on the arms. Luigi stares at the items with thinly veiled dismay.

“Good Grambi,” Luigi mumbles quietly, “The Boos back at the mansion would adore you.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Dare I ask why you have pepper in your pocket?”

“For protection,” the kid says like it’s obvious. “From demons!”

Luigi takes a deep, composing breath. “Remind me to make some book recommendations after we get out of here,” he says tiredly. “And to clarify, Pepper is my dog. Also, I said Gooigi, not the fashion brand.”

“Goo... igi...?” Dane repeats slowly. “Is that a portmanteau of ‘Goo’ and ‘Luigi’?”

Luigi offers a somewhat solemn nod.

“Uh... would this ‘Gooigi’ person happen to look like you if you were a lime-green fruit snack?”

“You’ve seen him?”

The teen suddenly looks embarrassed. “Yeah... I, uh, kinda ran away... from him...?” His voice lilts as if asking a question. At Luigi’s blank stare, he hurries to elaborate. “I didn’t know he was a good guy!”

“You just said he looks exactly like me.”

“Man, I don’t know! I thought he was some kind of evil shapeshifter the armored ghost summoned to try and trick me! When I first saw them, they were standing together all buddy-buddy, looking at that awful spell book.”

Luigi frowns to himself, unnerved by the revelation. Gooigi knows better than to attempt magic on his own. Luigi and the professor both were very clear in teaching him about the dangers of the arcane arts. What could have pushed Gooigi to ignore their warnings? And then there was the other matter...

“Armored ghost?” Luigi asks. Nolem had said Dane’s attacker was wearing a hood. He didn’t mention anything about armor…

“Yeah, it was a Koopa wearing old armor—really old armor—and he talked weird.” Dane begins to wring his hands nervously. “Anyway, your buddy tried to convince me he was there to help, but while I was distracted, the armored ghost snuck up behind me and grabbed me! Then it got really cold.” The kid shudders. “Next thing I know, I’m on the ground, and Gummy Man is reaching for me. I freaked out and ran past him, and then both of them started chasing me!” Dane frowns to himself. “I thought they were working together, but looking back, your buddy must have just been trying to stop the other guy...”

A dozen questions pop into the plumber’s mind. The first to leave his mouth is, undoubtedly, the least imperative.

“...Gummy Man?"

“I’m not very creative."

Maybe not, but Luigi is definitely going to tease his partner about this later. “What happened after that?”

“Magic hallway shenanigans,” Dane shrugs. “I turned a corner, and they were gone. I considered trying to find the stairs again, but I wasn’t about to risk another encounter with that armored jerk, so I hid in this closet instead. I’ve been here ever since.”

Luigi nods slowly to himself as he processes the teen’s words. When he doesn’t respond after a couple beats of silence, Dane regards him with apprehension.

“Hey, uh, you’re not mad at me, are you?” he asks timidly. “Cause I’m sorry about running from your friend—”

Luigi quickly shakes his head. “No! No, I’m not mad. Just... confused,” he brings a hand to his chin, but quickly aborts the move at the unpleasant feeling of his damp glove. “Your friend, Nolem, told me the ghost that came after you was wearing a hood, not armor.”

“Oh! No, he was right,” the Doogan nods emphatically, “The hooded ghost came after me first. The armored ghost didn’t start chasing me until after he fought the hooded guy.”

Luigi can feel a headache coming on. He’s been so focused on contending with the hooded entity that he completely forgot Koojo had said there were six ghosts. He sighs, resisting the urge to rub at his temples. “How about you start from the beginning? Right after the ghosts were summoned.”

“Uh... okay...” Dane scratches at the edge of his cap. “Well, we immediately knew something was off about the ghosts, but we—dumbly—tried to ask them questions anyway. They just... started laughing. Real creepy-like. All except for the armored and hooded ghost. I tried to read the spell that would dismiss them, but the hooded ghost swiped the book from me and then, boom! I’m suddenly pinned to the wall by magic.” The Doogan wiggles his fingers with emphasis. “All the other ghosts chased after my friends.” Dane pauses for a moment, looking uncertain. “Wait, no... not all the ghosts. The armored ghost stayed behind and started attacking hooded mcfreako. I think they were fighting over the spell book...”

Luigi winces imperceptibly. Whatever those dark entities wanted with the book, it couldn’t be good. “I take it the armored ghost won?”

“Not at first. The hooded ghost wasted no time in making use of that book. It did... something to the armored ghost—cast a spell on them, I think—and while our knight in rusted armor was recovering, it... called for back-up.”

...no. Oh please don’t let that mean what it implies.

“Dane,” Luigi says quietly, “How many ghosts are up here?”

“Including the hooded and armored ghost? Four.”³

Luigi briefly closes his eyes, sighing heavily. It’s still less than ideal, but he was anticipating much worse. “Can you describe the other two ghosts?”

“Yeah. One of ‘em was a Clubba—shadowy, like the others—and the second ghost was... I don’t even know. They just kinda looked like a bad Halloween costume. Not very threatening. At. All.” The teen frowns suddenly, scratching their head. “Things sort of get fuzzy after that. If they summoned anything else, I don’t remember seeing it. I must have blacked out at some point, because one second everyone was fighting, and the next the hooded ghost was gone. Then the armored ghost had the book, and they were coming after me and I ran and somehow managed to lose them, but I couldn’t find the stairs because magic and then I saw your green friend with the armored ghost and got the world’s worst hug and freaked out and ran even more and—!”

“Whoa! Easy there, Dane. Deep breaths.”

“Sorry! Sorry, I know, I’m rambling again.” Dane takes an exaggerated breath and sighs. “Anyway, you know the rest from there. I ducked into this closet and... here we are.” He looks to Luigi, eyes imploring. “I don’t understand... Why are these ghosts so angry? All we wanted was for them to tell us our fortunes!”

Luigi stares back at the teen, utterly bewildered. “You summoned dark entities to tell you your fortune?”

“We didn’t know they were going to be evil ghosts! That’s not what the spell said!”

“What, exactly, was the spell?”

“…I don’t remember. Hold on, let me check.” Before Luigi can ask what they mean, Dane pulls a cellphone out of their pocket. “I took a picture of part of the page. It’s in a weird language, so I plugged part of the spell into Goomble translate. It says something about fortune telling ghosts.” The teen passes their phone to Luigi, who accepts it with raised brows.

“You have a signal up here?”

Dane shakes their head. “Nope. Not a single bar. But lucky for us, I had the foresight to do a screen cap on the results before we started the séance.” He frowns to himself. “Too bad I didn’t have the foresight not to read from the book in the first place.”

Luigi doesn’t deign to comment, too focused on scrutinizing the image on the Doogan’s phone. He vaguely recognizes the language, and though he is far from fluent, he can discern a few words and phrases. They, unfortunately, don’t line up with Goomble’s shoddy translation.

Luigi grimaces, looking rather pained. “Dane, this isn’t the correct translation.”

“Wait, Goomble translate is wrong?” Dane asks, eyes wide, “Since when does that happen?!”

Luigi isn’t sure if the kid is being sincere or facetious. Before he can decide whether to answer the question, Dane plows ahead with another one. “Well, what’s it say, then?”

“I can’t give you an exact translation, but I can promise you it’s not a spell to summon ghosts that tell your fortune.” Luigi pauses, looking more and more exhausted the longer he studies the image. “It summons ghosts that bring misfortune.”

Dane stares quietly back at the plumber. “…Someone at Goomble is getting fired.”

“I doubt it,” Luigi sighs, returning the teen’s phone. As an afterthought, he reaches into his pocket and procures a purple business card. He hands it to Dane. “Here, if you want to meet a real fortune telling ghost, I recommend Madame Clairvoya. She’s a bit… eccentric, but she won’t destroy your home or abduct your friends, so… there’s that.”

“I’m sold.” Dane flips the card, inspecting it. “Hey, why is this dry when you’re still all soggy?”

“I get all my business cards charmed by a stationary wizard.”

The teen blinks back at him.

“Yes,” Luigi says eventually, “that is a real thing.”

“Okay… why not get your clothes charmed, too?”

“Have you ever tried washing waterproof clothes?”

“…I see your point.”

A sudden growl startles the two mortals, drawing their attention to its source: the Polterpup. Pepper is staring down the hallway with utmost focus. Luigi follows their gaze. The hairs on the back of his neck rise.

At the end of the hall stands—err, floats—yet another Vitiate. They are a Koopa wearing armor from a time long passed. It reminds him of what the Koopatrol stationed at Bowser’s castle wear, only slightly more elaborate. They don’t appear to be carrying a weapon, but that offers little comfort; there, hovering at the entity’s side, is an old, worn book.

There’s no doubt about it, this must be the armored ghost Dane had told him about. But... where is Gooigi? Didn’t the kid say he was with the ghost when he last saw them?

‘They must not have appreciated Gooigi’s interference when they tried to capture the kid,’ Luigi thinks grimly. He sends a silent prayer to the Stars that his partner parted from the ghost in one piece.

“What’s with your dog?” Dane whispers, shielded from view by the open closet door. “Is there a ghost cat around here or something?”

Luigi shakes his head imperceptibly, not taking his eyes off the looming Vitiate. “We have company,” he quietly replies. “Get back in the closet. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come out. Pepper? I want you to go with the kid.”

Dane looks like he’s about to protest, but seems to think better of it and squeezes back into the closet with a final uncertain glance at the plumber. Luigi looks down at Pepper. The Polterpup continues to stare down the hallway, seemingly ignoring him. It isn’t until Dane wordlessly beckons to Pepper that the canine finally moves. Luigi watches them slink away into the closet, bewildered. He shakes his head as he closes the door behind them. He could worry about Pepper’s strange behavior later.

Luigi has barely taken his hand away from the door when he detects movement from the Vitiate. He whirls around, poised to attack or defend, should he need to. Luigi tenses as the dark entity slowly stalks toward him. No... not stalks. The ghost’s movements don’t resemble that of a predator. They are being cautious, Luigi realizes. They are as wary of him as he is of them.

The armored Vitiate halts a few paces away and regards him quietly. Luigi finds himself mirroring their silent scrutiny. It takes him an embarrassingly long moment to register that the Vitiate’s eyes are glowing red instead of white. Now, usually red eyes are indicative of something sinister—something to be wary of—but that’s not necessarily the case when dealing with these types of ghosts. In life, this had been no run-of-the-mill Koopa—they had been a Dark Koopa. Dark species thrive in, well, darkness, and not just literally. Negative energy does not affect them the way it does other species. This carries on into the afterlife, shielding them from potential corruption.

In other words, they aren’t completely nuts. This makes peace-talks considerably more viable.

“R̸ets͢am̡ ̧s’̢melog ͜e͘m̛ilş ͘e̷ht e̢b ͠ts̷um ùoy̵.” ⁴

Luigi blinks. Or... maybe not.

The Dark Koopa nods to itself. “Yn̵n͠a͠c̸nų ́s̡i͏ ec͜na͢lb̨m͏e͞ser͘ eht͢ …se͡y. E͠ga͘ḿi͏ ͡rúo̸y ni ̢m̢e͡ḩt͘ ̨e̶d̡am ͘y͏l̷r͏a͞èlc ̵o͝uy̴.”

“Uh...” Luigi says intelligently, “What?”

“E͏c͠na̢ra̛ep̀pa͝ ͝ŕuoy ̕d̵n̷o̡y̢e̴b̷ ̕s̵e̸įt̕i̡ral͞imi̢s ͜e͡r͝a͢hs ͟uoy ́ta͟ht ̕ees̸ I...” the ghost sighs. “Evi͞tąr̛e͝p̢oo̢c͜ e̡r͢om ̨èb̛ ̛lļiw͢ ̢uoy epoh̸ ͏y̢lno ̴ņa͡c̢ I.”

When Dane had told Luigi that the armored ghost talked strangely, he had assumed that the entity spoke with an accent or another dialect—perhaps a different language altogether. But this... the ghost sounds like the time he and Mario had played one of their records in reverse to see if there really were secret messages hidden in the lyrics. 

And the white knight is talking backwards...

…Backwards!

“That’s it!”

The armored Dark Koopa recoils slightly at his outburst, and Luigi is quick to placate them. “I think I have a way we can communicate. Hold on...” Luigi retrieves his phone and opens an audio recording application as the ghost watches on, perplexed. He holds the phone up, pointing the receiver toward the ghost. “If you speak into this, I can play it back in reverse and then I’ll be able to understand you!”

The Vitiate eyes his phone critically. They look back to Luigi, and even though he can’t see the entity’s face, Luigi gets the feeling they’re annoyed.

“Yr̀asse̢c̢e̴nn̸u ͘y̧l̷e͡r̷i͘tn̶e ̴s͏i͠ s͠ih̷t ͏t͞ub, ͝g͏n͟i͏k͏nih̵t reve͜lc ruo͏y ̛d͟nèmm͢o̸c̨ I̛,” they rumble. The ghost suddenly calls the floating spell book forth and opens it. They turn the open tome to Luigi and emphatically point to one of the passages. “Ka̕ęr̛b l͟l̴i̵w͝ ̵y͟aw ̀s͢ih͘t k̸a͞ep̛s͠ ͡o̢t̕ ̡em͟ ͡gnic̨r̢of ̢xeh̸ eh̶t̶ ͜d̴na͘ ,̀d͞uo͏ļa ͜s͏i͘ht ̸dae̵r͝.”

Luigi nearly trips backwards as the book is abruptly thrust in front of him. He can feel the blood drain from his face as he regards the book like one would a serpent poised to strike.

“Um...” he breathes shakily, “Magical books and I don’t really get along.” Luigi holds out the phone once more. “Look, I’m sure there’s a good reason you want me to perform magic, but I’d rather get a little context before I read from a book that was used to summon dark entities.”

The Vitiate growls angrily, but acquiesces despite their clear displeasure. Luigi breathes a sigh of relief as the spell book is called away from his personal space.

“Lĺe̕w͟ yr̷e̡v,” the ghost huffs. “Er͜u̧tan̷ ̛ỳm fo ͠ytįtne̢ na̕ ̀ni̶ ͏ht͝i̡af d͟ni̶ĺb eca͜lp̴ o̵t hsi̢lo̷of eb dlu̡o͡w ̨t̀i͠ es̴op̢p̡us ̸I̴. E̛t̷sa͟h ek̵a̛m t́ưb̶! ... tn̢emom͠ yn͘a ͜ta ̵rae̢pṕa ͞dl͡u̵o̸c̀ ͜ŗe͞ts͟a͢m ̢y̸m.”

Luigi doesn’t need to understand the Vitiate’s reply to pick up on their sense of urgency. He sets the phone to record audio and holds it up to the dark entity. “Okay, now tell me what spell you’re trying to get me to cast.”

“E͜sre̕ve͝r ͞ni ̴k̕a͞e̴ps ̢o̕t e̡m̕ ͜gn͜ic͢rof xeh͞ ́eḩt̶ ͡k͝a͢èr̨b̀ lliw ̀k̴oob ̨e̕ht͟ ́ņi ͘nóit̷at͝n͏a͢c͞ni ̵eh̕t. E͡ro̸m̀ g̸ni͟ht̕on͟.”

Luigi stops the recording and reverses the playback.

<< [“Nothing more. The incantation in the book will break the hex forcing me to speak in reverse.”] <<

Luigi hums thoughtfully. The two statements seemed to be out of order. Did the speech reversal go by sentence? How would the hex know where a statement begins and ends? Does the speaker have to already know what they’re going to say before they can talk?

Magic is weird. And complicated.

Luigi shrugs to himself. The plumber supposes he should be grateful that the hex’s reversal doesn’t go by word—that would make translation even more difficult. The audio still sounds a little off, but he at least can finally understand the ghost’s words. He starts a new recording. “Did you have my partner attempt to break the hex?”

“Kr͡ow t̴’n̢di̴d ti ̨os̸,̴ f͏fo saw̢ ̶n͡oit͞ai̶c̨n̴une͢ ̴şih͢ tu͘b, ͜s̢e̶y —” The Dark Koopa ghost stops suddenly, narrowing their eyes as they regard him. “...me̵l̀o̢g em̧ils ̡r͟uơy t̢em̵ I̵ wonk̵ ̴ųoy did͜ ̵w͘o̴h?”

<< [“How did you know I met your slime golem?”] << a pause << [“Yes, but his enunciation was off, so it didn’t work—”] <<

Luigi frowns marginally. Slime golem? That’s... an interesting way to describe his paranormal partner. “Dane, the kid that summoned you, told me he saw you two together. Speaking of which, where—”

“Hct̷e͟rw ͞t͢a͡ht ot͞ ne͘ko͏p̛s ͘e̡v͡’͟ùo͞y͜?!”

Luigi reels back, startled by the Vitiate’s ferocity. He wordlessly starts a new recording. “I... didn’t quite catch that, but I have a feeling your angry interruption has something to do with Dane?”

The ghost growls lowly. To Luigi’s growing unease, their head turns to the closet door just over his shoulder. “…écn̡e͝ser̸p͡ ̷ym̕ ̵d̢e͏cnuón̸n͘a t́i re͢tfa͡ m̵oo͏r ta͡h͠t͢ otn̛i͠ ͝ret̢s͟kc͝írt̷ ȩh̨t d̵e͘re̛h̨su ̶uo͏y.” The entity’s eyes narrow. “Eh͜ ͜t’͘n͜s͠i ̀,̴ereh̷t͝ ̕ni̸ g̨n͞id͘i͢h̀ ̕s’e̛h? D̨r̷awoç eht͝.”

Before Luigi can think to stop the recording and play it back, the subtle creak of a door hinge captures his attention. He pleads to the Stars that it’s Gooigi or another ghost exiting a nearby room, but his partner can’t open doors and somehow an angry specter seems too merciful in the given moment.

“Uh... Luigi? Did you call my name?” Luigi whips around at the voice, wide-eyed. Dane is peering at him from around the partially open closet door. “’Cuz I heard you say ‘Dane’, like, twice now.”

“Er̕a̷ ̸u̷o̶y ̡er̕ȩht!”

Luigi snaps his focus back to the Dark Koopa in time to see them conjure up an honest-to-stars battle axe. Their piercing red gaze is honed on the Doogan, and they look positively murderous. Luigi, perhaps foolishly, is quick to leap between them.

“Wait!” he shouts, hands raised, “I know you’re angry at the kid for bringing you here, but this isn’t the way to handle it!”

“Nam̕u̵h,̶ g̡nihto̡n ̶w͞onk̸ uoy͟!” The ghost snarls, cutting their hand through the air in a command to move. “Dl͡i̴h͏c ̶ęht́ re̛t̕f͜a ̷to͟n m̴’i̸! Ed͞is͢a p̕ȩt̶s̛, wo͠n̴!”

Too afraid to take his eyes off the furious entity, Luigi forgoes checking the audio and hastily stuffs his phone back into his pocket. Keeping one hand raised, he allows the other to drift back to hover over the Poltergust’s wand. “Hold on,” he pleads, “I’ll read from the spell book like you asked, and we can properly talk this out, okay?”

The ghost turns their gaze back to Dane. For a terrifying moment, it looks like they aren’t going to yield. Then, to Luigi’s relief (and no small amount of dread), the spell book is called forward once more. It opens as it comes to a stop in front of the plumber. A section of one of the pages brightens slightly with an ethereal glow.

“K̵c̕iuq́ eb̶.” Luigi looks up from the old tome. The ghost hasn’t taken their eyes off Dane. “Ŗeg͜no̸l tnemo̡m a̷ tiaw ͟t’́nt́s͜um͘ h͘tur̸t e̡h́t,̀ ͠e̶k̀a͏s̵ r̸ùoy͝ ̷r̡o͞f͢.”

“Luigi! What are you doing?!”

Luigi dares a glance over his shoulder at the trembling, partially hidden teen. “Kid, get back in the closet! Let me handle this.”

“But you can’t seriously be considering using that book, right?!” he cries. “After everything you’ve seen tonight?! That armored jerk is probably trying to trick you into summoning more ghosts!”

“Dane, I know you’re scared but—”

“U͡oy ̴tc͢a͜r̛t̢s̶ìd ͘ot g̛ni̧yr͡t ̛e͠ra’y̡eh̕t; d̨e͡èh͟ ̛on̛ ͢me͢ht̨ ya͘p.” The armored Dark Koopa gestures urgently at the book. “Ec͝n̕ah͝c̡ a eváh ll̕it̴s̨ e͘w ̧e͏l̢i͞h͞w wǫn͠ ́xe̕h ͠eht̸ ͏k͟aer͢b!”

“I don’t know what that thing just said, but don’t listen to ‘em! What if that spell curses you or something?!”

“E̵t̡ąti͘seh ̴u͡oy od̀ ́y͞h͜w?! G̷n͢il̢l̨ats ͢e͜r̛a ͡y͝e͝h͢t t͘a̶ht͏ ͘e͏e͏s̸ ̕t̷on ͠u̡oỳ na̴c —!”

“Maybe it did something to Gooigi!”

“Ru͠ç ͝u̷o͜y̕,͘ ̀e̡cn̢e̕l̸ìs͡!”

Before Luigi can react, the dark entity hurls their axe over his head with a furious snarl. Dane shrieks as the weapon sails past the door, inches from his face. Another axe quickly forms in the Vitiate’s hand. Luigi doesn’t give the ghost a chance to correct their aim. With practiced motion, the Poltergust’s wand is quickly swiped from its holster, and Luigi takes a familiar stance as the Strobulb charges. The Vitiate registers his movement and looks to Luigi right as the Strobulb flashes.

The ghost reels back with a cry. Ordinarily, this would be the part where Luigi activates the Poltergust’s intake, but... he hesitates. The dark entity shields their eyes and darts backwards, putting distance between them. As they retreat, the Vitiate blindly throws their axe in Dane’s approximate direction. It falls short of its target by a large margin, but the attempt is enough to scare the kid out of hiding.

“See?!” he shouts, scrambling to Luigi’s side, “That creep tried to kill me! I knew we couldn’t trust it!”

A white blur dashes from the closet, cutting off any retort Luigi may have had to Dane’s proclamation. It shoots past him and snatches the spell book, still floating before him, out of the air.

“Pepper?!” Luigi yelps, “What are you—?”

The Polterpup darts back the way he came before Luigi can finish. But instead of returning to the closet, the ghostly canine sprints to another door across the hall and barrels through it.

“Yeah! Pepper’s got the right idea!” Dane cheers, “Let’s split!”

A furious cry pulls both of their attention back to the Vitiate. They watch as a line of spear constructs materialize in front of the Dark Koopa. With a wave of the ghost’s hand, the spears align themselves so that their points are trained on the Doogan. Luigi takes note that the ghost has deigned to lower the visor of their helmet, rendering the Strobulb useless.

“...we’re boned,” Dane squeaks.

The Vitiate reels their hand back and quickly thrusts it forward, the spear constructs following suit. Dane takes off down the hall with a panicked scream, and Luigi quickly leaps between him and the oncoming attack. At the last possible moment, he activates the Burst function of the Poltergust. The constructs are blown away by the powerful gust. Before the Dark Koopa can summon more, Luigi levels a Suction Shot at their visor and fires. It hits its mark, sticking to the face plate and obscuring the ghost’s vision. As the latter struggles to remove the hinderance, Luigi turns to address his charge, only to find that the kid has already fled into the room where Pepper disappeared.

“Stars give me strength,” he mutters.

Fighting the urge to tear his hair out, Luigi quickly dashes through the open door and slams it shut behind him. The room he’s entered appears to be a bedroom, most likely for guests if the lack of personalization is anything to go by. Along the far wall are two large windows that overlook the side yard. Pepper paces beneath them, spell book still firmly clamped in his maw. Dane is standing in the middle of the room, staring at the plumber with wide eyes.

“What do we do now?” the teen asks, voice shaking. “We’re trapped.”

Luigi looks to the windows and back at Dane. “Do those windows open?”

Dane blinks slowly. “Uh... yeah, but—”

Luigi wordlessly passes the kid without waiting for him to finish. He hovers a hand over the glass of the nearest window, checking for traps. Finding none, he quickly flips the latches and, with slight difficulty, lifts the window open along its neglected tracks. There is a ledge below the window wide enough for them to stand on. He doesn’t immediately see an easy way to climb down, but it won’t prove to be a concern. He’ll have Pepper gently lower Dane to safety.

“Wait, you’re not seriously suggesting we climb out the window, are you?!”

“Not we,” he replies briskly, “you. I’m staying behind.”

“Huh?”

“I still have a job to do, and I need to get you somewhere safe,” Luigi nods to the window. “Climb out onto the ledge. You don’t have to worry about finding a way off the roof; Pepper will lower you down.”

“How can they—? Oh. Right. Ghost dog. They can float and stuff.” Dane steps over to the window, glancing back at the plumber. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

“I’ll be fine.” Luigi takes a knee in front of the Polterpup and extends a hand. “Here, Pepper, give me the book and help out the kid, okay?”

Pepper stares blankly at his hand. Then, to Luigi’s growing shock and frustration, the ghostly canine backs up in a clear refusal.

“Pepper, buddy, this isn’t the time for a game of keep-away,” he says, desperately trying to keep a level head. “Please give me the book and—”

A startled yelp from the teen abruptly draws Luigi’s focus away from the Polterpup. He turns and finds that Dane is gone.

“Dane?!” Luigi frantically rushes to the window. Did the kid fall?!

Before he can reach the windowsill, Pepper leaps past him and through the opening, spell book in tow. But, just as the ghostly canine passes over the window’s ledge, a familiar shimmer envelopes them, and they disappear.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Luigi whispers in disbelief. Apparently, the ghosts had been prepared for this. And if there’s a portal attached to this window, it’s likely the other windows are enchanted as well.

So much for an easy escape.

The hairs at the back of Luigi’s neck abruptly stand on end. He whirls around and has to bite back a scream when he comes face-to-face with the Dark Koopa Vitiate. Before he can react, the entity seizes him by the straps of his overalls.

“L̸o̸of̡ ͘g̀ni̶n̶aȩm͞-͟ĺle̕w͏ u͘oy̸, dnah ̷s̛’̢r͝e̵t̸s͡a̧m̕ ̡y͡m o͞tni ͞t̡hg̸i̷r gni̸yal̸p̴ ̵e̶r̕’uo̷y!” the Vitiate hisses. “Dnat͡sr̨e͡ḑn̴ư ̡u̵òy͟ eka͏m òt̨ ́e̢va̡h͠ ̶tsuj̷ l̀l’i̵, ne͜t̸s̛i͝l̀ t’̴no͏w͡ ̡uoy f͝i.”

The ghost lunges forward with a snarl, and Luigi feels a sharp chill shoot down his spine as he is pushed out the window. The next thing he knows, he is falling. It’s a very short distance, but Luigi is unprepared for the sudden drop and lands in an awkward heap.

“Luigi! Oh, thank Jaydes! I thought the ghosts found a way to separate us.”

Luigi looks up to find a very relieved Dane hovering over him. The teen smiles and offers Luigi a hand. He blinks dumbly at the appendage before slowly accepting the kid’s help.

“Thanks.” Luigi inspects his surroundings as he’s pulled to his feet. He’s dismayed to find they are back in one of the upstairs hallways. Fortunately, it’s not one occupied by an angry ghost.

But... why didn’t the Vitiate come through the portal as well?

“Well..." Dane says, breaking through Luigi’s stupor, “So much for that window of opportunity, eh?”

Luigi briefly closes his eyes and takes a deep, composing breath. He doesn’t know if that was an intended pun, but he refuses to comment on it either way.

“I should have known it wouldn’t be that simple,” he admits tiredly. “It rarely is.”

“In all fairness, I don’t know how you could have foreseen that our guest bedroom window would dump us out through a painting.”

At Luigi’s quizzical look, the teen points at a spot over his shoulder. He turns and is further exasperated when he spies the painting of the meadow.

“Actually, you’d be surprised how often I deal with painting portals in my line of work.” Luigi tentatively taps the canvas. Like with the staircase, it appears to be a one-way trip.

“Oh.” Dane eyes the painting with furrowed brows. “Do ghosts really like art or something?”

“…or something.” Luigi unconsciously frowns at the meadow painting. “Though I wouldn’t call it art.”

Dane says nothing. Luigi is suddenly uncomfortably aware that he had said that last part out loud. He cringes as he turns to find the teen staring at him. He begins to apologize, afraid that he may have offended them, when Dane cuts him off.

“Do… do ghosts have a thing for doors, too?”

That’s when Luigi realizes that Dane isn’t looking at him, but past him, down the hall. He follows Dane’s line of sight and must do a double take. The walls of the once-familiar hallway are lined to the brim with identical doors. Looking over Dane’s shoulder reveals the same sight.

“Not to this degree,” he answers distantly. “Those weren’t there a moment ago, were they?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but the teen shakes their head, confirming his belief. Luigi tiredly massages his temples. Things were only getting more complicated.

“Apparently the ghosts did not appreciate our escape attempt. They’re going to do all they can to make it difficult to try again.”

“What do we do now?”

“We find my partner.” Luigi looks to the Polterpup. He is quietly relieved to find that during his brief absence, the dog had relinquished their hold on the spell book. “Pepper, can you pick up Gooigi’s scent?”

The spirit canine lowers their snout to the ground and paces up and down the hall. They return to Luigi, whining dejectedly.

“Looks like we’re doing this the hard way,” Luigi sighs. “We’re going to have to check all the rooms.”

Dane looks at the plumber with wide eyes. “You mean we have to go through every single door?”

“Fortunately, no—most of them are fakes—but it’s still going to be pretty tedious.”

“Yeesh, no kidding.” Dane strides across the hall. “It would probably go faster if we each took a wall. How about I get this side of the hall and you get the other?”

“Ah... I don’t think that’s wise. There’s no telling what spells may have been placed on these doors. You could get hurt.”

The Doogan waves a hand dismissively as he approaches one of the doors. “I’m just gonna take a peek, is all. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Dane grabs the brass knob before he can respond. Luigi lunges, hand out-stretched in warning.

“Wait! That one is a—!"

The door swings open upon contact, slamming the teen harshly against the wall and pinning them in place. Pepper rushes over and begins futilely scratching at the paranormal trap. Dane’s muffled screams shock the plumber into action. He hastily retrieves the Poltergust’s wand, aims the nozzle at the door’s center, and activates the Suction Shot. Luigi yanks on the rope with one sharp tug, pulling the door off its hinges and shattering it into pieces. Dane collapses to the ground with a miserable groan. He blearily peers up at Luigi.

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?" he wheezes.

Luigi grimaces, offering the Doogan a hand up. “I find it’s best not to say things that can tempt fate."

Dane stands with Luigi’s help, eyeing the plumber curiously. “How did you know that door was a trap?”

“It’s... kind of a sixth sense I have.” ⁵ Luigi shrugs. “Look, I appreciate that you want to help, but in this case, it’s best if I’m the only one checking doors.”

Dane cringes, watching as the remains of the trap fade out of existence. “Hard lesson learned.”

“And,” Luigi continues, a tad sharply, “when I tell you to do something—or not to do something—I need you to listen. Do you understand?”

The Doogan straightens from their slouch, nodding at Luigi with wide eyes. “Oh. Yeah, no problem.”

“I’m serious,” he says firmly. “Your actions back there escalated a situation that may have been resolved peacefully had you stayed hidden like I told you.”

Dane shrinks in on himself at the plumber’s tone. “’m sorry...” he says, contrite.

Luigi sighs quietly. “Okay then.” He walks over to where Pepper had left the spell book and scoops it up. An alarmingly powerful urge to open the book washes over him. Luigi stares down at the cover, startled. Is this the book’s influence? Does everyone who touches it feel this way?

Maybe letting Pepper keep it isn’t such a bad idea...

“Hey, uh... I can carry that for you, if you want.”

Luigi tears his gaze away from the book and looks back at the kid. He hopes he doesn’t look as unnerved as he feels. “What?”

“You know, so you can have your hands free,” Dane mimes a boxer’s stance, “for beating up ghosts and stuff.”

A fistfight with a ghost would go rather poorly, Luigi thinks, but the teen has a point. He can’t sufficiently defend anyone with a book tucked under his arm. Still, the notion of handing over the spell book fills him with dread and an anger that doesn’t feel like his own. “Okay,” he says, “But you must promise me not to open the book unless I tell you too, understand?”

“Yes sir!” Dane offers a mock salute. “I read you loud and clear.”

Somehow this doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence, but Luigi relents. Every fiber of his being is screaming at him to keep the book, to open it—!

“Here.”

Dane accepts the tome with a nod and tucks it under an arm. Something desperately urges Luigi to take it back, but he quashes the command with placation. ‘It’s only temporary,’ he tells himself.

“You okay, man?”

Luigi gives himself a quick shake. Focus! “I’m fine,” he says, convincing no one. “Just... do you feel anything while holding that book?”

Dane frowns. He gives the old tome a thoughtful look. “Buyer’s remorse, mostly. Why, do you get weird vibes from it?”

Luigi mirrors his frown. “...among other things,” he says.

“Cryptic.”

Luigi shakes his head. “Never mind.” He quickly takes up the Poltergust’s wand and approaches the next door. “Let’s get started."

Chapter Text

[Earlier]

Gooigi really doesn’t like the second floor of this house.

For one, it feels awful. The unsuspecting ectomorph nearly lost form from the sharp change in energy after he stepped through that portal at the top of the stairs. For another, the hallway enchantment shtick was really getting old. He had given up on trying to find a pattern after he passed that meadow painting for the umpteenth time. Gooigi doesn’t know how a painting of a landscape could give off a smug aura, but it does and it’s mocking him and he doesn’t like it.

Also, the second floor’s carpet and drape scheme is ugly.

But the worst thing? The worst thing is the doors. They are all closed, and Gooigi and shut doors don’t get along.

The ectomorph didn’t accompany Luigi to the pool area because he knew he’d be useless there. He figured exploring the rest of the house would be a better use of his time. He could find the last kid, nab the remaining ghosts, and meet up with his partner after they’d dealt with their own watery specter. Divide and conquer, and all that.

He might as well have waited in the mud room for all the good he’s doing.

Gooigi stops in front of a door to his left and glares holes in the mullion. What is he supposed to do? Knock and hope a ghost lets him in? Maybe if he’s lucky, the missing kid will answer. Wouldn’t that be nice?

The ectomorph briefly considers using the Suction Shot to tear the door down, but decides to hold off on the idea. Luigi probably wouldn’t be very happy if he went around destroying their clients’ property if it was avoidable. The ectomorph leans in, pressing their body to the door and listening for any signs of (after) life on the other side. Nothing. For kicks, he gives knocking a try and listens again. Still nothing.

Gooigi takes a step back and looks at the doorknob. Deep down, he knows it’s futile, but he can’t resist the urge to try opening the door anyway. The knob twists imperceptibly in his grasp. For a moment, Gooigi thinks he may actually succeed.

That hope slips through his fingers along with the doorknob.

Gooigi drops his head against the door with a quiet splat. He gurgles in frustration. This isn’t a new struggle by any means, but it’s no less infuriating.

‘Dinosaurs can open doors, but I can’t,’ the ectomorph thinks sourly. ‘What does that say about me?’ ¹

‘That was a movie, Gooigi,’ his inner Luigi retorts. ‘Stop comparing yourself to outdated fictional portrayals of prehistoric animals.’

‘It was accurate for the time!’ 

‘Gooigi, they weren’t even calling some of the dinosaurs by the right names.’

‘…still a good movie.’

Inner Luigi doesn’t argue.

Gooigi is considering tearing the door down anyway when he detects movement in his peripheral. He turns and is startled back into high alert when he spies a ghost emerging from a nearby room. They are looking down the other end of the hall, as if searching for something. Before Gooigi can decide whether to hide or launch a surprise attack, the entity turns and spots him.

The ghost appears to be a Koopa adorned in old armor, and their shadowy form betrays their nature as an entity that subsists on negative energy. They’re a Vitiate, like the others, and pose a great potential threat. But when Gooigi takes note of their eyes, he feels himself relaxing minutely—they're glowing red.

The ectomorph thinks back to one of the many mnemonic devices the professor had drilled into his head.

Glowing white, prepare to fight.

Glowing red, talk instead.

Or... something like that. Luigi had cautioned him not to accept the phrase as law—there were always exceptions.

With all this in mind, Gooigi offers the ghost a cheerful little wave. “Hello!” ²

The Vitiate tilts their head minutely at his garbled greeting. Then, cautiously, they glide down the hallway, coming to a stop a few arm lengths away. When they don’t immediately attack, Gooigi dares to feel hopeful. He might just be able to reach a peaceful agreement with this entity, too, and that’ll put him and Luigi at 2 – 0 in successful negotiations for this mission. Even if Luigi manages to placate the water ghost, he’ll still have a one-point lead. Not that anyone is keeping score, or anything.

“U͝ǫý e͟ra̷ ǫh́w͝? E̢v̢r̀es̷ ́u͞oy̴ ͟od r̢e͞tsa͟m t̀a̡h͏w?” ³

Gooigi stares blankly at the ghost. Perhaps this isn’t going to be as easy as he had hoped.

“Uh… what?”

The ghost has the gall to look annoyed. It’s not Gooigi’s fault that they were speaking gibberish!

“Et̕a͢ts ͝tn̶eŕr͡uc ym͞ ni͏,͏ e͢m ḑn͟a̕ts͞r̕e̶dn̷u ̨ot ̕uo͢y d̵et̶cep̶xe ev̶a̡h t͢’̡n͞ah̡s̶ ͘Į, esr͡uoc͡ f͘o.” The Vitiate murmurs, seemingly to themselves. “Ti͡a̸w nac͝ ̶śn̸oít͏cu̸do͢rtn̸i rep̧o͘rp, ͟re̷tt̴am̶ ̕on. E͝su fǫ eb͢ n͘a̵c ưoy̡ s͝pahre͡p os,͘ uo͘y͘ tu̶ob͠a ͏cigam͠ ̕s’̡ręts̵a̕m y͟m ́tcet̢èd́ t̕on o͡d͢ I.”

“…okay. Well, my name is Gooigi and, um…” Gooigi sighs, switching to his preferred method of communication. “Any chance you know sign language?”

The ghost reels back with a hiss, watching his hands with apprehension.“Gn͡i̢od ̨uoy e̶r͢a tàhw? Yrecr͟os fo ͡ȩp̧y̵t em̷o̧s s̛i̶ht̕ si?”

Gooigi takes a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. “Whoa! It’s okay! This—" he slowly spells out his name as a demonstration, “—is how I talk.”

The dark entity relaxes minutely.“Sd̴n̷ah̶ ͡ǹi kąe̴p̵s uoy͝?” they drift a little closer, “Ti͢ nees̡ r̨e͠v̢e ͠ev’̛i e̵mit ̡tsri̶f͢ ̧e̵h͠t̵ ̀s̶i síht tub, ńoita͞c̸i͏n͜um̧moc f̢o̵ mro̕f̡ ͟şi͢ht̛ ̕f̛o draeh ̶e͢v̸ah̶ ̸I.” The ghost looks down at their own hands.“S͢u̡o͠iru͟c. X͟e͟h s̵iht ̧yb ̶de͝tce̡ffa̷ èb̶ d̛l̷uow̨ ̷k͝a͞eps ̴dn͞a͝h ̛f̀i re͏d͝now̵ I̕...”

Gooigi is at a loss. This ghost doesn’t know sign language and they talk like a weirdo. At the very least, they seem to understand Gooigi when he speaks out loud, but talking isn’t exactly the ectomorph’s strong suit, and it takes a lot out of him, so... Yeah. Not the most ideal of situations.

Maybe the ghost knows charades?

“Tna̢v͘ele͘rri̴ s’͢t͢i eşop̶p̢úś I,” the ghost sighs. “Xe̛h͡ ̸s͘iht ͜ka͘e͟r͢b t͝o̴n͟na̵c kae̷ps̀ d̛nah͟. K̕roẃ ot̡ cig͟am sih̴t ̡rof yl̡b̸i͝dua ͡k̵ae͏ps̸ ̡ot ̨uoý deen͏ l͟ĺi͏w ̢I.”

Gooigi, more focused on figuring out a way to explain the concept of charades to a dark entity, almost misses them reaching for something. There’s a shift, movement, and a thick, well-worn tome drifts out from behind the armored Dark Koopa. Gooigi freezes, and a spike of unease surges through him. He can’t say for sure, not knowing exactly what it looks like, but the ectomorph is willing to bet this is the spell book Luigi had told him about—the one the kids had used to summon all these ghosts. There’s no telling what other dangerous spells this book might contain. Does the Vitiate intend to use it on him?

To Gooigi’s relief, and growing confusion, the Vitiate doesn’t begin flipping through the pages in search of a deadly incantation. Instead, they open the book, turn it, and gently nudge it toward the ectomorph. The book drifts to a stop before him, just close enough that he can make out the words on the pages. Gooigi doesn’t dare attempt to grab the tome; he and paper don’t get along, either.

Gooigi looks from the open tome to the expectant gaze of the armored Koopa. “You… want me to read?” he asks.

The ghost nods. They point to a passage on one of the pages, and the words begin to glow softly. Wow, they even highlighted it for him. How thoughtful.

“Why?”

The Vitiate’s eyes narrow at him. Gooigi attempts to mirror their glare with admirable effort. It was a fair question!

His ghostly companion finally relents (no one beats Gooigi in a stare-down). They tilt their head back and point at their throat. “Yaw ͏s̢i̡ht̴ k̡a͞e͏ps ot̡ ̕em͏ ͜gnicr̕o͏f̷ xe̷h e̡ht͞ ̴kae̛rb ͜ll̨iw͟ llep̢s̀ eht͞.”

Gooigi hums thoughtfully. Either the ghost has a sore throat, or this has something to do with the weird way they talked. The ectomorph is going to go out on a limb and assume the dark entity wouldn’t invoke magic for something that could easily be fixed with a cough drop.

He stares down at the spell book and its highlighted passage. Luigi and the professor said that magic was dangerous, especially if you weren’t experienced with it. He’s not supposed to try this kind of thing without a professional to supervise. Would the Vitiate count as a professional? Probably not. It’s only a spell about helping the ghost talk normally or whatever. It couldn’t be that dangerous, right?

If the ghost is telling the truth, anyway. Gooigi doesn’t recognize the language the spell is written in. For all he knows, this is for summoning eldritch monsters (or lighting gullible ectomorphs on fire).

Gooigi shrugs to himself. Eh, sometimes you have to take a leap of faith.

"Okay, I’ll help,” he says at last. Gooigi pauses. “I’ll try,” he amends, “Talking is… hard.”

The ghost nods imperceptibly. They anxiously glance up and down the hall as Gooigi begins to read, seemingly keeping watch—for what, he doesn’t know. Gooigi trips and fumbles his way through the most complicated paragraph he’s ever had the displeasure of reading. Nothing happens after he finishes, so he tries twice more, just in case. He can’t tell if he does better or worse with each attempt. Eventually, the ectomorph must concede defeat.

“Sorry…”

The Vitiate makes a frustrated sound, akin to a growl, but to Gooigi’s relief, they don’t lash out. “Er̛ef̡r͢etni̵ t̴’ņdid͜ ͢r̸e̶t̕sa͘m ym̨ ͠t͟àh͡t ͡s̛uo̧tiu̡t̛ŕo͝f ơot ͘s͝aw̷ ti̴ t͞h̴gu͟o͢ht̷ ̴dah ̡I. S̷noi̛t̨a̸t͢imil l͡aćov ̡ru̶oy fo̷ węn͏k ̕éh ̵sp̷ah̷rep̶...”

Is the ghost belittling him or placating him? Gooigi decides to pretend it’s the latter. “It’s okay! My friend can help!”

“D̴n͡eir͢f̵?” the ghost murmurs.

“My partner is here,” he says, “We find him, he can read. He has a mouth!”

The dark entity regards him strangely, which is fair, given Gooigi’s choice of words. Still, the ectomorph isn’t discouraged.

“But first,” Gooigi continues, “I need to find a kid. Have you seen them?”

The garbled words are barely out before the Vitiate reels back with a snarl. Gooigi raises their hands placatingly, startled by their response.

“Is that a ‘yes’? Or do you not like kids?”

The Vitiate glares at him. Ah. Right. He should stick to ‘yes or no’ questions (and avoid dumb ones, honestly).

“T̀i ͠s̷lliw̷ re͝t̨s͠a̶m͜ d͞e͘hc̡t̴er̷w ̷y̵m s͘sel̶n͟u ͡y̛ob ̵ta̡ht ̵dni͢f͞ ̨ton ͠lli̧w͏ uơy,” the ghost hisses.“N̛ac̛ ͢ll̸i̧ts̴ eh ̵e̷l͘i͡h͟w ͢ec̶al͘p ͘s͜i͜ht ̡sèv̸aęl͡ e̴h ̡tah̷t̡ s͢e̕kas ruoy fo͏ ͟h͟t̸ob ̕ŗo̕f ͜yarp͝ I,̛ t̴seret̶n͜į ̀s͞’re̵t̛sam ͘y͞m͜ de̕rut͠ṕa̸c ͜sa̧h̸ ͏taht́ n̴amu̕h̸ ͝ehţ si̢ eh ̛f͠i, ̷’ren̛t̴r̷a͡p̸‘ r͟uǫy̧ ̡r̵o͜f ̧s͝a.”

That... somehow sounded super ominous and important. Call it a gut feeling. Would the ghost get annoyed if he asked them to repeat that in a game of charades?

A sharp gasp from down the hall steals Gooigi’s attention. He turns around and is both surprised and elated to see what appears to be an adolescent Doogan. They are standing at the end of the hall, having just stepped through the enchanted intersection. The kid is staring at the two paranormal entities with eyes wide and mouth agape. He kind of reminds Gooigi of a ghost that had just been hit with the mother of all Strobulb flashes.

What was the saying? Speak of Jaydes, and she will appear? (Is that why mortals refuse to say her name? Ridiculous. Jaydes is an absolute delight to be around.)  

Whatever the case, his luck is finally turning around. Gooigi tilts his head in the approximation of a smile and offers the kid a friendly wave. “Hello!”

The Doogan promptly screams.

Now, Gooigi is used to this type of reaction (the same thing had happened when he first met Luigi), so he isn’t deterred by it. He raises both hands placatingly, but before he can try and calm the kid down, they’re pulling something out of their pocket and brandishing it like a weapon.

Is... is that an onion?

“Stay back, monster!” the teen shrieks.

Gooigi complies for the moment, but not out of any concern for the Doogan’s bizarre arsenal. Seriously, what’s with the onion?

“Why do you have an onion in your pocket?”

“For situations just like this one! Everyone knows the living dead hate onions,” the kid says with the confidence of an idiot. “As long as I have this, you can’t touch me.”

…this has to be a joke, right? There’s no way someone is this confidently wrong. Gooigi doesn’t even know where to begin addressing the blatant misinformation, so for the sake of his own sanity, he decides not to acknowledge it.

“Kid, I’m not going hurt you,” he signs, taking a cautious step forward. “I’m here to save you from—”

“Save me?” the Doogan laughs incredulously, “You think I’d fall for that just because you sort of look like Luigi?” he points at something past the ectomorph with his free hand, “Your evil boss is right there!”

Gooigi follows the kid’s line of sight and winces internally as his gaze lands on the (weirdly quiet) Vitiate. Okay, standing next to one of the ghosts that’s been terrorizing the kid and his friends is definitely not a good look. It doesn’t help that the spell book is still open and floating in plain view.

“...I’ll admit, this looks bad,” Gooigi concedes, “but you’ve got it all wrong. The ghost and I have just been trying to work things out—”

“Uh-uh!” the Doogan interjects, “No way am I listening to you! You’re just trying to trick me!”

Gooigi sighs, daring to take a few steps closer. “Please, just give me a chance to explain—”

“I said stay back! Don’t make me use this!” the Doogan shakes their onion with emphasis.

“Oh no, a smelly, tear-jerking vegetable; I better go crawl back into my crypt.” Gooigi acknowledges that snarking a terrified teenager probably isn’t the best approach, but he can’t seem to rein in the sass when faced with the ridiculousness of the situation.

The kid does not respond to Gooigi’s sarcastic quip, and it takes the ectomorph a moment to realize he isn’t even looking at him anymore. He is staring past him with growing horror and confusion.

“H-hey, where’d your boss go?”

“They’re not my—!” Gooigi freezes. Wait... what? He quickly turns. The armored Koopa Vitiate is gone, and so is the book.

A panicked shriek pulls Gooigi’s attention back to the Doogan. He whirls around and is horrified to find the kid in the ghost’s grasp. Apparently, while the kid had been focused on Gooigi, the Vitiate had turned invisible and crept up on him, grabbing him from behind (is this ghost part Slinker?). They have one arm wrapped around the Doogan’s throat, and the other is keeping one of his arms pinned to his side. If the situation weren’t so dire, Gooigi would have found it amusing that his free arm is the one clutching the onion.

“No! Let me go!” the kid yowls, thrashing desperately in the ghost’s grip, “I’m sorry for calling you evil! Please don’t hurt me!”

“Nw̕od ͟draug r͡uoy̵ t̸eļ ̀ot, ͝uo͘y͢ f̀o ̡sselèr̷ac w̨oh,” the dark entity hisses, “Wo̧n dn͞a͟ er̨eh ͘sdn͏e s̨ih͜t!”

Gooigi finally snaps out of his shock. He sprints toward the kid and their ghostly captor, waving his arms frantically to get the latter’s attention. “Wait! Stop!”

The Vitiate pays him no mind. Their hold on the Doogan only tightens, and the kid’s struggling devolves into intense shivering. “C-cold! Why is it s-s-so c-cold?”

“Please! Stop!” Gooigi pleads, increasingly more desperate, “Let the kid go!”

“M͠elo̸g͏ èm̕il͞s̛,͢ ȩc̶nel̕i̴s͠!” the dark entity growls, keeping their eyes firmly on the Doogan, “N͜o̢iţart͘n̛e͡c̡no͏c͢ ̴l̢l̢u̶f y̶m ͝s̀e̶r̷iuqe̵r͠ síht̀, ̷nop͠ąeẁ ͠a fo ̕dia̷ e͡ht͜ ̕tu͢o̧ht̕íw.”

‘I don’t know what you’re saying!’ Gooigi wants to scream. If he had hair, he’d be tearing it out. Why, oh why couldn’t he have gotten that stupid spell to work?!

The kid abruptly goes stiff. His mouth hangs open, and his wide eyes stare vacantly into the middle distance. With growing horror, Gooigi notices that the Vitiate’s arms have begun to slowly phase into the Doogan’s body. What is the ghost trying to do?! Is this what possession looks like? Gooigi isn’t about to wait and find out.

The time for talking has ended.

Gooigi quickly weighs his options. Startle the ghost with the Strobulb? No, he’ll be blinding the kid, too. Blast the ghost away with the Burst function? No, as tightly as they’re holding onto the kid, he’ll be brought along for the ride. Skip straight to the vacuuming action? The ghost would probably just clamp down harder. That just leaves...

The ectomorph silently preps the Suction Shot. His distracted adversary’s head is just visible over the kid’s shoulder. If he aims carefully, he should be able to obscure the ghost’s vision with the cup of the plunger. Hopefully, that will startle them enough to let go.

Gooigi takes aim, and fires.

The plunger hits its mark. Startled, the ghost relinquishes their hold on the kid and immediately claws at the obstruction. The Doogan collapses to the floor with a gasp. Gooigi darts forward as the teen shakily rises to their hands and knees.

“You okay?” he warbles, reaching out to offer the kid a hand.

The Doogan looks up, wild-eyed, and leaps to their feet with a shriek. They throw the onion at Gooigi in a panic and bolt down the hallway. The vegetable bounces harmlessly off Gooigi and lands at his feet. He stares down at it in dumb silence while the Doogan makes their getaway. ⁴

Huh. Gooigi has to give the kid credit; the onion certainly gave him pause.

“On͡!̡ Ep͢a̵cse̸ me̶ht̸ ́t̢el ͠t̀’̶n͟o͝ḑ!”

The Dark Koopa nearly bowls Gooigi over as they barrel past him. The time allotted to him by the Suction Shot is apparently up. Gooigi scrambles to recover and quickly pursues the angry Vitiate. The Doogan dares a glance over his shoulder and yelps at the rapidly gaining duo. With a desperate burst of speed, he sprints through the intersection at the end of the hall and disappears into the enchantment’s tell-tale shimmer.

The Vitiate halts before the invisible barrier can claim them as well. Gooigi moves to go around them, but the dark entity seizes the ectomorph by the arm. To Gooigi’s shock, he doesn’t just slip through the Vitiate’s grip like he would with anyone else. He is held firmly, as if he isn’t a semi-solid being, and Gooigi distantly wonders if it has anything to do with them both being ectoplasmic entities. Then, with a furious snarl, the ghost turns and throws him to the ground.

Rude.

“Lo͝of ̨u̷o̸y! Enǫd̸ ́e̸v’̷uoy ̷t͝ahw͡ ̷a͞ed͢i y̡n̡a͟ ͡e̵va̛h u͢oy ̴od́?!” The Dark Koopa howls.“Me̛ht̷ d͠a̸h̸ ts̢òml͞a Í! Si̸ht̢ d͟edn͢e eva̧h dlu͜oc̨ e͝w!”

Gooigi doesn’t have to understand the ghost to know they are chewing him out. He knows a reprimand when he hears one.

“Y̧lla ͞na eb̨ d̨l̡u͠o̡c ̷u̵o͢y d̨ep͠oh͘ dah̶ ́I,” the Vitiate grumbles, “ytįli͝baìl̷ ̷a͜ na̷h̶t ̸er̴om͢ ǵn̸i͠hton ͝er’̨ùo̶y͟ s̴me̷es͏ ti ͘tub́.” They turn away. “P͟a̡rt ́s͏’r̛e̢tsa̛m ym̛ sr̕e̢tnȩ n̵am͘uh ̷r̨u͝o̴y͏ er͡of̛e̢b em͢i̡t fo ̡re̸ttam ͠a yl͘ņo s͞i͞ ţi̢ ràef͡ I. T̶sr̶i̡f mih ͜dn͡if̵ ͞lliw ̶I͜, ̷y͜k͟c͠ul ̶si ͡eh ͝f͏i͠.” Without a glance his way, they drift toward the intersection. “E̴v́it͠pec̕rep̕ erom ̕şi e͞h͝ ͡y̡ar̵p ͝I̵.” ⁵

And with that, the armored Dark Koopa is gone.

Gooigi stares quietly at where the dark entity disappeared. That last spiel had the same energy as one of Luigi’s “I’m not angry, just disappointed” lectures. He can handle angry ghosts well enough, but disappointed ones? That was new. And, somehow, worse.

Gooigi gets to his feet with a sigh, feeling every bit like a scolded child. He wordlessly steps through the enchanted intersection and finds himself in another hallway. The ectomorph is disappointed (but not surprised) that the kid is nowhere in sight. He is less disappointed that the Dark Koopa is also absent.

Why does he feel so guilty? That ghost was doing some weird, spooky stuff to the kid. Gooigi was just trying to protect him! He didn’t do anything wrong!

...right?

Gooigi doesn’t let himself dwell on it. He continues his trek through the halls, hoping to get lucky and run into the fleeing teenager. His persistence eventually rewards him, though not with the kid, but a lead as to where they may have gone. The enchantment has now dropped Gooigi into a hall with a dead end, and about halfway down, is an open door. The Doogan must have ducked into that room and forgot to close it behind them in their haste. Gooigi’s not complaining though.

The ectomorph quietly approaches the door, considering what he can say to the kid to convince them he’s on their side. He steps past the threshold, hands up and ready to make another attempt to placate. To his surprise, the door isn’t to a bedroom, but a staircase. He follows the steps upward with his eyes. Where does this lead? The attic?

The door abruptly slams behind him, and it is at that moment that Gooigi realizes he just walked into a trap.

Of course it’s a trap. After multiple failures in a row, why would his luck suddenly be any better?

Gooigi sighs and prepares to use the Poltergust’s Suction Shot on the door. He hesitates. He glances over his shoulder, back at the staircase. It’s probably not the wisest choice, but Gooigi can’t deny that he’s curious as to what may be at the top of those steps. It could be nothing, and Gooigi had just been lured to this particular door at random, but the ectomorph has come to learn that when dealing with the paranormal, there are few coincidences. There must be a reason the ghosts trapped him here of all places.

Gooigi cautiously ascends the stairs, Poltergust at the ready. When he reaches the top, he quickly steps off to the side—he's been pushed down staircases too much not to be paranoid—and scans the area for ghosts. Finding none, he begins to explore.

It’s an attic, as he suspected. There are boxes and miscellaneous items covered with dusty sheets lining the walls—standard stuff. What isn’t standard, is what lies in the middle of the room.

A large, intricate magic circle has been drawn onto the floor. It is surrounded by a ring of candles dripping with melted wax. The candle’s wicks are still lit, but instead of a warm orange, the flames glow a ghostly lilac.

‘This must be where the kids summoned the ghosts,’ Gooigi thinks.

He dares to get closer to the circle, scrutinizing it carefully. Gooigi is no expert in magic, but this doesn’t look like the type of arrangement you’d need for a simple séance. Stars, just what kind of magic did these kids mess with?

Luigi might know what this is. And if he doesn’t, hopefully he had the foresight to pack E. Gadd’s latest invention to help identify it. The ectomorph turns, intending to go back down the stairs and bust down the door, but is stopped by another presence. There, blocking the staircase, is a Clubba Vitiate.

Gooigi immediately notes that the ghost’s eyes aren’t red, which doesn’t bode well, but that doesn’t mean they’re a guaranteed hostile. After all, the Snifit had white eyes and Gooigi had managed to make peace with them.

They also hadn’t been as far gone as the other Vitiates, but that’s beside the point.

Gooigi waves cheerfully at the Clubba, undeterred. “Hello!”

The rotund ghost stares quietly back at him. For a moment, Gooigi thinks they might be open to a friendly chat. Ominous leering isn’t necessarily a sign of aggression, right? Maybe they’re just shy.

The Clubba ghost starts to growl, and before Gooigi knows it, the dark entity is growing and shifting into a grotesque parody of itself. Gooigi takes several steps back, readying his Poltergust.

“Uh-oh.”

[Now]

Luigi, Dane, and Pepper slowly make their way up and down the various hallways. Luigi pauses before each door, sensing for traps and destroying them accordingly. Only a few of the doors they’ve come across so far were a part of the original floor plan, and none of the rooms beyond showed signs of Gooigi or the remaining ghosts. At first, the trio search in silence—Luigi being focused on the task at hand, and Dane seemingly cowed from his admonishing—but after an uneventful stretch of time, the kid begins to fill in the quiet with questions.

“So, what’s with the fancy vacuum? I’ve never seen one with a flashlight attachment.” Dane watches as Luigi destroys yet another trap door with the Suction Shot. “Or shoot toilet plungers, for that matter.”

Luigi, for some unexplainable reason, finds it difficult to respond. His brows furrow. It was an innocent question with a simple enough answer, so where was this hesitation coming from?

“This,” Luigi says at last, brandishing the Poltergust’s wand, “is the Poltergust G-00-EG—” Patent pending. “—the latest Poltergust model and most advanced piece of ghost capturing technology in all the known kingdoms.” ⁶

Dane hums appreciatively. “A bit of a mouthful, but as far as puns go, ‘Poltergust’ is unquestionably ‘S’ tier.”

Luigi smiles, remembering how giddy E. Gadd had been when he first introduced the Poltergust all those years ago. He’d be delighted to know that someone else appreciated his “naming genius.”

“Is that where the ghosts go when you catch ‘em?” Dane asks, pointing to the clear canister on Luigi’s back.

“No, that’s for Gooigi.”

Dane’s eyes widen. “You store Jelly Joe in a jar?”

Jelly Joe? Luigi’s adding that one to the list. “The canister is for protection and recovery, not storage.”

“Protection from what?”

The inexplicable hesitation from before returns, stronger this time. Luigi frowns. He clears his throat, jaw spasming minutely as he opens his mouth to answer.

“Water, mostly,” Luigi replies, ignoring the strange surge of annoyance that follows. “And if he is hurt badly enough that he can’t maintain form, the Poltergust automatically collects his physical body until he’s able to recover.”

“Oooo neat.” Dane leans over to better scrutinize the Poltergust. “How does he get out?”

“There’s a sensor at the bottom of the canister that Gooigi can trigger when he’s ready.” Luigi frowns to himself. “But that’s been acting up lately, so I’ve been having to release him manually.”

Luigi pauses at the next door, not detecting a trap or malevolent energy. He gestures for Dane to step back and opens it to find another hallway identical to theirs. He quirks a brow before cautiously leaning out the door. When he looks to his left, Luigi is bewildered to see Dane, Pepper, and himself several doors down. His “doppelgänger” is also leaning through a doorway. Luigi withdraws and looks to his right to see an open door down the hall—the exit point of the portal. 

“Whoa, that’s trippy!” Dane runs down the hall before Luigi can protest and stops in front of the other door. Sure enough, they are now standing before the plumber in the threshold.

Luigi patiently has the Doogan step through the door so they are once more at his side. Luigi closes the door and locks it with his magic skeleton key.

“Oh cool! A skeleton key! I’ve never seen one in person before.” Dane leans in curiously. “But why are you locking the door with it?”

“I’m breaking the enchantment so I can safely dispose of the door.”

Luigi tears the door down. Sure enough, the door it had been connected to down the hall also disappears. Luigi destroys a few more trap doors before coming to another one free of malevolent energy.

A wall of steam pours over the threshold and curls around the plumber and his companions. When it clears, Luigi finds he is standing before a bathroom. The floor is checkered with pale blue tile, the rest of the room adorned in complimentary shades. Across from the trio is an old, claw-footed tub with a shower curtain drawn tightly around it. The curvy silhouette of a woman can be seen beyond the cloth, her jovial humming mingling pleasantly with the gentle patter of water from the shower head.   

Luigi quickly retreats, absently throwing a hand over the teen’s eyes (the latter squawking indignantly) as he shuts the door behind him. 

What was up with ghosts and shower hauntings?

“That, uh..." Dane trails off, sounding a little mortified. “That wasn’t one of our bathrooms.”

Luigi sags minutely with relief. It’s another portal door, meaning he doesn’t need to confront whatever is on that side of the threshold. He locks the door and destroys it as well.

The neighboring door also lacks the negative energy indicative of a trap. With great trepidation, Luigi grasps the worn brass knob and pulls. A warm, foul-smelling gust of air billows from the room. It is completely dark, but the plumber can hear what sounds like deep breathing coming from its depths. He warily pulls out his flashlight and turns it on. A narrow, maroon tunnel spans before him, sprawling further and further until its end is concealed in shadow. The walls glisten with a slimy substance, and the ceiling and floor are lined with rows of odd, off-white stalactites and stalagmites—

Wait.

Luigi slams the door, wide-eyed.

Dane stares at the hastily shut door, equally alarmed. “...horrifying."  

Luigi silently agrees. He wastes no time locking the door and destroying it. Dane studies the now vacant spot with open wariness.

“So... what do we do if something other than a ghost manages to get through these doors?” Dane glances at the Poltergust. “Does that work on monsters, too?”

Luigi clenches his jaw against the urge to snap at the kid. It’s a fair concern to address, given what they just witnessed, so the subsequent spike in irritation seems rather unwarranted. Why does he feel so agitated?

“It can’t capture them if that’s what you mean,” he says. At the teen’s nervous look, Luigi quickly tries to assure them. “But you don’t need to worry about that, Dane. I was fighting monsters well before I was fighting ghosts.”

And yet, he is still afraid of the former. Even after all these years.

Dane doesn’t reply to his platitude, so Luigi isn’t certain if he succeeded in putting the kid at ease. They continue on in silence. Luigi destroys two more trap doors before they arrive at one lacking malevolent energy. He warily takes hold of the doorknob, sending a silent prayer to the Stars that it isn’t another portal. He grimaces as he thinks of the last one.

“You might want to stand off to the side a bit,” Luigi tells Dane. “Just in case.”

Dane’s face scrunches up, likely also remembering the previous portal. “Good idea.”

The Doogan moves down the hall a few paces. Pepper trots dutifully after him.

“In hindsight,” Luigi adds, easing open the door, “I probably should have had you doing that in the first—”

Luigi cuts himself off with a surprised yelp. There, standing in the doorway, is the armored Koopa Vitiate. Luigi leaps back, falling into a defensive stance with the Poltergust at the ready, but the ghost doesn’t go on the attack. In fact, they react similarly to Luigi. With equal speed, the ghost puts distance between them, posed to attack or defend as needed. They regard each other quietly. Neither appear eager to make the first move.

“…Luigi?” Dane whispers, near inaudibly. “What’s wrong?”

Luigi tenses, fully expecting Dane’s voice to send the ghost into another frenzy, but they don’t show any reaction. Either they didn’t hear the kid, or they don’t care enough about his presence to engage in another fight. They seem to have calmed considerably since their earlier encounter. Perhaps now they can try and settle matters diplomatically.  

“We don’t need to fight,” Luigi says after a beat. “I have the spell book. Show me what I need to read to break your hex, and we can talk this out. Okay?”

The Dark Koopa watches him in silent scrutiny, but otherwise says nothing in response to his offer. Luigi isn’t discouraged. Something like relief is radiating from the armored Koopa; relief and a sense of urgency so strong, Luigi feels it as if it’s his own. This is confirmation enough.

Luigi turns his head slightly towards Dane, keeping the ghost in his peripheral. “Dane, I need you to bring me the spell book.”

The teen’s eyes widen, darting from Luigi to the doorway. From his spot in the hall, the open door is shielding the ghost from view—a near perfect replica of their prior meeting, only with reversed roles.

“Is that who I think it is…?” Dane whispers.

Luigi nods sharply. “I know they scared you before, but you need to trust me on this. Remember what we talked about…”

The Doogan winces, likely recalling his reprimand. He nods to himself as he carefully makes his way over. Pepper matches the kid’s cautious stride.

Luigi spares the Dark Koopa a brief glance. Their head is also turned in Dane’s direction, perhaps listening to his timid approach. Luigi opens the door wider to make room for his two companions. He holds out his hand with remarkable patience as they draw near. Pepper and Dane step into view of the armored Koopa.

A sharp crack! cuts through the tense silence, startling Luigi into high alert. He turns back to the dark entity, anticipating an attack, but is shocked to find a kaleidoscope of jagged shapes in their place. Harsh lines spiderweb out from a seemingly arbitrary focal point and end at the doorway’s framing. It takes Luigi an embarrassingly long moment to realize he’s looking at a shattered mirror.

“Uh…” Dane begins uncertainly. “Where’s the armored ghost? All I see is our reflection.”

Luigi turns to Dane, confused by their calm reaction to the mirror’s loud and rather sudden destruction. When Luigi turns back to the mirror, he is bewildered to find it completely intact. Dane is currently looking between his and Luigi’s haggard reflection. Luigi quirks a brow, frowning at his own disheveled appearance. His damp clothes are torn in a few places and sag uncomfortably on his frame. There’s a minor scrape on his cheek that he doesn’t recall getting, and he distantly wonders which of the ghosts was responsible for it. He turns his gaze downward to gauge Pepper’s reaction to the mirror, but the pup is no longer beside them. The Polterpup is back where he and Dane had been waiting off to the side, only now they are watching the doorway with wide eyes.

“I… I don’t know,” Luigi says helplessly. “This mirror wasn’t here earlier. Or, if it was, it wasn’t functioning like one…”

Dane abruptly steps away from the doorframe. “Oh, sweet Jaydes, are you telling me this is a haunted mirror? Is the armored ghost possessing it or something?!”

Luigi studies his reflection a moment more, searching for anything amiss. Nothing changes. No cracks, no shadowy ghosts, just a rung-out human in need of a change of clothes and a shower. He closes the door, feeling out of sorts. “It was probably an illusion,” he says quietly. “Spectral shenanigans. Nothing to worry ourselves over.”

Luigi hopes he sounds more certain than he feels. Without further acknowledgment or investigation, he locks the door with his skeleton key and tears it down with a well-aimed Suction Shot. Luigi wordlessly moves to check the next door, only to find there isn’t one. He casts his befuddled gaze back the way they came. A significantly more reasonable number of doors now line each wall. Apparently, they have finished clearing this hall of traps and door portals.

Luigi waves Pepper and Dane forward. “Let’s move on.”

The next hall the trio are dumped into comes to a dead end. Luigi grimaces, already imagining the many different scenarios where they end up cornered and trapped by whatever may be lurking behind these doors. Nothing has jumped out to attack them yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Luigi looks over his shoulder, considering whether to brave their current hall or throw themselves back to the enchantment’s mercy. He turns toward the dead end and ventures forth with a sigh. They’d likely have to come back here anyway; may as well get it over with.

Luigi destroys two trap doors on opposite walls in quick succession, Dane and Pepper following quietly behind. Both give Luigi a generous amount of space each time he stops to conduct an inspection. He is about to examine door number six when he detects movement in his peripheral. About halfway down the hall, one of the doors on the left begins to open. Luigi gestures for his companions to stay put and quickly moves so he is standing between them and the new potential threat. They watch the door’s painfully slow progress, its hinges creaking eerily in the cramped quarters. It eases to a stop; nothing emerges.  

“...that is... super creepy,” Dane whispers.

Luigi frowns at the apparent invitation. “Stay close to me," he quietly tells the teen, “And get ready to run."  

Dane nods his understanding. He trails nervously after Luigi as the latter cautiously approaches the door. Luigi wordlessly readies his Poltergust. They are almost within reach when a green blur tumbles over the threshold and crashes into the far wall. It slides to the floor in an amorphous blob before quickly reforming into a familiar shape.

“Gooigi!"

The ghost hunter startles, surprised by Luigi’s presence, and turns to the trio with wide eyes. Any relief at being reunited is swiftly dashed by a massive morning star soaring through the open doorway and embedding itself in the wall just above Gooigi’s head. 

“Run!”

A giant, clawed hand erupts from the doorway, knocking the door off its hinges as it reaches fervently for the ectomorph. Gooigi swiftly dodges, narrowly avoiding the swiping hand. He leaps to his feet with a distressed warble and dashes past his gawking partner. Luigi jolts from his stupor and quickly directs his companions to join the ghost hunter in their retreat. They run back the way they came, but the moment the group attempts to pass their first intersection, the enchantment’s magic takes hold. Suddenly, the ghost’s swiping hand is in their path, blocking their way forward. Luigi turns and finds a wall at their back. The enchantment had deposited them at the hallway’s dead end.

They’re trapped.

Luigi whirls back to the Vitiate’s flailing arm. The ghost has managed to poke its head out of the door—revealing it to be the Clubba Vitiate that Dane had told him about—but it can’t seem to get the rest of its bulbous body through the threshold. Luigi squints at the struggling entity, bewildered. Why doesn’t it just phase through the wall?

“It’s stuck! That’s good, right?" Dane asks hopefully. “We’re safe?”

The Clubba suddenly retreats into the room. A second later, its hands emerge, clasping both sides of the doorway’s framing. Then, it pulls—widening the opening like someone manually prying open a sliding door. Instead of crumbling into rubble, the walls stretch unnaturally to accommodate the ghost’s impromptu changes to the threshold’s dimensions. Once wide enough, the dark entity claws its way out into the cramped hall.

“O-okay! Um... at least it can’t really move out here!"  

The Vitiate growls irritably as it fails to stand at its full height. It raises both arms, palms to the ceiling, and pushes. The ceiling ascends a couple meters before coming to a stop, again changing the room’s dimensions without any signs of damage. It reaches an arm out to the morning star imbedded in the wall and grabs the handle. With the other arm, the Clubba shoves against the wall, sending it back another couple of meters while simultaneously freeing their weapon. 

“Oh, come on!"

“What did I tell you about tempting fate?!”

Luigi watches as the Clubba rises to its full height. The dark entity reminds the plumber a lot of his brother’s old foe, Tubba Blubba, only bigger. Impractically large tusks jut out from its bottom jaw and two, sharp horns curl back over the entity’s head. Its tail is longer too—so much so that it now drags on the ground behind it instead of poking up in the air.   

The Vitiate takes two lumbering steps toward the cornered mortals, closing the already little distance between them. Now that the ghost is closer, Luigi can tell by the way it holds itself that it isn’t at full strength. Gooigi may have failed to catch it in their time apart, but they certainly drained a fair share of the ghost’s energy. Hopefully, with their combined efforts, they can quickly finish it off.

Luigi looks from the ghost to the wall at his back. Full power or not, the Clubba is still incredibly dangerous, especially in such close quarters. Luigi needs to create distance, and fast.

“Gooigi, hit them with the Strobulb," he tells his partner quietly. Then, loud enough for the others to hear, “Everyone get behind me.”

The ectomorph nods as Dane and Pepper squeeze into what little space remains between Luigi and the dead end. While his partner charges their Strobulb, Luigi holsters the Poltergust’s wand and hastily removes his damp gloves. He rolls up his sleeves as an after-thought and raises a fist, sparks coming to life along his hand. Luigi isn’t soaked through, but he’s still far from dry. He can only hope his precautionary measures will reduce whatever backlash he may receive.

The Vitiate, seeing Luigi’s building attack, tries to interfere with a pre-emptive strike of their own, but Gooigi blinds them with a flash before they can follow through. They stumble back with a snarl, and Gooigi quickly moves behind the plumber while the ghost furiously rubs at their eyes. With a final burst of charge, Luigi unleashes the Thunderhand. The attack strikes true, sending the Clubba ghost hurdling down the widened hallway. Unfortunately, as the plumber suspected, his clothes conduct some of the attack, and he receives a shock of his own. Luigi collapses to his hands and knees, muscles spasming minutely at the backlash.

“That was freaking awesome!" Dane whoops, fist pumping in the air. He double takes, finally taking notice of Luigi’s hunched form. “Whoa, man, are you okay?"

“I-I’ll be fine." Luigi gives himself a hard shake. This isn’t the first time the Thunderhand backfired on him, and it certainly isn’t the worst.

Gooigi offers their help as he moves to stand, but when the ectomorph’s hand contacts Luigi’s damp clothes, their palm starts to sizzle. They recoil, looking between Luigi and their reforming hand with a lightly quirked brow. The plumber gives his partner a flat look.

“Not. One. Word." He grumbles.   

A deep growl snaps the group’s attention back to the Vitiate steadily recovering from Luigi’s attack. It slowly rises from the ground, residual electricity arcing off its ethereal form. Then, with a furious roar, the Clubba ghost turns to the wall and delivers a powerful kick. Instead of expanding outward, like the entity’s previous manipulations, the hall flips over like a box pushed onto its side—sending Luigi and company flying. All but the Polterpup land in painful heaps on the wall-turned-floor.

“That is, so not fair," Dane wheezes.

The dark entity guffaws heartily at the dazed mortals, lifting its leg to deliver another world-altering kick, but Luigi is ready this time. He calls a warning to his companions and rushes to brace himself for the pull of gravity. The hall flips just as violently as before, but the mortals fair far better as they land on what was once the ceiling. Luigi quickly leaps back to his feet.

“Pepper, you stay here with Dane and keep him safe! Gooigi, you’re with me!"

The Polterpup barks in the affirmative and Gooigi nods, wordlessly following their partner as the latter dashes down the hall. They make it about halfway to their target before the Vitiate decides to flip the room yet again. Luigi mentally nudges the ectomorph, silently conveying an idea. Gooigi presses back in acknowledgement, and, just before the room turns, the two ghost hunters simultaneously perform a Burst—easing their transition to the new plane and significantly reducing their recovery time. The Clubba scowls at their resourcefulness and quickly flips the room again, hoping to catch them off guard, but they anticipate the action and perform another Burst before they can be thrown. Frustrated, the Clubba switches tactics and hoists its weapon into the air. Once the two ghost hunters are in range, it lunges forward and brings the morning star down in a brutal swing. The duo narrowly dodge the blow, leaping to opposite sides of the hallway. The Vitiate continues its wild onslaught, spiked bludgeon scraping mortar from the walls and splintering wood beneath the ruined rug. A particularly brutal swing crashes into the floor and the mighty weapon becomes embedded in its surface. The ghost hunters pause, taking a moment of reprieve while the dark entity struggles to free it.

“Any ideas on how to take it down?" Luigi signs, trying to give himself a chance to catch his breath.   

Gooigi stares at the ghost in brief contemplation. After a moment, he perks, turning to Luigi and miming a poof of air like that of the Burst from their Poltergust. He mimics being off balance and then slams one hand on top of the other.

“Take it down by literally taking it down?” The plumber confirms.

Gooigi nods.

“Simple and to the point. I like it."

The two look over in time to see the Clubba ghost pull its weapon free with a mighty tug, sending the lumbering behemoth stumbling back at the sudden lack of resistance. They exchange a glance—there's their opening. Luigi and his partner rush in as the Vitiate tries to recover and simultaneously activate the Burst function of their Poltergusts. The blast of air knocks the already unstable ghost onto their back, and the two ghost hunters waste no time in switching on their glorified vacuums. Each aims their nozzles at a different leg and quickly draws in their respective target. The ghost flails with a snarl, attempting to pull away, but before it can make any progress, the duo lifts as one and swings it in an arc before slamming it back into the ground. They perform this maneuver once, twice, three times—the ghost howling its protests. Luigi activates the Power Surge function, draining the last of the ghost’s energy. He exchanges a look with his partner. With a wordless nod, he shuts off the intake and watches as the roaring Vitiate disappears into Gooigi’s Poltergust.

Five down...

Mere moments after the Vitiate’s defeat, the hallway begins to shudder. Everyone watches in quiet awe as the ceiling lowers and the walls constrict. The doorway Gooigi and the Clubba had come through follows suit, and soon everything has returned to its previous dimensions. The only evidence of their ghostly encounter is the damage left by the Clubba’s deadly weapon.  

Luigi smiles wearily, offering his friend a thumbs-up. “Nice work."

Gooigi mirrors the gesture. “Ditto."

Dane and Pepper run over, quickly regrouping with the ghost hunters. The teen looks like he’s about to burst with giddiness. “Whoa! I didn’t know you could bash ghosts into stuff! That must feel super cathartic."

“Well, I wouldn’t say—"

“It does.”

Luigi frowns at his doppelgänger. The ectomorph stares back innocently.

“What? You think so too. Don’t lie."

Luigi rolls his eyes, turning back to the Doogan. “Anyway. You okay, kid? Not too banged up I hope…”

“Eh, a bruise here or there, but I’m good. Pepper kept me from being thrown around when the room flipped."

Luigi smiles down at his ghostly companion. “Good job, Pepper."

The Polterpup’s tail gives the faintest wag. An oddly subdued reaction to his praise, Luigi thinks.

“Oh! Where are my manners?" Luigi turns, gesturing to his partner. “Dane, allow me to introduce you to my friend, Gooigi. Gooigi? This is Dane.”

Dane waves sheepishly at the ectomorph. “Hey dude... sorry I, uh, ran from you earlier.”

“You threw an onion at me.”

Luigi quirks a brow at the teen. “You did what now?”

“I told you, I thought he was a bad guy!”

“Why an onion, though?”

“It was a misunderstanding of folklore,” Gooigi signs. “He probably meant to use garlic.”

“But... you’re not a vampire,” the plumber says superfluously. “You don’t even look like one.”

“Hey, imagine how confused I was.”

Dane crosses their arms and shrinks in on themselves, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “Look, I’m sorry about that, okay? I was freaking out and wasn’t thinking. Can we please just drop it?"

Luigi shrugs, taking pity on the kid. “Fine with me. Oh, and for the record, don’t rely on garlic for protection.”

The ectomorph mirrors his shrug and waves a hand dismissively at the kid. “We’re good. I’m just glad to see you aren’t hurt.”

Dane relaxes, looking relieved. “Right back at ya, my jello fellow.”

“I am not gelatin. I am goo.”

“If we want to get technical,” Luigi interjects, “he's coffee and ectoplasm.”

“...I have never heard anything more relatable in my life."

Luigi regards Dane with a quirked brow. The ectomorph puffs up and playfully elbows his partner in the side.

“Hear that, Luigi? I’m relatable.”

Luigi gives his partner a flat look. “Truly, you are the voice of a generation.” He glances down the hall, sobering at the reminder that they are all still standing at a dead-end. “We should get moving before something else shows up and corners us.”

Gooigi puts a hand on his shoulder. “Wait.” When they’re sure they have his attention, they gesture to the room they had been violently expunged from. “There’s something you need to see.”

Chapter Text

Luigi stands at the base of the stairs, staring tiredly at the top. He turns his gaze to Dane. “You performed the séance in your attic?”

Dane shrugs sheepishly. “Is there a rule against that?”

“Not necessarily. It’s just a little…”

“…cliché?”

“I was going to say ‘cramped’, but yeah, that too.”

“At least it wasn’t in the basement,” Gooigi offers.

“Small mercies.” Luigi agrees, ascending the stairs. Dane trails after him, followed by Pepper and then Gooigi.

Like his partner, Luigi is also quick to step away from the stairs once he reaches the top, ushering Dane after him. Once he is sure everyone is clear of the stairs, he turns to inspect the room. Luigi cautiously approaches the magic circle. He regards it with unease. Though he doesn’t recognize the magic, he knows it’s not something for amateurs to be messing with. He turns to Dane.

“Kid, what in the world were you and your friends trying to do here?”

Dane stares down at the circle, brows furrowed in confusion. “We… didn’t draw this.”

“What?”

“The candles are ours,” Dane says, gesturing to the objects in question, “but we didn’t make this circle. All we did was read the spell out of the book.”

Luigi looks down at the magic circle, contemplative. He takes out a rectangular device with a large screen and begins booting it up.

Dane shoots Luigi an incredulous look. “...is now really the time to be playing video games?”

“It’s not a video game,” Luigi replies, not looking up from the screen, “It’s one of the professor’s latest inventions—a device that identifies magic spells, circles, and artifacts.”

“E. Gadd calls it The Witch.”

The Doogan blinks slowly at Gooigi. “But it just looks like a Swi—”

“I know,” Luigi interjects, tiredly. “You, me, and the twenty-six cease-and-desist letters in E. Gadd’s trashcan, know.”

“Twenty-seven. Another one came in the other day.”

“Whoa... how has this dude not faced legal action, yet?”

“The authorities are too chicken to approach his lab. One of the perks of living with ghosts, I guess.” Luigi frowns to himself. “Speaking of ghosts, I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume one of yours is responsible for this circle. I don’t know what they’re planning to do with it, but I doubt it’s anything pleasant.”

“Another astute observation.”

The plumber glares at Gooigi, unimpressed. “Anyway, I’m going to take some pictures of the circle and see if there’s any information about it in The Witch’s database. Dane? I want you to go wait over there,” Luigi gestures to the far wall opposite the staircase, “while Gooigi and I do our inspection. I rather you not be near the circle in case it activates.”

“An excuse to sit down? You don’t have to ask me twice.”

Dane turns to do as he’s asked, but an impulse has Luigi reaching out and grabbing the kid’s shoulder. He stops, looking about as startled as Luigi feels.

“Leave the book,” Luigi says.

The Doogan blinks back at him. “Huh?”

Luigi releases his grip on Dane, instead, holding the offending hand out in a silent demand. “If ‘The Witch’ doesn’t have the information we need, I’ll have to resort to finding answers in there.”

It’s sound reasoning, but it’s not the truth, Luigi realizes. For some inexplicable reason, Luigi wants that book away from the kid, even if the thought of holding it again makes him uncomfortable.

Dane regards him searchingly. Then, with a shrug, he holds out the old tome. “Makes sense to me.”

Luigi carefully takes back the book, feeling a strange combination of triumph and dread. He is, at the very least, relieved when he isn’t struck with an overwhelming desire to open it.

Dane nods to himself and resumes his trek across the attic, giving the magic circle a wide berth as he goes. He plops down against the far wall and takes out his phone. A quiet, somewhat compressed tune begins to play as the Doogan taps away at the screen—the kid must be playing a mobile game that doesn’t require an internet connection (so much for now not being the time for games).

Luigi looks down to the Polterpup. “Hey Pepper, can you keep an eye on the kid for me?”

The spectral canine stares up at Luigi, unblinking. Then, quietly, they pad across the room to join their charge.

“What’s with them?”

Luigi shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says quietly, lowering his voice to keep Dane from overhearing their conversation. “He’s been acting strange ever since we left the first floor.” He glances over at the Polterpup, bemused. “Maybe it’s because of all the negative energy.”

“It does feel pretty nasty on this floor,” Gooigi concurs. "And I haven’t noticed much of a change since we caught the Clubba, have you?”

The plumber shakes his head. “Not really. But we still have at least three ghosts unaccounted for, so I guess that’s not too surprising.” He gingerly places the spell book on the floor by his feet. Luigi then holds up The Witch and snaps a picture of the magic circle. 

Gooigi looks down at their hands, quietly counting off their fingers in their head. "I thought you said there were six ghosts. Haven’t we already gotten five? Did I miscount?”

“No, your math is fine,” Luigi sighs tiredly. “There were six ghosts, but Dane told me the hooded ghost managed to summon two more—the Clubba being one of them.”

“Do you know anything about the remaining ghosts?”

“Well, I’m not sure of the identity of the other ghost that was summoned. Dane described them as a ‘bad Halloween costume', but nothing immediately came to mind. Any ideas?”

“I got nothing.”

Luigi hums thoughtfully, submitting the picture he took into The Witch’s search function. A separate window opens on the screen—hundreds of images flit by as the device tries to find a match in the database. “We’ll come back to that later, I guess. Anyway, its summoner, the hooded ghost—”

“Very creative name by the way.”

Luigi frowns at his partner, unimpressed. He perks suddenly, the comment reminding him of an earlier exchange with Dane. “Speaking of creative names, I have another nickname to add to the list, courtesy of the kid."

The ectomorph looks to Luigi with a hint of trepidation. Luigi grins impishly.

“Gummy Man.”

“Thanks, I hate it.”

“At least it’s more fitting than some of the other ones.”

“Like Gelato? I look nothing like ice cream!”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“All the nicknames on the list are terrible and I hate them.”

“What about Decaf and Expresso? Can I still use them?”

“…I’ll allow it,” Gooigi warbles in a way that somehow sounds begrudging. “Can we get back to the debrief, now?”

“Sure thing, Jelly Joe.”

“Please. Stop.”

Luigi relents with a victorious smirk. His expression quickly sobers, and he resumes relaying what little information he has. He recounts all that Dane had told him about what transpired before he arrived. The squabble between the hooded Vitiate and the armored Dark Koopa, the apparent victory of the latter, and how the victor’s ire was turned on Dane. He tells of finding Dane and then his own encounter with the Dark Koopa ghost—how the ghost was so desperate for him to read from the book.

“Did you?” Gooigi asks, “Read from the book, I mean.”

Luigi shakes his head slowly. “I was about to, but everything fell apart after Dane interrupted. The kid’s panic set the ghost off, and they tried to shut him up with an axe.”

“Jaydes below, they tried to kill the kid?” Gooigi glances back at the oblivious teenager. “That’s quite a leap from attempting to possess him.”

Luigi’s eyes widen. Dane didn’t mention anything about that. “Hold on, they tried to possess Dane?”

“That’s what it looked like to me.” Gooigi shrugs. “I tried to talk them down, but they just yelled at me in that weird language of theirs.”

“It wasn’t another language. They were talking backwards.”

“What difference does it make? I couldn’t understand what they were saying, could you?”

“Not on my own, no.” Luigi sets the still-deliberating Witch on a nearby trunk and retrieves his cellphone. “I recorded them speaking with this and then played it…” He trails off, noticing the audio app still open when the screen lights up. “…backwards.”

Gooigi looks from the phone to his partner. “What’s wrong?”

Luigi doesn’t answer right away. Thinking back, Luigi realizes he didn’t stop the last recording he made while talking to the Dark Koopa. He’d been too afraid to take his eyes off the angry entity to bother with it.

“I didn’t get a chance to listen to the last recording,” Luigi says quietly. He scrutinizes the audio file—it is only ten minutes long. The app must have a recording limit. Still, a lot happened in those ten minutes… “Maybe we can get some answers.”

Luigi turns down the volume on his phone, making it just loud enough for him and Gooigi to hear the playback, but hopefully too quiet for Dane to pick up over the tinny music of their game. He slowly scrubs through the audio, skipping over anything unintelligible.

<< [“If you won’t listen, I’ll just have to make you understand. You’re playing right into my master’s hand, you well-meaning fool!”]<<

Luigi pauses the audio, wide-eyed. He exchanges a look with the ectomorph.

“Rude and ominous. We’re off to a great start.”

Luigi sighs and resumes the playback. He scrubs through until he hears something intelligible.

<<[“Silence, you cur!”]<<

Gooigi squawks indignantly. “Super rude! Who do they think they are, talking to you like that?”

“I don’t think that was directed at me,” Luigi says. “I think they were yelling at Dane.”

“…okay, that makes more sense, but still very rude.”

The audio continues to play. This time, neither interject as Luigi skips to each of the Dark Koopa’s spiels.

<<[“Can you not see that they are stalling?! Why do you hesitate?!”]<<

<<[“Break the hex now while we still have a chance! Pay them no heed; they’re trying to distract you.”]<<

<<[“For your sake, the truth mustn't wait a moment longer. Be quick.”]<<

<<[“Now, step aside! I’m not after the child! —”]<<

Luigi stops the audio and looks back at Gooigi, brows pinched in confusion.

“What do they mean they aren’t after Dane?” Gooigi signs rapidly. “They tried to possess the kid right in front of me!”

Luigi frowns to himself, giving his partner a considering look. “Can you describe exactly what happened?”

Gooigi groans, sounding put upon. “The ghost grabbed Dane from behind and started phasing into his body. Simple as that.” He pauses. “The kid also said something about being really cold.”

Luigi’s frown deepens. Something isn’t right. “That should have happened instantaneously.”

“What?”

“Fully latching onto a host and gaining control takes time, especially if the entity’s target is strong willed,” Luigi explains, “but phasing into the host doesn’t take more than a second. You shouldn’t have seen it happen, never mind had the time to react to it.”

“So, what, does the armored ghost just suck at possessing people?”

Luigi is suddenly hit with a spike of irritation. He shakes his head, as if to dispel it. “A lack of skill wouldn’t slow down an entry; they would’ve just been immediately expunged from the host. No, for there to be that kind of resistance, the target host would have to be wearing some kind of ward—”

“Somehow I doubt onion boy has something like that,” Gooigi interjects.

Luigi silently agrees, Dane’s pepper shaker appearing in the forefront of his mind. “Without a magical deterrent, the armored ghost shouldn’t have faced any resistance. Not unless…” Luigi peters off, eyes widening.

“…unless?” Gooigi prompts.

Luigi pales, eyes trailing over to Dane. The Doogan is still tapping away at their phone, oblivious to their conversation. Gooigi follows his gaze.

“Unless” Luigi whispers, voice strained, “the targeted host was already possessed.”

“…No way.” The ectomorph warbles. Luigi quickly averts his gaze back to his partner. “That goofball can’t possibly be… I mean, I know I haven’t been around him very long, but I haven’t noticed anything off, have you?”

Luigi shakes his head imperceptibly. “Nothing sinister. Dane’s a little odd, sure, but he seems completely sincere.”

“So, he hasn’t shown any symptoms?” Gooigi presses.

“None,” Luigi affirms. “No unusual fatigue or compulsions, no heightened aggression or irritability—” He abruptly cuts himself off, a connection forming in his mind. “…Oh.”

The armored Koopa… when they had pushed Luigi out the window, he vaguely recalls an icy thrill shooting down his spine. Luigi had thought it strange that the ghost didn’t tumble through the window’s portal with him, but he’d been too focused on Dane to pay the oddity much mind. That’s also right around the time the peculiar bouts of anger and irritation cropped up. And the intense desire to read from the spell book… Luigi had thought it to be the tome’s influence. Then there’s the incident with the doorway mirror. It hadn’t been an illusion or some cheap scare; the enchanted mirror had shown Luigi his hidden passenger.

Exasperation, relief, and triumph strike Luigi all at once. He finally understands. ¹

“What is it?” Gooigi chances a look at Dane to make sure the kid is still focused on their game. He returns his attention to Luigi. “Is the kid…?”

Luigi bites back a laugh, feeling a touch hysterical. “Possibly. Me? Definitely.”

“…What?”

“It would seem, somewhere along the way, I may have picked up a paranormal passenger.”

Gooigi takes a cautious step back, wariness surging from their end of the bond. “…hitchhiker or hijacker?”

‘If you won’t listen, I’ll just have to make you understand.’

“…I think they were going for hijacker, but ended up as a hitchhiker,” Luigi replies delicately. The foreign surge of annoyance he feels seems to confirm his theory.  

“And what, exactly, does this failed hijacker want?”

Luigi’s eyes trail down to the spell book resting at his feet. “…a voice.”

He wordlessly pockets his phone and scoops up the discarded tome. The urge to read from the book strikes harder than before, but this time, Luigi doesn’t resist. He opens the book and flips to a particular page (under his hitchhiker’s guidance, no doubt). One of the passages begins to glow, and Luigi distantly recognizes it as the one the Dark Koopa had tried to persuade him to read.

“Luigi,” his partner hisses quietly. Luigi looks up. “What are you doing?”

“Giving the hitchhiker what they want.”

Then, quietly, Luigi begins to recite the spell.

Gooigi is an anxious presence in the back of his mind. It amplifies Luigi’s own sense of urgency to finish the passage. A chill creeps down his spine as he nears the spell’s conclusion. His hair stands on end, and seconds after the final word has left his mouth, a sharp tug at Luigi’s center has him stumbling back. Luigi’s vision briefly flashes as a weight he hadn’t noticed lifts from his shoulders. Gooigi emits a surprised warble, and Luigi raises his head to meet a pair of glowing red eyes.

There, within arm’s reach, hovers the armored Koopa Vitiate.

“Finally,” the dark entity rasps, “I was beginning to lose my hold.”

Gooigi sputters, looking between the two with palpable shock. He gesticulates at his partner emphatically. “Your hitchhiker was the armored ghost?! When did that happen?”

A white blur captures Luigi’s attention, halting any sort of response he may have made. It darts around the armored Koopa and snatches the spell book from Luigi’s lax grip. Luigi finally registers the blur to be the Polterpup just as it dashes away. He moves as if to pursue the pup.

“Pepper?! Give that back—!” A cold hand grasps Luigi’s shoulder, effectively stopping the futile chase before it can begin. Luigi looks to the armored Vitiate, startled.

“Now,” the Vitiate hisses, an axe construct forming in their other hand, “you will see the truth.”

Without further explanation, the armored Koopa hurls the axe at the fleeing spectral canine. It happens too quickly for Luigi to intervene, but under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t even need to. Pepper has a pension for lucky breaks—of being in the right place at the right time. This is the part where the Polterpup miraculously dodges the oncoming weapon, or when something inexplicable knocks the blade off course—a gust of wind in the drafty attic, a loose floorboard that tilts up under a ghostly paw and takes the hit—but nothing of the sort happens. Pepper is nearly at the magic circle’s center when the unthinkable happens. Luigi watches, constricted by a fear he has never felt for his spectral canine, as the axe hits its target. There’s a ghostly wail. The Polterpup vanishes in a puff of smoke.

In Pepper’s place, pinned to the floor by the construct’s blade, lies a Duplighost. ²

Luigi gapes at the imposter, his shock mirrored and amplified by his paranormal partner.

“A Duplighost? How—when did—?” A gurgle of distress bubbles from Gooigi. “What is going on?!”

Luigi wishes he knew, but suddenly Pepper’s strange behavior made sense. Duplighosts were masters of mimicry, at least as far as appearances go. They do rather poorly at emulating the source’s personality (if they even bother to do so at all). In hindsight, Pepper’s change after their brief separation between floors should have raised a whole different set of red flags. Luigi had come to assume that all the summoned entities were Vitiates. He should have known better than to make those types of assumptions.

“A bad Halloween costume,” Luigi murmurs. That is certainly one way to describe the sheet-ghost-like entities.

The Duplighost levels Luigi with a glare. It quickly morphs into wide-eyed terror when they see the armored Koopa summoning another axe. The Duplighost tugs desperately at the weapon keeping them pinned by their cloak's edge. When it becomes clear that they can’t free themselves, they scoop up the fallen spell book with a panicked warble and throw it in the direction they had been headed.

Movement draws Luigi’s attention. Dane has abandoned his refuge along the far wall. The kid’s eyes are on the book sailing through the dusty air. With a desperate lunge, they catch the old tome and stumble to a stop within the magic circle. A look of triumph lights up his face.

It is short lived.

Suddenly, the armored Koopa is there, axe raised high above their head. With a furious cry, they bring the weapon down and bury the sharp blade in the space between the Doogan’s neck and shoulder. The spell book slips from Dane’s fingers.

This is where Luigi should scream—with rage or despair, something—but the breath doesn’t leave his lungs. There is a cold, distant horror freezing him in place. A voice whispers to him to wait, that this isn’t what it seems.

That he didn’t just get this kid killed.

Dane soundlessly drops to his knees, axe still buried in his neck and shoulder. He is unnaturally silent, and Luigi isn’t sure if this is worse than if the kid had been screaming in agony. The kid is staring blankly ahead of him without a hint of emotion. But that isn’t the only thing that is missing.

There isn’t any blood.

This key detail registers just as the Vitiate firmly takes hold of the axe’s handle. They raise a foot and rest it against the Doogan’s chest. Still grasping the axe, the Dark Koopa pushes against Dane until his body slides free from the blade. Dane collapses back onto the floor with a thump. A soft groan informs Luigi that the kid appears to be alive. There isn’t so much as a scratch on him.

An unsettling chuckle pulls Luigi’s attention away from Dane. He looks back to the armored Koopa and is startled to find the ghost is not alone. Kneeling where the kid had just been, is another shadowy figure. The axe construct is currently embedded in the same spot it had been on Dane. Unlike with Dane’s nonexistent injury, this one is sluggishly bleeding. A dark, inky substance oozes from the wound, but based on their eerie cachinnation, the entity seems wholly unbothered.

The dark entity grabs the axe’s handle but makes no attempt to remove it. They brace themselves against the construct as they raise their head. Luigi gasps quietly.

It’s the hooded ghost.

Yellow glowing eyes meet the piercing red glare of their attacker. The hooded Vitiate’s gaze is mirthful, almost as if they are amused to have a medieval weapon buried in their neck. The rest of their features are hidden in the shadows of their hood. Everything, that is, but a long, white mustache. ³

“Oh dear,” the hooded Vitiate chuckles darkly, “it appears the jig is up.”

A cheerful little tune chimes from The Witch, indicating the device had completed its analysis of the magic circle. Luigi distantly hears the notification but makes no move to check the results. He is too focused on the hooded entity, gaping in stunned silence as his mind desperately tries to keep up in the wake of this latest revelation. All this time, the wayward hooded ghost had been overshadowing Dane—hiding in plain sight. For what purpose? And where is Pepper? Why did the Duplighost take the spirit canine’s place? He has so many questions, but Gooigi manages to convey this far more succinctly.

“I ask again,” Gooigi says with increasing exasperation, “What in Jaydes’ name is going on?!”

Luigi flinches minutely, his partner’s exclamation calling forth two seemingly innocuous memories; something that Dane had said after escaping the armored Koopa’s wrath, and again after the incident with the mirror.

‘Luigi! Oh, thank Jaydes! I thought the ghosts found a way to separate us.’

‘Oh, sweet Jaydes, are you telling me this is a haunted mirror?’

The kid had invoked Jaydes’ name. Not Grambi, not the Stars, but Jaydes—a name few mortals dare speak for fear of damning their souls. It’s complete nonsense—Luigi occasionally has tea with the infamous queen and she’s really quite pleasant—but the superstition reigns supreme. Only spectral entities and the undead call upon her. ⁴

And, apparently, teenagers overshadowed by malevolent ghosts.

Luigi finds himself wracking his brain for other signs that alluded to the boy’s possession. Dane’s spotty memory when recalling the fight between the hooded ghost and the armored Koopa comes to mind—how the cloaked entity seemingly disappeared without a trace. How the Koopa Vitiate abruptly turned their ire on the boy. It seems obvious in hindsight.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to make a move,” the hooded Vitiate continues, paying Gooigi’s query no acknowledgement, “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t have the human attack me outright. Is his will really so strong?” Their head tilts mockingly. “Or are you just that weak?”

“Enough talk, wizard,” the armored Koopa growls, an axe forming in their free hand. “It’s time I scrub your blight from this plane.”

The dark wizard drums their fingers along the imbedded weapon’s handle with a hum. “Do I not get any last words before I’m cast to the hereafter?”

In answer, the armored Koopa raises the newly formed axe in preparation to strike.

“Ah. Fair enough.”

Before the Koopa Vitiate can complete their swing, the dark wizard thrusts out their non-compromised arm. An unseen force crashes into the Koopa Vitiate with remarkable force, tearing them away from their hold on the wizard. The armored Koopa is thrown beyond the magic circle’s perimeter. They recover from the blow with surprising speed, but when the armored Koopa attempts to descend upon the dark entity once more, they are stopped by an invisible barrier at the circle’s edge. Snarling in rage, the armored Koopa attempts to approach from another angle. The result is the same. A desperate throw reveals that their weapon constructs are not exempt from the barrier’s prejudice.

The dark wizard cackles as they rise from their kneeling position. “Another failed attempt. How embarrassing for you.” With their opposite arm, they tear the axe from their shoulder and inspect it with dull interest. “Though I will admit, I’m feeling rather humbled myself. I should have already had you barred from the circle in the first place.”

The armored Koopa abruptly whirls on the ghost hunting duo, growling in frustration. “What are you two waiting for?!” they hiss angrily, “Attack my master now while you still have a chance!”

“Oh, I highly advise against that,” the dark wizard says, drifting closer to the unconscious teenager. He hefts the repossessed axe construct pointedly. “Unless, of course, you’re curious to see how the pup will endure this blade without a ghostly passenger to take the hit…”

“Dishonorable wretch!” the armored Koopa snarls.

The wizard Vitiate shrugs indifferently. “It’s not my fault you can’t keep track of your toys; not that I need them to maim the mutt.”

“Nobody needs to maim anyone!” Luigi interjects, taking a hurried few steps toward the wizard. “Can we please just put away the weapons and speak civilly?”

For once.

“You’re wasting your breath, human,” the armored Koopa says. “My master is deaf to diplomacy. He is beyond reasoning.”

The dark wizard barks out a laugh. “Such a bold claim, coming from you. Tell me, my dear knight, which of us thus far has begun or ended their interactions with the throw of an axe?”

The armored Koopa—the knight—is positively fuming. Luigi imagines they’d be lobbing another construct if not for the barrier, uncaring if the very act proved the wizard’s point.

“No clever rebuttal? I’m almost disappointed.” The wizard Vitiate turns his gaze to Luigi. “Pay them no mind, human. My surly knight has been in a foul mood from the very moment we were summoned here, and I fear I may have exacerbated it by placing all my attention on you. They don’t like it when I take interest in other people.”

“People that catch your interest,” the knight hisses, “end up dead.”

Well. That’s… certainly an alarming revelation. One that the dark wizard apparently doesn’t appreciate being brought into the light, if his narrowed eyes are any indication.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to end this precious attempt at parlay a bit prematurely,” the wizard Vitiate says. He shoots the knight a sour look. “Lest my servant spoil anything else.”

The dark wizard makes a sharp coaxing gesture in the ghost hunting duo’s direction. Luigi, misinterpreting the motion to be one of challenge, quickly raises his hands placatingly. He begins to speak—a doomed attempt to de-escalate the situation—but his words are swallowed by a cry of surprise when something collides with him from behind. The opposing force shoves Luigi forward hard enough to knock the man off his feet. Just before he strikes the floorboard, the mystery assailant swiftly wraps itself around Luigi—cocooning all but his head and a flailing arm.

A garbled yelp informs Luigi that his paranormal partner has suffered a similar fate. When the world finally rights itself, he spares a moment to identify his bindings before attempting to escape its hold. The wizard had deigned to utilize one of the many dusty sheets covering the various trunks and furniture. Luigi scrabbles at the fabric with his free arm as he kicks and twists, but his efforts prove futile—his fibrous prison too tightly wrapped to allow any meaningful struggle.

“There we are, nice and secure,” the dark wizard purrs.

Luigi flinches at the voice’s proximity. He manages to tilt his head back, if only marginally, and is startled to find how close he is to the wizard Vitiate. They peer down at Luigi with open amusement. It suddenly occurs to him that he and Gooigi both now reside within the magic circle.

Luigi becomes distantly aware of the armored Koopa’s furious yelling. It sounds strangely muted, like they are calling to him from several rooms away instead of a few paces. The wizard spares the raging knight a glance, chuckling darkly as he retrieves the spell book from where it lay forgotten on the floor.

“Now, now, don’t be upset my little knight,” the wizard coos. “We can make up for lost time after I’ve had my fun.”

A ghostly warble abruptly steals the dark entity’s attention. He and Luigi both look to its source—the long overlooked Duplighost. Apparently, during all the confusion, they had managed to free themselves from the axe construct pinning them to the floor. Luigi blinks dumbly at the pitiful creature. He had forgotten it was even there.

“You’re still here?” the dark wizard says, sounding bewildered. It appears the shapeshifter had slipped his mind as well. “You’ve already served your purpose. Be gone with you!”

The Duplighost warbles indignantly, gesticulating between themselves and the dark entity. A growl of irritation rumbles from the wizard Vitiate.

“Very well,” the wizard rasps. He levitates the spell book off to the side, freeing one of his occupied hands. With a flick of the wrist, the dark wizard grasps something unseen in the air. There’s a glint, like morning light striking dew-laden spider silk, and suddenly a glowing thread appears between the two entities, linking them together. Luigi’s eyes widen with recognition. “Our contract is now void.”

The dark wizard swipes the axe-bearing arm in an upward arc, slicing cleanly through the magical tether with the construct’s sharp blade. As the thread dissolves, the Duplighost visibly sags with relief.

“Now leave!” The wizard Vitiate snarls. “I don’t want you in the circle when it activates.”

The reminder of the magic circle and Luigi’s precarious position within it begins his struggles anew. He scrabbles at the ground, futilely scrubbing the runes in an attempt to break the circle and disrupt the flow of magic, but the strange substance the wizard used to draw the circle proves itself to be resilient. Luigi swears under his breath. If he can’t disrupt the magic by etching away at the circle, he’ll have to vandalize it with something else. He lacks any writing utensils (not that he’d be able to reach them anyway), but perhaps the oily residue of Gooigi’s gelatinous body would be a sufficient medium. It couldn’t hurt to try. Luigi twists around, hoping to get Gooigi’s attention, when his hand brushes against something rectangular.

It’s The Witch.

Luigi stares at the professor’s invention with surprise. It must have gotten flung into the circle when the sheet was pulled from under it. The device landed screen-side up and appears to be remarkably undamaged. The results of its analysis are still displayed on the glowing screen, but the device is pointing away from Luigi, making it difficult to read. Luigi cranes his neck, attempting to glean anything from the upside-down lettering. He inhales sharply upon discerning a crucial part of the description.

A solid thud followed by a distressed wail catapults Luigi into high alert. He looks up in time to see the Duplighost stumble out of the magic circle, the wizard’s repossessed axe construct buried in its back. Apparently, the wizard found the shapeshifter’s departure rate unsatisfactory. Either that, or the sadistic Vitiate had intended to strike regardless of their level of haste. The wizard’s unhinged cackling has Luigi leaning toward the latter.

“Hold that for me, will you?” the dark wizard calls as an afterthought. He reclaims the levitating spell book at his side and flips it open to a seemingly arbitrary page. “I prefer to travel light.”

The offhanded comment confirms The Witch’s analysis. Luigi cranes his neck to locate his partner, hoping to convey his initial plan to vandalize the circle, but is dismayed to find Gooigi completely enveloped. Not a head nor a limb was spared the dusty fabric’s trappings. Frustrated gurgling can be heard within the thrashing confines, but Gooigi doesn’t appear to have made any more headway than himself in breaking free.

There’s no escaping this, Luigi realizes. Not before the magic circle can be activated. With a defiant sort of acceptance, Luigi looks back to the wizard.

“Where are you taking us?” he demands.

The dark wizard pauses, seemingly surprised by the question. He looks down at Luigi with an unreadable expression. His mustache slowly lifts at the edges, giving Luigi the impression the ghost is smiling.

“Home.”

Luigi shudders at the dark entity’s almost wistful tone. The wizard chuckles, amused by his unease.

“Don’t fret, human; you’ll find where we’re going to be much more accommodating. Best of all…” he leans marginally toward Luigi, a sadistic glint in his eyes. “We’ll have all the time in the world to get to know each other.”

The dark wizard turns his attention back to the spell book, yellow eyes scanning the pages. Dread fills Luigi as the wizard begins reading from the old tome. His heart rate only accelerates when the magic circle begins to glow. There is a loud pounding in his ears, and it takes Luigi a moment to realize it isn’t his heartbeat he’s hearing. The muted raging of the barred Koopa Vitiate has turned into something more frantic. They are attacking the invisible barrier with a new ferocity. With each heavy strike, Luigi notices that for the briefest moment, the knight’s voice becomes clearer.

Bang!

“—do not look—”

Bang!

“—guard your fear—”

Bang!

“—will break you—"

Disjointed though it may be, Luigi recognizes a warning when he hears one. He commits the incomplete cautionary words to his memory. Luigi can only hope their meaning will become clearer in time (ideally, before it’s too late to make a difference). Any other bites of wisdom the armored Koopa might offer is drowned out by the growing volume of the wizard’s voice and charging magic.

The white-blue glow of the circle’s runes vaguely reminds Luigi of his own magic. There’s a delayed click in his mind, and Luigi is momentarily stunned by an abrupt realization. He may not be able to reach the wand of his Poltergust, but he still very much has access to his own magic—the Thunderhand technique. Luigi looks between his free hand and the distracted wizard. The dark entity is no longer armed with the axe construct he had used to hold Dane hostage. Even if he was, the wizard is far too engrossed in the spell to make any sort of threat on the kid’s life.

Luigi frowns, remembering the result of his last attempt to call upon lightning. It hadn’t felt great, but as far as backlashes go, it was bearable. He decides he’s willing to risk another shock. When faced with the unknown dangers of the dark wizard’s haunt, it’s certainly the lesser of two evils.

Sparks of electricity dance between Luigi’s fingers as he warily eyes the dark wizard. The hairs on his arm rise as the power builds. He takes careful aim; the last thing Luigi wants to do is miss and hit the book. The tome could prove useful if he manages to reclaim it, but mostly, he rather not bear witness to whatever ire a failed attack would bring upon him.

Later, Luigi would lament how differently the following events may have unfolded had he thought to use the Thunderhand sooner.

The dark wizard finishes the spell milliseconds before Luigi unleashes his attack. Magic threads its tendrils into the fabric of reality and time slows to a crawl. Lightning arcs through the air as the wizard turns their head to regard Luigi. The triumph in their gaze rapidly gives way to surprise. A cloaked hand rises as if to deflect the attack, but whether this proves successful is lost in a flash of blinding light, followed by a concussive blast. Luigi feels as if the floor has dropped out from beneath him. The sudden ringing in his ears is replaced with deafening silence. The light yields to darkness. There is nothing—he is nothing.

Luigi does not exist.

Chapter Text

[Earlier That Night]

Anyone with a shred of magical aptitude knows that names hold power. Even more so, when it comes to spectral beings. The dark wizard has gone by many names in his long life and even longer afterlife. Does this grant him greater protection, or does it curse him with more vulnerability? He can’t say it seems to make much of a difference. Few of those that cross the wizard’s path live long enough to find out one way or the other.

Members of the wizard’s tribe are typically named based on their profession. The dark wizard doesn’t care to remember his first given name. He only recalls the title his people hissed in disdain as he was forced into exile; a title granted to those that cast off their mortal shackles and practiced the taboo art of necromancy.

Merlich.

The dark wizard isn’t overly fond of the name. It’s fitting, mind you, but “Merlich” doesn’t quite roll off the tongue, in his opinion. Fortunately, Merlich’s infamy gifted him with many names over the years. “Merlignant” is one. “Merciless” (a personal favorite) is another. “Merloathe” and “Merlevolent” are two such others. The list goes on. ¹

With such an extensive catalog of names, it would be a shame to just stick with one. Merlich found it more entertaining to choose his title based on circumstance—perhaps even his mood. So, when the dark wizard found himself abruptly torn away from his lair by a summoning spell, his mind settled on “Merderous”.

The dark wizard casts his gaze about the room. Sizeable, yet cramped, and lined with trunks and boxes covered by dusty sheets. A place for storage, he presumes. It was wholly unremarkable and quite frankly insulting for a sorcerer of his caliber to be summoned here. Worse yet, he wasn’t the only entity called upon. His knightly servant and four unfamiliar Vitiates have joined him in this involuntary house call. Unbelievable! He is not a part of some package deal! How dare they lump him together with a lowly slave and a handful of feral husks? But the slight doesn’t end there, oh no. The gravest insult of all is the summoners themselves.

Literal. Children.

There, seated below the dark entity, are six gawking brats. He identifies two Koopas, a Paratroopa, a Toad, a Yoshi, and… some sort of anthropomorphic dog. What is that species called again? A Doopin? He doesn’t know and quite frankly he doesn’t care (he’s more of a cat person anyway). What he does care about is the spell book clasped in the mutt’s filthy paws.

Ah. So that’s how they got here.

One of the children is speaking (something about telling fortunes), but Merderous doesn’t pay them any mind. He surreptitiously examines his point of arrival. The obnoxious youths are facing each other in a loose circle; between them, a ring of flickering candles. From what the dark wizard can discern, the candles are just made of ordinary wax with no purifying properties to speak of. There are no runes carved into the floor. No protective circles lined with salt. Not even a magical artifact to keep dark spirits at bay. These children are either highly arrogant or very, very stupid.

He's leaning toward the latter.

The feral Vitiates seem to have reached the same conclusion. They are laughing at the ignorant children, reveling in the dawning realization that something isn’t right. Neither he nor his knight join the dark entities in their mirth. Instead, they quietly observe the squirming children. Merderous briefly catches the yellow Yoshi’s gaze. The frugivore’s eyes widen and they instinctively shrink under his scrutiny. He grins, projecting feelings of malice and dark glee with focused intent. The Yoshi recoils as if they’d been struck. Such a sensitive thing! But it’s to be expected; their species are borderline empaths, after all.

Words, arcane in nature, tickle at the wizard’s ear. It’s nearly lost beneath the brain-dead cachinnating of the feral Vitiates. The necromancer’s head snaps towards its source: the pup with the book. It appears the child has grown wise to their mistake and intends to rectify it. A part of Merderous considers allowing the boy to finish the spell that would send them all back to their haunts. The children clearly hadn’t meant to summon dark entities, never mind a powerful necromancer, so why should they be made to suffer? It was an error born of ignorance. The merciful course of action would be to let them go.

But oh, there is a reason he is called Merciless.

Faster than the child can blink, the dark wizard is upon them. He swipes the old tome from their shaking hands and thrusts a palm out as if to strike. An invisible force seizes the bipedal canine and propels them across the room. The boy’s back collides with the far wall with enough force to leave them dazed. Merciless keeps them pinned in place as he turns to face the remaining dumbstruck children. Their fear crescendos in the wake of his hostile actions. A few of the feral Vitiates shudder with predatory anticipation.

The necromancer grins cruelly. He locks his focus on the mortal youths and projects a powerful energy that radiates danger-fear-threat-run-run-RUN! Their primal instincts heed the warning without fully understanding it. The children make a mad dash for the room’s exit, shrieking in terror. When the feral ghosts don’t immediately pursue them, Merciless cuts their metaphorical chains with an order to chase.

They do so with glee.

Merciless chuckles as the last entity slips out of sight. Let them have their fun for now. He’ll collect his own reparations when he’s finished here. He cracks open the old tome and flips through its yellowed pages, searching for a particular spell. Returning to his lair is a simple enough task, but to drag a mortal (never mind six) along for the ride requires a type of magic with a little more nuance.

The faintest hint of movement catches the necromancer’s eye. He briefly looks up from the spell book to find his brooding servant watching him with narrowed eyes. He quirks an unseen brow.

“Why are you still here?” he asks. “Don’t you have a sniveling brat to torment? There’s plenty to go around, you know.”

The shadowy knight’s only response is a sharpened glare. Merciless rolls his eyes.

“Suit yourself. Seems rather wasteful to pass up an easy meal, but it’s your loss, not mine.”

His servant doesn’t have anything to say to that, but he didn’t expect them to. Merciless drifts over to the teenager still pinned to the wall by his magic. He reaches toward them, snickering silently as the boy flinches away. They relax marginally when the dark wizard merely places his hand on the wall. The dark wizard mutters an incantation under his breath, quietly claiming the dwelling and the land bearing its foundation as his own. It is a temporary arrangement, one that will fade when he returns to his true haunt, but until then, it allows him to monitor the old property and all who inhabit it.

The feral ghosts appear to have each captured their victim of choice. He can sense their eight distinct energies spread out on the first floor. A ninth energy—the fifth wayward mortal—is pacing nervously in the front yard, too afraid to re-enter the house, but not quite willing to abandon their friends. How precious.

The necromancer turns to his servant. “One of the children managed to escape. Seeing as this is your fault, you should be the one to retrieve them.” His eyes crinkle in amusement as the knight clinches a fist at their side. “However, I believe it would be more entertaining to keep them out, don’t you?” He makes a shooing motion at the armored Dark Koopa. “Go on now, seal the door, and add a nice ward while you’re at it. Something that’ll give any unwanted visitors a little… shock.”

The knight’s eyes narrow even further. At this point, Merciless can’t tell if his servant is glaring or squinting. It’s unbecoming of them. Perhaps he should tear off their eyelids. A wide-eyed gaze could be a refreshing change of pace from the ever-present glower.

Merciless is almost disappointed when the knight leaves without a word. He shrugs to himself. He can attempt a magical maiming another day. In the meantime, he’s got a task to complete. Merciless swiftly locates the necessary spell in the old tome and begins inking a large magic circle into the dusty floorboards. With a flick of his wrist, the still-lit candles levitate into the air and arrange themselves evenly along the outer ring of the circle. Once settled, their orange flames become a soft lilac. He nods to himself. The candles aren’t needed for this spell, but the dark wizard finds no harm in indulging in a little dramatic flair.

“Excellent. Everything appears to be in order,” he murmurs, tethering the book to his side as he inspects the freshly drawn circle and corresponding runes.

Without looking up, he extends a hand in the pup’s general direction and waves in a coaxing gesture. The child emits a strangled shriek as they’re abruptly pulled away from the wall. They come to a jarring stop in front of the necromancer, hovering just an arm’s length away. Their petrified gaze dares to meet his detached scrutiny. Merciless heaves an exaggerated sigh and takes a moment to bask in the boy’s fear.

“Worry not, child,” the necromancer begins, “you will not die alone.” Predictably, this does not put the child at ease. Merciless seizes them by the throat when they open their mouth as if to scream. “Quiet,” he hisses. “How peacefully or how painfully you leave this world depends entirely on how obnoxious you are. Do you understand?”

Merciless eases his hold enough to allow the child to answer. Their mouth works uselessly, the simple “yes” or “no” seemingly trapped behind their own teeth. Ultimately, the pup offers a stilted nod.

The dark wizard releases their throat. “Very good,” he rasps. “I’ll retrieve your friends before those mindless husks get too carried away—I don’t like playing with broken toys, you see—but in the meantime, let’s have a little fun of our own.”

He firmly takes the child’s head into his hands, forcing them to make eye contact. Their pupils constrict under the flare of his glowing gaze, then they slowly begin to dilate. The child’s eyes are now glassy, irises unnaturally still, like that of a doll. Merciless relinquishes his hold on the boy’s skull. He smirks in silent victory when they do not look away.  

Should he pick the pup apart? Or should he cut to the chase? Merciless takes a moment to peer into the youth’s eyes, searching for anything noteworthy. A beat passes. Two. The wizard hums with dull interest. It appears his victim-to-be has some latent magic capability, but as a whole, they are unremarkable. He doubts their personality is any different. With that, Merciless decides to forgo analyzing the child and simply claim what he is owed.

“Tell me, pup,” he begins, tone commanding, “What is it you fear more than—?”

The question hangs in the air, incomplete, as the necromancer’s attention is drawn elsewhere. Two new (yet oddly familiar) energies have just set foot on the premises. At first, he thinks it may be the true owners of the property—the parents of one of the children, perhaps—but neither of the two energies share traits with those of the children. What’s more, the two newcomers are much stronger than your average mortal. They burn so brightly that Merciless can hardly detect the energy of the child that fled the house. It suddenly occurs to him that the very same child must have called for help.

He needs to see what he’s up against.

Merciless turns in the direction of the two energies. He raises a halting finger at the pup as they snap out of their trance. “…hold that thought,” he says distantly. Then, without sparing them another glance, he makes an exit.

The dark wizard passes through wall after wall until he finds a window looking out over the front lawn. He carefully draws back the curtain and peers through the slightly smudged glass. The wayward child is facing away from the house, gesturing emphatically as their muffled voice recounts the night’s events to their audience. Across from the Koopa, patiently listening, stands a human male in overalls. At a glance, the mortal seems quite ordinary—someone you’d call if you needed a handy man, not a ghost hunter—but the dark wizard knows otherwise. There is a unique power emanating from this mortal, one that he hasn’t encountered in quite some time.

“A Star Child,” he whispers, almost reverently. A grin stretches his shadowed face. “Oh, it must be my lucky night~” ²

And to think, he almost let that brat send him home.

The human’s head suddenly tilts back. Just before they look toward his window, Merciless vanishes from the visible spectrum. The human stares through him with furrowed brows. For a moment, Merciless wonders if they are somehow able to see him; they have a fair deal of spectral energy surrounding them, after all. However, it mostly seems residual, so it’s unlikely that they have “the sight”. As if to confirm this, the human turns their attention back to the rambling youth, unconcerned.

The dark wizard continues to observe the mortal for a moment more. Star Children are proverbial wells of energy, but just what that power entails varies considerably. He’ll need to get his hands on the mortal to get a better read on it (and, of course, to eventually take it for himself).

The necromancer’s scrutiny turns to a strange device strapped to the human’s back. It’s comprised of red and black plastics and polished metals. Taking up a sizeable portion of the contraption is a clear canister. Presently, there is nothing inside of it. Merciless hums thoughtfully. He has never seen such a device (not that he keeps abreast of the latest technology), but he has a feeling it could pose a problem. He’ll have to find out its purpose, and if it proves to be a threat, its weaknesses. But how? It’s not as if he can ask.

…or can he?

The beginnings of a plan start to form in the dark wizard’s mind. Oh, such trickery! It’s convoluted, mind you, but Merciless finds this to be of little consequence. It’s been far too long since he’s been able to toy with a Star Child; he misses playing with food that can bite back.

The human is making his way to the house now. Merciless suddenly remembers the ward he asked his surly slave to place on the front door. He should remove that. It wouldn’t do if the guest of honor was locked out of their own surprise party! He begins to turn away from the window when a white glow catches his eye—it’s the second energy source he had detected.

He had nearly forgotten.

The glow is from the ethereal light given off by spectral beings. Based on the energy’s strength, the entity is a spirit—a powerful one, at that. The spirit has taken the form of a simple canine—unremarkable, much like the human—but their energy betrays their nature. If the necromancer still had a heart, it would have stuttered in his chest.

“A chaos spirit…” ³

There is no reverence in his tone, only thinly veiled fear. He watches as the spectral entity trots happily after the human. The duo exchanges a look before disappearing under the roof’s eaves and out of the necromancer’s line of sight.

The human and chaos spirit are… working together? From what he recalls of his studies, chaos spirits are notoriously fickle creatures. How in Jaydes’ name did this human earn one’s favor?!

Fascinating, but equally troubling. Just what other secrets does this mortal hold?

This doesn’t bode well for his plans, but Merciless is nothing if not adaptable. The unpredictable nature of chaos spirits makes contingencies near-futile. If the necromancer wants to have any chance at claiming the Star Child’s power for himself, he’ll need to remove that troublemaker from the equation.

Merciless perks as he feels the two outsiders enter the home. Apparently, they had the means to break wards on their own (good to know). He waits tensely as they move through the foyer. Relief floods him when the duo pass the staircase and enter an adjacent hallway.

Good. He needs more time to prepare.

With haste, the dark wizard makes his way to the top of the staircase. He places a portal-based enchantment on the landing and makes its exit point the dead end of one of the second story hallways. The necromancer then reaches out in search of the chaos spirit’s energy. Holding on to its unique signature, he amends the enchantment to redirect the chaos spirit to a different exit point: the front door.

Ah, but then the little cantankerous canine will simply pass through the floors and walls, won’t they? Can’t have that! The necromancer places his hand against the nearest wall and strengthens his claim on the property. A simple tweak of the “house rules”. Now, no spectral being can move through his domain’s structures without his permission.

That takes care of that.

Merciless casts another enchantment on the hallway leading to the top of the staircase, making it impossible to enter. Now he doesn’t have to worry about the human fleeing back to the first floor.

An energy signature suddenly vanishes from the necromancer’s senses. One of the feral Vitiates has disappeared, but where? He reaches out to its last known location and finds the energy of the human and chaos spirit lurking nearby. He hums to himself, impressed. It would seem the escaped child’s faith in the human’s ghost-busting capabilities was well placed.

The dark wizard quickly moves on to his next task.  He places more portal-based enchantments at intersecting points in the upstairs hallways, turning the second story into an unsolvable maze of hardwood and plaster. Merciless has the foresight to enchant the windows as well, in case the human gets desperate in their search for an escape. For laughs, he places the exit-point on an ugly painting of a meadow in one of the inner-most halls (something about the art piece feels mocking, but he can’t begin to explain why).

Two new energies appear on the front lawn of the dark wizard’s temporary domicile. One appears to be an ordinary mortal saturated in residual spectral energy (they must spend a great deal of time in the presence of spirits) and the other is… strange. It shares similarities to that of the human ghost hunter, but it is definitely not mortal. Curious—very curious—but the necromancer doesn’t have time to investigate.

The maze of enchantments is set. He has taken the necessary precautions to ensure that the human stays put, and that the chaos spirit cannot interfere. But is it enough to get the information he wants? He can only learn so much from watching the mortal wander in endless circles. Perhaps he should add an obstacle or two—some sort of distraction.

Well, the human didn’t seem to have trouble breaking the ward on the front entrance, but how would he handle other door-based traps?

Inspired, Merciless untethers the spell book from his side and flips through its weathered pages. He darts up and down the halls (unaffected by the enchantments), referring to the tome’s magic as he crafts door constructs of varying purpose. Some are rigged to lash out at whomever grasps their handle, others are portals that open to randomized locations. He’ll have to ensure that the human doesn’t attempt to enter these portals, but the negligible risk is worth whatever reaction the mortal may have to his little mad house. Once the doors are placed, he conceals them from view with a simple spell. He doesn’t want to overwhelm the human right out of the gate! The doors will show themselves when the time is right.

With that done, the necromancer ponders what else he may add to enrich his prize’s enclosure. The door constructs and endless maze will certainly stimulate the mind, but what of the body? What more do you give a caged animal? But of course! A playmate!

What is a maze without a minotaur?  

Of course, he wouldn’t use an actual minotaur—that might be a little much—but the concept remains the same. Fortunately, Merciless already has a suitable substitute in mind. It’s time he made his stick-in-the-mud of a knight have some fun for once.

Merciless quickly makes his way back to the room where he was summoned, idly flipping through the spell book as he goes. Such a range of magic this old tome has! Quality penmanship and illustrations, too. He’ll have to ask the dog boy where they got it before he kills them.

Speaking of which…

When Merciless returns to the dusty storage room, he finds his armored servant having a hushed conversation with the levitating pup (had he left them floating there all this time? Oops), though “conversation” might be a generous description. He can hear the echoing rasp of his knight, but the child isn’t saying much of anything—just staring back with furrowed brows and mouth slightly agape. Either way, they look confused, not afraid. Has his servant always been this inept at scaring children?

The pup’s eyes flit over the knight’s shoulder and meet his own. Terror replaces befuddlement. Merciless finds the change invigorating.

“Apologies for the sudden departure,” the necromancer begins. He nearly sounds sincere. “Some unexpected guests arrived, and I needed to set up the necessary accommodations. I am many things, but a poor host is not one of them.”

Confusion returns to the boy’s face. Something like apprehension briefly flickers in his servant’s eyes.

“Did you feel it too?” he asks the knight, feeling giddy. “I could scarcely believe it. A Star Child! When was the last time we encountered one of those? One hundred? Two hundred years ago? My, how the time flies.”

The knight’s hands clench into fists. The pup looks like they want to ask a question, but wisely keep their mouth shut.

“Even stranger, they have a chaos spirit with them!” he continues. “Have you ever heard of such a thing? Absolutely incredible, if not inconvenient. But I’ve taken the appropriate precautions, so they shouldn’t be a problem.”

His servant doesn’t have anything to say to that, either.

Two more Vitiates disappear from his senses (one of them just seemed to… leave. Maybe they’re not all brain dead after all). Only one of the feral husks remains. Merciless needs to hurry if he wants to implement the next part of his plan before the human arrives.

“Hm. The Star Child is making quick work of the husks; it’s only a matter of time until their path crosses ours.” He looks down at the still-open spell book. “Now, my little silent knight, I need you to—”

“No.”

Merciless freezes. That hadn’t been his servant’s voice. The temperature of the room dips several degrees as he raises his head and locks eyes with the child.

“…I beg your pardon?” he hisses icily.

The boy swallows nervously, eyes flitting between the dark wizard and his stoic servant. They take a composing breath. “P-put me down!”

The command catches him off-guard. So much so, that the summoning contract’s magic takes hold, and he obeys. The child drops to the floor with a startled yelp. Silence reigns for several beats.

How in Jaydes’ name…?

Merciless looks to his servant. Though their helmet hides all but their glowing red eyes, he can detect the smug satisfaction plain as day. Oh, the sheer audacity of this knight! That hushed conversation wasn’t a poor attempt at eliciting fear from the boy, it was to instruct them. His servant must have told the child about the summoning contract.

The dark wizard should be furious—and he is—but he can’t help but feel a little impressed. Enslaved for over six hundred years, and yet the knight still finds ways to defy him. Such a rebellious spirit! He admires it as much as he loathes it.

“Clever, clever,” he chuckles darkly. “I should have known you’d try something.”

“Yes,” the knight rasps, finally deigning to speak, “you should have.”

Oh, he is going to do so much worse than tear off his slave’s eyelids.

The child has since recovered from their abrupt fall. They quickly scramble to their feet and point a shaking finger at the seething necromancer. “Go away!” they shout, voice cracking with fear, “and never come back!”

It’s hard to hold onto the heat of one’s boiling rage when staring down a sniveling puppy. Even a cat person must admit it’s kind of cute, seeing the little furball bark at something bigger and much stronger than itself. So innocent.

So stupid.

“You should have led with that, child,” he says dryly. “Your first command only worked because you had caught me unaware.”

It’s the truth. With his power, he can easily resist the summoning contract’s influence. The boy would have to weaken him significantly if they wanted to have any hope of gaining his compliance.

Merloathe quirks a hidden brow at his servant. “I hope for your sake that wasn’t the extent of your grand plan.”

The pup looks afraid, but to the necromancer’s growing irritation, his servant appears unperturbed by the failure. They turn to the pup and nod, almost encouragingly. The child nods back with some uncertainty. Then, without looking away from the traitorous knight, they once again point a shaking finger at the necromancer.

“D-don’t listen to any of the wizard’s orders.”

…what?

“Now go beat him up!”

The knight’s head snaps toward their admittedly gawking master, two battle-axe constructs forming in their hands. A joy unlike any Merloathe has ever seen flashes in their eyes.

“With pleasure.”

He doesn’t think he’s ever heard them sound that happy, either. It’s the last observation he makes before the knight is upon him. An axe slashes at the necromancer’s face in a wide arc. He rears back in time to avoid a direct hit, but a few hair strands from his ghostly mustache aren’t so lucky. They flutter in the weapon’s wake before vanishing in a fine mist. The necromancer’s eyes widen marginally. Miniscule though it was, the axe construct had managed to connect—something that shouldn’t be possible by his own decree, and yet, by the child’s orders, it had.

For the first time in decades, the dark wizard’s servant has the capacity to do him harm.

‘Oh, that devious little ingrate!’ Merloathe thinks as he narrowly dodges another swipe. The knight had never expected the child to be able to control him. No, the knight knew their best chance was to utilize contract hierarchy. The child had summoned them both, meaning they ultimately had the most authority. In other words, the boy was king, and the king’s word was law; their orders trumped all others. The dark wizard was strong enough to resist them, but the knight obeyed with enthusiasm.

The simple solution here is to kill the metaphorical king. It would solve the unruly knight problem, certainly, but then the rest of his plans would be brought to a premature end. That won’t do, not at all. Merloathe will have to think of something else. In the meantime, he needs to find a way to keep his slave from further collusion—a problem that wouldn’t exist if he had just cut out the knight’s tongue at the first instance of back-talk.

…back-talk.

Hm. Now there’s an idea…

Instead of dodging the next blow, the necromancer deflects it with a hastily summoned wall of energy. He then turns the defensive move into one of offense, slamming it against the relentless knight and shoving them back. With a more comfortable distance between them, Merloathe deems it safe enough to turn his attention to the child (but keeping his servant in his peripheral). Carefully telegraphing his movements, he begins to call forth the element of lightning. The sniveling pup cowers at his small display of power.

With a flourish, Merloathe sends the relatively weak attack arcing toward the pup. He has no intention to truly harm the boy (yet), but his servant doesn’t know that. Just as he had hoped, the knight throws themselves into the attack’s path and takes the hit. They writhe in place, form flickering as they work to disperse the sudden excess energy. Merloathe quickly takes up the spell book and flips through the pages at an unnatural speed. In record time, he finds a hex suitable for his purposes.

Oh yes, this will do quite nicely.

The knight recovers from the electrical overload, but not before Merloathe has uttered the final line of the incantation. Its effects are immediate, though not visually apparent. His servant brings a hand to their throat as if to soothe it. They look positively dumbstruck.

“G̀n͏íl͏ee͜f̴ s͢ih̸t̕ si t̨a̛hw—” The knight cuts themself off, confusion morphing into horror. “…e̕ciǫv͡ ̀y̸m.” Horror quickly becomes anger. “Eńo̷d͢ ͡u͠o̷ỳ e͜vah͘ ͞t͟ahw̸?!” ⁴

“Marvelous! What a fun little spell.” The dark wizard grins wickedly. “I suppose I could have chosen a hex that would render you mute, but something tells me you will find this alternative much more infuriating.”

As usual, the dark wizard is proven correct. His servant unleashes a furious snarl and moves to lunge forward. Merloathe twirls a wrist, calling a small orb of fire into being.

“Now, now,” he tuts, “there’s no need to get heated about it.”

Merloathe thrusts out the fire-wielding hand, sending the burning projectile toward the wide-eyed pup. The knight is forced to abandon their attack in favor of defending their sole means of defiance. With impressive speed, they conjure an axe construct and cut through the compressed flame. The necromancer lashes out again, this time with a bolt of lightning. Now that they are in closer proximity to their charge, the knight takes a more pragmatic approach to protecting the boy that doesn’t require self-sacrifice—they tackle him to the floor.

“Hey, buddy,” the child groans from their prone position, “You’re supposed to beat him up, not me.”

“Daed̡ ͢ro̷ d̨esi̶ųrb e̶b r̸e̶htar͝ ̴uoy ̵d̨l͜uo͞w̶?” his servant snaps.

“…what?”

The dark wizard cackles as he conjures another bolt of lightning. He haphazardly casts it in the boy’s direction as he levitates the spell book before him. With one hand, he flips through the tome’s pages, and with the other, he laxly targets the child with alternating elements of fire and lightning. Finally, Merloathe turns to the page containing the spell that sparked this night’s events.

It's time he called in some back-up.

The necromancer continues his volley of attacks as he begins to read the summoning spell. He’s halfway through the incantation when he feels the child’s fear suddenly spike.

“Oh Grambi, no,” the boy gasps. “Armored guy! The hooded guy is reading the same spell I used to summon you guys! You gotta stop him!”

Merloathe must admit, he’s rather impressed that the boy recognized the spell. Especially since he doubts the little mutt even understands the archaic words they had so ignorantly spoken earlier that night (surely, they wouldn’t have read them aloud otherwise). The feeling is dwarfed by annoyance. He briefly glances up from the book to find his irksome knight conjuring a row of spear constructs—all poised to brutally impale him.

Thank Jaydes the necromancer is a fast reader.

He hastily dismisses the fire ball he had primed to cast and calls forth a wall of energy to deflect the spear constructs. But, skilled as Merloathe is, even he cannot perform magic with divided attention without consequence. Focused as he is on the summoning spell, the strength of the shield suffers in its consistency. Most of the spear constructs ricochet harmlessly off the condensed energy’s surface. One, however, slips through like a fish in a poorly woven net, and embeds itself in the dark wizard’s shoulder.

Well. There goes his good mood.

It’s a testament to the necromancer’s discipline that he doesn’t immediately cry out in pain. Through sheer force of will, he grits out the final words and completes the spell. Merloathe locks eyes with his rebellious servant, cackling madly as yet another dark entity is pulled into the boy’s home. The Vitiate forced to answer his call is a Clubba, and a large one at that. It looms over the knight, growling in challenge as its malice poisons the air. The boy beholds it with terror. His knight looks upon it with disgust.

“Ḑr͞a͜w̴oc̴!” The knight spits, cutting a hand through the air. “Fl̷esr̕uo͘y e͏m͏ t͜h͝gi̛f̧ dna ͡ts̢aeb r͟uoy̕ ͜ffo̸ l̢l̢ac!”

“Come now, my dear knight; don’t be jealous,” the dark wizard purrs. “I’m cross with you, yes, but I have no intention of replacing you with this brute.” He pulls the spear from his shoulder in a sharp motion and drops it carelessly to the floor. He doesn’t spare the construct or his wound a second glance. “I need a minotaur for my maze, and I simply don’t have time to wait for you to finish with your tantrum.”

The knight snarls in rage. It certainly sounds like a tantrum, the dark wizard muses. As if spurred by the thought, his servant launches themselves across the room, red eyes locked onto the amused necromancer. A silent command prompts the Clubba to intercept. His knight now occupied, Merloathe returns his attention to the book.

He still needs another pawn for his plans.

The necromancer turns to a different type of summoning spell. A dark entity, such as a Vitiate, would not be suitable for the role he has in mind. If he wants to fool the Star Child, he’ll need a spectral being capable of some measure of subtlety. Ideally, the dark wizard needs a shape shifter. Duplighosts are simple enough to control, but they aren’t the best actors. He wracks his brain for a more competent species to call upon.

A wayward axe construct skims his hood as it whizzes past, fabricated metal singing loudly in his ear. Merloathe growls lowly. It appears he doesn’t have the time or the luxury to be picky. The Duplighost will have to do. One weapon deflection and hastily read incantation later, yet another spectral entity enters the playing field.

Merloathe casually waves a hand at the pitiful caricature of a ghost, nudging it to the side milliseconds before multiple spear constructs can impale it. The Duplighost warbles in distress. It looks between the dueling Vitiates and its summoner, eyes wide with terror. The dark wizard sneers at the quivering spirit—pathetic.

“Listen well, you lackluster linen pile, as I loathe to repeat myself,” he hisses. “There is a spirit in the form of a canine on the floor below us. I want you to find it, copy its appearance, and return to this floor without being seen. It is imperative that you are not spotted until after the human ascends the stairs. Understand?”

The Duplighost nods emphatically.

“When you return,” Merloathe continues, “you are to find that runt—” he points at the child attempting to slip past the grappling Vitiates. “—and stay with them. Guard them, and make sure they are found by the human. Follow the human’s instructions so long as they don’t contradict my own or interfere with my plans.” The dark wizard leans in marginally. “If you fail me, I will unravel you until your thread count matches your IQ. Do I make myself clear?”

Duplighosts are not made of fabric, but the cowering spirit wisely doesn’t correct him. If anything, this somehow makes the threat more unsettling. Again, the Duplighost nods their assent.

Merloathe mirrors their nod. “Good. Now leave.”

They don’t need to be told twice. In the blink of an eye, the Duplighost is gone. Merloathe huffs with exasperation. His latest minion doesn’t inspire much confidence, but there isn’t much he can do about that now.

He turns his focus back to the boy. Perhaps sensing the sudden unwanted attention, the child looks in his direction. They freeze as they lock eyes with the necromancer. Merloathe grins as he feels the boy’s fear abruptly spike.

Speaking of uninspiring minions…

The necromancer fades from the visible spectrum with a dark chuckle. He revels in the child’s ever-growing terror as they turn their head this way and that in a vain attempt to locate him. Unseen, the dark wizard glides across the room and around the combat bound Vitiates. He circles so he is behind the quivering pup. The temperature abruptly plummets at his command. Startled by the rapid change, the pup whirls around only to be seized by the collar of his jacket. Merloathe fades back into view.

“You are very fortunate that you have use beyond that of a living battery,” he growls lowly. “Unfortunately for the both of us, that purpose involves a little… pup-petry.”

The child looks like they can’t decide whether to cry for help or address the menacingly delivered pun. He doesn’t give them time to choose. In the span of a breath, Merloathe darts forward and blankets the child’s mind with his dark presence. His influence quickly spreads not unlike that of a deadly virus. There’s a brief struggle for control, but the boy’s pitifully weak will crumples beneath his own.

The first step is complete.

From here, things become a little more complicated. Merlignant has no idea how apt the Star Child is at spotting signs of possession, so it’s best to play it safe and take a more subdued approach. Letting a host keep the reins draws less attention and doesn’t require the draw of power needed for complete control. The dark wizard can focus that energy on influencing his host’s thoughts—a guiding hand, not an iron fist. People tend to be alarmingly open to the power of suggestion when they believe the idea to be their own.

Passive possession, however, is not without its drawbacks. Strong-willed hosts are difficult to manipulate and a struggle to hold on to, but even weak-willed hosts pose their own challenges. If they are aware of the paranormal presence cloaking their consciousness, then they are less trusting of their own thoughts and lose their pliability. Merlignant faces this very circumstance, but it is of no consequence. He isn’t just capable of manipulating thoughts.

He can manipulate memories.

It’s a simple enough task for a sorcerer of his caliber. The dark wizard scrubs through the boy’s mind, plucking out memories that could prove problematic and locking them away. The memory of the child’s possession is the first to go. It would be foolish to let the child remember the summoning contract, so that goes too. Now that he thinks about it, the pup shouldn’t remember allying with his rebellious knight, either. What else… Ah! He had mentioned the Star Child and parts of his plan, hadn’t he? Definitely can’t leave that as is.

Merlignant continues his tweaks and omittance until he is satisfied with the resulting patch work. Perhaps unwisely, he allows the boy to remember the two new entities brought into the playing field. If the boy tells the Star Child about them, well, it will just keep them on their toes, won’t it? Besides, he’s come to learn the pup couldn’t identify the Duplighost, and that’s the only one he’d be worried about revealing.

It feels like minutes, but the process takes mere seconds to complete. The necromancer turns their sight outward and beholds the dueling Vitiates. His knight is expertly deflecting the Clubba’s blows, but their focus is not on the brute. Merlignant grins darkly as their furious gaze meets his own. They must have seen him take control of the mutt. Good. The wayward knight now knows to be mindful of their attacks, lest they kill their precious king.

Merlignant has the boy clasp their hands behind their back as he regards the Clubba keeping his knight at bay. It suddenly occurs to him that the behemoth hasn’t been issued their prime directive. He needs to fix that. But first…

“Restrain the knight,” he says crisply.

The order is given with the child’s obnoxious voice, but it carries the necromancer’s influence all the same. Without the slightest hesitation, the Clubba abandons their relentless assault and grapples the armored Koopa. The knight, thrown by the brute’s abrupt change in tactics, fails to evade their opponent’s grasp. They hiss and spit with anger as they struggle to escape the Clubba’s hold.

“Much better. Now we can speak like civilized adults.” Merlignant is distantly amused by the adolescent crack in his borrowed voice as he says this. “My oafish Minotubba—” he pauses. “…Clubbatour?” he tries instead. “Still not great, but I suppose it will suffice.”

The Clubba stares at him blankly.

“My brawny Clubbatour, I need you to stay here and protect this circle—” he points the boy’s paw at the magic circle below the Vitiate’s hovering forms. “—from interlopers. Namely a human garbed in green. You may rough him up a bit but do not kill him. I need the human alive, understand?”

More blank staring. Jaydes below, there really is nothing going on in that head, is there? Merlignant doesn’t hear turning cogs so much as the plink! of a single marble being dropped in a ceramic bowl. When the metaphorical marble settles, the Clubba minutely inclines its head with a huff. Not very reassuring as far as affirmations go, but he’ll take it.

The necromancer abruptly perks as he detects a presence ascending the staircase to the second floor. He is both disappointed and relieved that it isn’t the Star Child (his prize at present appears to be tangling with the final husk from the first summoning). Instead, it is the odd energy he was unable to identify from before—the one that nearly mirrors the Star Child. Looks like he’ll finally get to investigate.

But first, he’s got to get the boy away from his pesky knight.

“It appears our first challenger is about to enter the arena,” he murmurs, throwing a distracted glance over his shoulder. He looks back at the Clubba. “Remember my instructions. Keep the knight here as long as you can, but if he breaks free, do not leave your post to pursue him.”

The necromancer gets an acknowledging snort for his troubles. He nods to himself and checks the boy’s consciousness. They’re still completely out of it. Satisfied that the child remains blissfully unaware, he drifts into the back of the boy’s mind and eases his hold on their metaphorical strings. Once he’s settled, he releases the reins, and they snap back into place. The boy is in control once more.

The boy is also still unconscious, so they immediately collapse to the floor in a heap.

Oops.

Merlignant nudges the boy back into wakefulness. “Nudge” may not be the right word; it’s more of an impatient shove that startles the pup into stirring. They push themselves off the dusty floorboards with a gasp. The pup twists frantically in place as they search for an unseen danger. It takes a moment for their jumbled thoughts to arrange themselves into something coherent, but when they do, Merlignant is pleased to find his alterations of the boy’s memories have held. As far as the pup knows, the “hooded ghost” and the “armored ghost” had been fighting over the spell book (a fun detail he fabricated), the armored ghost was injured in the scuffle, and then two new spectral entities were summoned. They are uncertain of the hooded ghost’s fate and completely unaware of the dark presence nestled in their mind.  

Perfect.

Less than perfect is the pained roar coming from the Clubba. The child’s head snaps up in time to see the behemoth reel back and clutch at their face. Apparently, the necromancer’s tricky servant had taken advantage of the Clubbatour’s drifted attention and headbutted the beast. Now free from their hold, the knight whirls on the wobbly youth, an axe construct forming in their hand as they affix the boy—no, the necromancer—with a glare full of pure hatred.

Oh dear.

“D͜li̷hc, l͟lit̨s ͜dl̀oh,” the knight rasps, “et́is̨a̷r͞ap r͟uo̕y ̵fó uo̢y di͢r͠ ͜I͞ ͠el̷ih̶ẁ.”

“…come again?”

Stars, this child has the survival instincts of a sack of grain. Must he do everything? With the urgency befitting someone at the mercy of a lunatic hefting an axe, Merlignant projects feelings of danger! threat! run! until the boy finally scrambles to his feet. They only manage to take two steps back when the child’s feet catch on something, and they tumble to the floor. The dark wizard’s fury at the boy’s graceless maneuvering is quickly doused upon identifying what tripped them.

It's the spell book.

Merlignant curses silently at himself. He must have dropped the tome when he took possession of the pup. Unavoidable though it was, Merlignant cannot excuse his carelessness in forgetting to reclaim the book at the first opportunity. He attempts to amend the error—quietly urging the child to pick up the book and run—but the knight is looming over them now, weapon raised. They can’t afford to lose the precious seconds it would cost to make a grab for the book. The thought of leaving the tome behind stings, but the necromancer reminds himself it is only temporary; he’ll get it back soon enough. It’s a small comfort that the knight won’t be able to make use of it—not so long as they’re hexed. Merlignant reluctantly rescinds the suggestion to retrieve the tome and urges his host to run.

The boy complies with vigor.  

With an undignified yelp, the child is back on their feet and rushing to the exit. An angry cry follows as his servant attempts to pursue them, only to be intercepted by the Clubbatour once more. The boy takes the stairs two at a time as they descend to the second floor from the attic. They burst through the door at the bottom and out into the narrow hall. The child risks a glance over their shoulder. They shriek at the sight of the knight flying down the steps uninhibited, axe construct in one hand and (to the necromancer’s surprise) the spell book in the other. Merlignant suddenly regrets ordering his Clubbatour to not pursue the knight; this could get ugly.

At his silent urging, the pup puts in an extra burst of speed. All they need to do is make it to where the halls intersect—the enchantment will take it from there. Just when Merlignant thinks his knight is about to catch them, he feels the enchantment take hold. The boy stumbles to a stop when they nearly run into the wall at a dead end. Terror turns to confusion as the boy tries to process what just happened. They suddenly whirl around as if just remembering that they were being pursued by an angry ghost. Their confusion only grows when they find the hall behind them empty.

Success!

Merlignant is content to let the boy wander from there, snickering silently as they become more frantic in their search for the stairs leading to the first floor. Excellent. So far, all the enchantments are working marvelously.

He keeps tabs on the mysterious energy source and his wayward knight as they go, occasionally manipulating the enchantment to keep them from crossing paths with the aimless child. Merlignant watches curiously as the enchantment eventually puts the two energies in the same hall. His knight slowly approaches the unknown energy source, but from what he can discern, they don’t go on the attack. Nothing happens for quite some time, and it makes the necromancer uneasy. If the two aren’t fighting, then what are they doing? The hex he placed on his servant will make collusion difficult, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.

Merlignant adjusts the enchantment at the next intersection to put the pup in the same hall as the potential conspirators. It’s risky, letting the knight get close to his host again, but so is allowing them an opportunity to gain an ally. Besides, it’s about time he meets this strange, new interloper. How exciting!

Let the fun begin.

Chapter Text

For a heartbeat, there is no air to breathe. Hot and cold do not exist. All he feels is weightlessness. All he knows is absence. Then, in a rush, it all comes back. Bitter cold is the first thing to assault Luigi’s senses. It startles a gasp out of him, ears popping as he gulps in a precious breath of oxygen. The air tastes stale and damp; earthy, like a cave. He isn’t given the time to truly process the distant observation. Gravity seizes Luigi from his magical suspension with brutal jealousy, pulling him back to solid ground.

Luigi yelps as he lands in a graceless heap, the cry more from surprise than any actual pain. A wet splat! punctuates the sound milliseconds later. Apparently Gooigi’s landing wasn’t any softer.

Luigi lies still for a moment, dazed by the abrupt teleportation. He keeps his eyes closed as he waits for the dizzy spell to pass. As an afterthought, he lightly clenches his hands and wiggles his toes. Everything seems to be in working order. No new injuries, and most importantly, nothing is missing. With that settled, Luigi reluctantly opens his eyes, only to be met with darkness.

Well. That certainly isn’t good.

“Gooigi,” he calls softly, “are you okay?”

A disgruntled gurgle sounds off somewhere behind him. It would have been an eerie thing to hear in the darkness for anyone else, but for Luigi, it’s almost comforting—familiar.

“I feel like astronaut food,” the ectomorph warbles.

Luigi’s brows pinch together in bewilderment. “Astronaut food?” he parrots, uncertain if he heard his partner correctly. “What does that feel like?”

“Gross and unfortunate.” Luigi snorts quietly, finding the ectomorph’s attempt at levity oddly reassuring. “What about you?”

“That depends. Is it dark in here?”

“Like a moonless night.”

Luigi sighs with relief. “Well then, unless we’ve both been rendered blind, I think I’m just peachy.”

It falls silent for a moment. The distant drip of water is the only other noise save for Luigi’s soft breathing. Then, rather abruptly, the relative quiet is shattered by what Luigi can only describe as the squelch of yogurt straining through cheesecloth. It sounds like the ectomorph has managed to break free of their fibrous prison. Luigi takes this as his cue to get up as well. He finds he isn’t very surprised when the once-constricting sheet unravels with little resistance.

Luigi cautiously stands and switches on his flashlight with veiled trepidation. The plumber is instantly blinded by the neon green reflection of his partner’s gelatinous body, casting the immediate area in an ambient, green glow. He swiftly redirects the cone of light toward the floor, blinking away the spots in his vision. Once his sight is clear, Luigi slowly points the beam of his flashlight to the wall on his left.

Instead of wood planks and dusty trunks, Luigi is met with faintly damp stone blocks and the occasional empty prison cell. He continues to scope the area, revealing the opposite wall to be much of the same. The ceiling is a featureless slab of rock, and the floor is cobbled stone.

“Are we... in a dungeon?" Gooigi asks.

Luigi sweeps the beam into an adjacent cell, letting the cone of light linger on a dusty Koopa skeleton propped against the wall. He grimaces. “It would seem so.”

The ectomorph hums thoughtfully. Luigi shoots him a curious look. “After setting up such an elaborate trap, I thought our evil wizard friend would be more creative. And more competent.” Gooigi waves a hand toward one of the few prison cells that appears to be locked. “Captain Convoluted didn’t even imprison us properly.”

Luigi quirks a brow, marginally amused. “You can squeeze through bars.”

“He doesn’t know that!”

“Your body has the consistency of gelatin. I think it can be inferred.”

Gooigi groans his displeasure. “Fine, whatever, but you can’t slip through bars, so why didn’t he lock you up?”

Luigi frowns. That… is a good point. He peers down the dreary dungeon corridor—both ways—and fails to see any sign of the dark wizard. Worse yet, there’s no sign of Dane, either.

With startling abruptness, Luigi recalls their final moments in the teenager’s dusty attic— his desperate attack on the wizard, the blinding light and concussive boom of thunder. Had Luigi successfully landed a hit? Or did the wizard Vitiate manage to deflect his electrical onslaught? Either way, something must have gone wrong for all the circle’s occupants to not end up in the same precise location.

“I… don’t think this was our intended destination,” he says at last.

“Like I said, the wizard is incompetent,” Gooigi signs. “I’d gloat, but we did still technically get caught, so that’s a bit of a blow to the ego.”

Luigi winces. “This might actually be more my fault,” he admits slowly. “I, uh, sort of used the Thunderhand on the wizard right as the teleportation magic activated.”

Gooigi stares at him blankly (a subtle change, given their perpetually neutral expression). “You… attacked the spellcaster… while they were in the middle of triggering a magic circle.”

“…I was trying—”

“A circle that we were occupying,” the ectomorph continues. “A circle that utilizes teleportation magic. You know, the kind that needs the utmost focus to use safely?!”

“My timing was off, okay?” Luigi says defensively. “I was trying to hit him before he finished the spell.”

“Yeah, well, mission failed successfully. Now the kid and weird wizard are who-knows-where and we’re stuck in a place that makes Bowser’s dungeons look welcoming.”

“…how do you know what Bowser’s dungeons look like?”

“Irrelevant.”

Luigi sighs. “Look, they must be somewhere nearby. As you so helpfully pointed out, we were all in the same circle. We wouldn’t end up too far from each other even if the spell was botched.”

“Great, we’re back at square one,” Gooigi groans. “I swear, if this dungeon is enchanted like the hallways were, when we find that maniac magician, I’m going to stuff him into a portrait prison with my bare hands and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Stop you? I’ll be holding the frame.” Luigi folds his arms, keeping the beam of the flashlight pointed at their feet. “But I doubt we’ll have to deal with teleporting enchantments since the wizard wasn’t planning on us being here.”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough. Where should we start looking?”

Luigi’s eyes drift downward in thought. It is then he spots The Witch lying on the ground just off to the side. The device is powered down but appears to be intact—not a scuff or crack to be found. He stares at it for a moment, surprised by its presence, before it occurs to him that the device had also been in the magic circle. It would have been stranger if it had remained behind. Luigi leans over with the intent to retrieve it.  

A dark blur abruptly darts between their feet, startling a yelp out of Luigi. He quickly turns in the direction it ran, the Poltergust’s wand at the ready. His flashlight cuts through the dense shadows of the adjacent prison cell just in time to reveal a rat scurrying into a crack in the wall. Luigi’s shoulders sag minutely in relief, but almost immediately tense when his paranormal partner cackles at his expense.

“Jumpy, are we?”

“After everything we’ve experienced tonight?” Luigi growls. “Very.”

Gooigi raises his hands in silent surrender. Luigi snaps up The Witch and puts it away. He pointedly turns from his partner with a grumble, glaring at the rodent’s hideout as if it had insulted him. Luigi warily passes the light from one corner of the cell to the other in search of other potential surprises. He finds nothing; it’s completely empty. Feeling foolish, he begins to turn back to Gooigi when his brain fully processes the observation.

“Gooigi,” he whispers, voice strained, “wasn’t there a Koopa skeleton in this cell earlier?”

The ectomorph joins Luigi in their scrutiny. A moment later, something like alarm radiates through their shared connection.

“…Uh-oh.”

Luigi freezes, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He whirls around, coming face to face with the reanimated remains of a Koopa Troopa. The creature reels back at the sudden, blinding light, its jaw clicking in agitation as it raises an arm to shield its face. Bones yellowed and cracked with age hover unnaturally in place, held together by an ancient magic few could even begin to understand. Pin pricks of smoldering light flicker in its empty eye sockets like dying embers, and air wheezes weakly through its mouth and nasal bone in a sick parody of breathing. Luigi’s eyes widen fearfully at a sudden realization.

This isn’t an ectoplasmic construct or an illusion. It’s a real Dry Bones. The Poltergust is useless against them.

‘Does that work on monsters, too?’

‘It can’t capture them if that’s what you mean.’

Luigi suddenly recalls the exchange with painful clarity. How the Dark Koopa Vitiate had tried to deter him from answering Dane’s questions—no, the wizard’s questions. The dark entity had been searching for weaknesses and Luigi had offered them up without a second thought.

What other critical information did he recklessly provide?

The horrifying thought distracts him, allowing the revenant to recover from their shock first. It lunges at Luigi with a chilling shriek, tackling the dazed plumber to the floor and subsequently knocking the flashlight from his hand. Luigi catches the creature by the neck, holding it back as its beak viciously snaps inches from his face. A green, gooey foot smashes into the Dry Bones’ skull a second later, sending its head soaring into the darkness. Luigi swiftly shoves its flailing body away and leaps to his feet. He turns to his partner to express his gratitude, but falters at the sight before him.

Luigi’s flashlight, lying forgotten on the floor, is pointing back toward his paranormal partner, illuminating their startled face and revealing an approaching horde of the undead. Reanimated skeletons of many different species—some he doesn’t even recognize—shamble languidly down the corridor. Several creep from open cells, and those trapped in locked chambers merely slip through the bars—bones too large to fit snapping into more accommodating pieces and reforming after passage.

The plumber turns at the sound of shuffling behind him. The headless Dry Bones has disappeared—likely searching for its skull—but many more have taken its place. Dozens upon dozens of eye lights pierce through the darkness, more winking into existence with every passing moment.

They are surrounded. ¹

The plumber’s heart beats wildly in his chest as he frantically tries to think of a plan, mind going blank with growing panic. Luigi conquered his phobia of ghosts, but he still finds himself freezing when faced with other beings that go bump in the night, and that couldn’t be more apparent than right now.

A nudge at his side has Luigi lashing out on reflex. The offender catches the blow, and Luigi is startled to find his partner looking back at him with a carefully neutral expression.

“Burst and Run?" Gooigi says aloud, hands currently occupied.

Luigi blinks dumbly at the suggestion. Then, finally registering the ectomorph’s words, nods in agreement.

“Burst and Run," he repeats back. As the horde descends upon them, Luigi scoops up his flashlight and nods to his partner. “1... 2... 3... now!"

The two ghost hunters simultaneously activate the Burst function of their Poltergusts, sending the undead army flying back several meters in a clatter of bones. Luigi swiftly scans both ends of the corridor, searching for the best escape route. One end is considerably more populated with revenants than the other. Experience tells him that the heavily guarded path leads somewhere he is not wanted—possibly an exit. If the circumstances were different, Luigi would press his luck and brave the horde for freedom, but a kid’s life is on the line, and he has no intention of abandoning them.

Adventurer instincts screaming in protest, Luigi turns and dashes down the path with fewer revenants. Gooigi follows without question. Each time he arrives at intersecting corridors, he chooses the more sparsely populated route. When the undead horde draws too near, Luigi and his paranormal doppelgänger blow them back with another Burst.

“We can’t keep this up forever!” Gooigi shouts over the clambering undead. “Got any bright ideas?!”

Luigi doesn’t answer at first. At the next intersection, he tests his developing theory and attempts to take a corridor dense with the undead. He is rewarded with angry shrieks and more aggressive lunges. He and Gooigi are quick to activate the Burst function and send them back. Luigi then wordlessly changes course to the less crowded path. The horde still attempts to latch onto the ghost hunting duo, but their efforts almost seem lackluster in comparison.

“I do,” Luigi says at last, kicking away the toddling remains of a Bony Beetle. “Haven’t you noticed some corridors are less guarded than others? They’re herding us somewhere. I say we let them.”

“That is the opposite of a bright idea!” Gooigi retorts. “It’s clearly a trap! Why are we letting ourselves be led to our doom?!”

“Because I have a strong feeling the kid will be at our destination. I’ll eat my hat if he isn’t.”

Gooigi is quiet for a moment. “You know what? I think I’m willing to take that risk.”

The garbled words are hardly spoken before a massive set of double doors appear in Luigi’s torchlight. He regards the suspiciously unguarded structure with grim resolve. “Looks like we’re about to find out if the risk was worth it. Keep the horde at bay while I get the door open.”

Gooigi offers a thumbs-up before halting in the middle of the corridor. The ectomorph turns and takes a defensive stance against the encroaching horde. Luigi makes a final sprint to the doorway, holstering the Poltergust’s wand so he may check for paranormal traps. He hovers his hands warily over the rusty iron plating. To his quiet relief, no malicious magic thrums along its surface.

Luigi flinches when his partner activates the Burst function. He glances over his shoulder. Now that they have stopped, the lagging undead have quickly caught up. For every skeleton that is blown away, two more take its place. The ectomorph won’t be able to hold his ground much longer.

Luigi turns his focus back to the doors. There are no handles, so he presses his palms against the cold iron and pushes. He overestimates the strength needed to get the doors to budge—they aren’t as heavy as they look—and winds up falling forward with a surprised squawk. Arms flailing, Luigi stumbles several steps before finally regaining his balance.

A heroic entrance for the ages.

But Luigi doesn’t have time to be embarrassed. His eyes dart about the area, searching for whatever traps may lie instore. Mercifully, the space isn’t shrouded in darkness, making his scrutiny a simpler endeavor. Lit, evenly spaced sconces line the stone walls, easing the harshness of the dungeon’s cooler temperature and bathing every surface in a flickering, golden glow. Luigi is distantly surprised that the fire isn’t the paranormal blues or purples he normally sees when facing specters, but if this dark entity is one for the dramatics (which certainly appears to be the case), chances are that could very well change.

The room itself is circular and fairly large—in a word, open. Luigi makes the latter observation with dismay. It seems tailor-made for, say, a handful of opponents to comfortably duke it out. A boss arena, Mario would call it. The brothers have seen plenty of them in their numerous adventures. Luigi’s self-proclaimed archnemesis, King Boo, is certainly fond of them. In that moment, Luigi finds himself wishing for the familiar theatrics of the ghostly monarch over the enigmatic dark wizard; he vaguely wonders if King Boo would be flattered or offended by the notion.

Speaking of which…

The dark wizard is at the room’s center. His piercing, yellow eyes are currently scanning the open pages of the spell book cradled in his hands. It’s unsettling, in that moment, how much they resemble the wizened Merlon. When their gaze is filled with scholarly curiosity, not sadistic glee. The dark entity’s intense focus is even reminiscent of his dear friend. Luigi couldn’t tell you how many times he’s accidentally surprised Merlon because they were too immersed in their work to notice his presence. The illusion, however, is broken by the almost menacing way the dark entity hovers over a figure lying supine on the cold, stone floor.

It’s Dane.

‘Well,’ an inner voice that sounds suspiciously like Gooigi offers, ‘at least you don’t have to eat your hat.’

The marginally hysterical thought has Luigi turning on his heel, eyes wide as he checks on his paranormal partner. Gooigi is slowly backing his way into the room. The undead horde shambles after him, but to Luigi’s surprise, they don’t cross over the threshold. They shuffle anxiously in place, hissing with thinly veiled irritation. Gooigi dares to turn his focus to Luigi, confused by the strange development. Luigi doesn’t know what to say. Wordlessly, he steps up to his partner and nods at the door. The ectomorph follows his lead. They each warily take a door and slowly ease them closed. A few of the revenants click their jaws angrily at the duo, but otherwise make no move to stop them. The iron doors settle into their frames with a dull thud of finality.

Luigi and his partner exchange a look, a shared thought passing between them. Did they just make a grave mistake?

…the pun was Gooigi’s doing.

Luigi turns back to the dark wizard with a frown. The ghost is still silently reading the book. Luigi’s dread is suddenly dwarfed by irritation. There’s no way the ghost hadn’t heard them come in. At this point, the dark entity must be making a show of ignoring them. Luigi opens his mouth, a scathing quip on the tip of his tongue, but is startled into silence when the dark wizard loudly snaps the spell book shut.

“You know… that little stunt you pulled back there with the lightning wasn’t very nice—or smart, for that matter.” The Vitiate lifts his eyes from the closed tome. “I would have done a better job of restraining you if I had known you’d attempt something so foolish. After I witnessed the backlash you received when dueling my Clubba, I had thought, surely, you wouldn’t call upon that technique again. Shame on me for assuming you’d be reasonable.” He levels Luigi with a glare. “You’re lucky our colliding magic didn’t rip us to pieces.”

“Spare me the lecture,” Luigi retorts. “I already got an earful from my partner.”

“Hm. You’re an audacious one, aren’t you?” the ghost notes dryly. “Tonight has just been brimming with surprises. Like this book for example!” He gives the tome’s cover an affectionate pat. “I wasn’t expecting to find something of such superb quality in the hands of a child. I didn’t think the pup could have given me a better gift.”

As the entity says this, he carelessly drops the heavy book onto Dane’s chest. Luigi winces at the hollow sound. The kid doesn’t react at all—completely out cold.

“That is,” the dark entity continues, languidly drifting towards Luigi and his partner, “until you arrived.”

Luigi watches the approaching entity warily.

The ghost pauses, looking contemplative. “Though I suppose the credit should go to the sniveling whelp that ‘escaped’. He summoned you, did he not?” He hums softly. “Now that I think about it, the brat only escaped because my petty slave let them get away. Imagine how much differently events would have unfolded if my rebellious little knight had just fed and stayed out of my way.” He cackles, eyes glowing with mirth. “Oh, I will never let him live this down.”

“What do you want from me?” Luigi interjects impatiently.

The dark wizard’s mustache twitches. Luigi interprets the reaction as irritation, but when the entity speaks next, it is clear they are amused.  

“That depends,” the Vitiate deflects in a cheeky tone. “What do you have to offer… Star Child?”

Luigi freezes. He stares at the dark wizard in wide-eyed shock. It’s been years since he’s heard anyone mention the celestial label, and even longer since he’d been addressed as such. How in Stars’ name did the dark entity know about him? Luigi may have shared one factoid too many this dreary night, but his identity as a Star Child certainly wasn’t one of them.

“Uh…” Gooigi warbles, glancing between his partner and the ghost, “What the gunk is a Star Child?”

The wizard Vitiate tilts his head marginally, giving Luigi an appraising look. “You didn’t tell it?” He muses aloud. Gooigi squawks indignantly at their blatant degradation. “Goodness, I didn’t know it was supposed to be a secret. My most sincere apologies for letting the Blitty out of the bag.”

“I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret.” Luigi refutes. He gives Gooigi an apologetic look. “It just… hasn’t really come up.”

“Until now,” the wizard finishes unhelpfully. Then, to Gooigi, “But to answer your question, a Star Child is a mortal blessed by the Stars themselves. They are unfathomably rare and carry an extraordinary amount of power. When your master first entered my awareness, I couldn’t believe my luck!” His gaze slides back to Luigi. “Finally, another Star Child to add to my collection…”

Luigi regards the wizard with horror. “Another Star Child?” They had to be lying. If the ghost had gotten to one of the others, he surely would have heard something.

“Indeed. It’s been at least a century since I’ve encountered the last one, and another handful of decades since the one before that.”  

The revelation is disturbing, but Luigi can’t help but feel some ease in knowing that the others are safe. His shoulders sag minutely before he realizes his mistake in unwittingly telegraphing his relief. Luigi quickly straightens his posture, shoulders taut and expression level, but the damage is already done. The dark wizard homes in on the subtle shift like a blood hound.

“Oh?” the Vitiate purrs. “Did you think I was talking about someone else? A friend of yours, perhaps?” His eyes crinkle with sadistic mirth. “I’d love to meet them.”

“I can’t say the feeling would be mutual,” Luigi retorts, silently berating himself. He doesn’t bother denying the wizard’s implication; he knows he’s an abysmal liar.

“Now, Now, I don’t think that’s a fair assumption. I know I didn’t give you the best first impression, but I believe you’ll find I’m quite well-mannered.”

“Well-mannered?” Gooigi signs with impressive incredulity. “Compared to what, a haunted trash can? I’ve taken etiquette classes, so I know a thing or two about manners and you are the king of faux pas. You’ve been monologuing since minute one and not once have you tried to introduce yourself—not once!”

Luigi shivers as the temperature takes a sharp nosedive into frigid territory. Something murderous radiates from the dark wizard as he stares down Gooigi. His icy glare almost makes the room feel warmer in comparison. Then, just as quickly, the temperature eases into something more tolerable, and the cold fury in the ghost’s eyes retreats.

“Dear me, I believe the green one has a point,” the ghost says at last, not a trace of anger in his inflection. “I seem to have forgotten myself in all the excitement. Please, allow me to start over.” He places a hand to his chest and offers a slight bow of the head. “I go by many names, but you may call me… Merlich.”

Mer… lich? Luigi frowns to himself. He thought liches were undead beings, not ghosts. Perhaps this one gave up their physical form? Is such a thing possible? Luigi isn’t well informed when it comes to a lich’s abilities. According to what little he’s read, they are malevolent masters of dark magic with an insatiable hunger for power and knowledge—intelligent, but utterly insane.

Luigi thinks of the horde of undead shambling outside the room (the dark work of necromancy, no doubt). He reflects on the wizard’s behavior thus far and their glaring interest in Star Children. Yes, the wizard is aptly named, to be sure. Then there is the matter of their moniker’s pre-fix, something that confirmed what Luigi suspected based on the wizard’s appearance.

“You’re a member of Merlon’s tribe…” Luigi says.

Merlich shakes his head with a chuckle. “You’ll need to be more specific; I’ve met many Merlons in my time. It’s more of a title given to those that fill a certain role—the equivalent of naming a pastry chef ‘Baker’ or a security officer ‘Guard’. Our people’s naming conventions certainly leave a lot to be desired.” He regards Luigi curiously. “Though I will admit, I’m surprised that you’re familiar with my kind in any capacity.” His mustache lifts in a grin. “I suppose I don’t need to hold back, then.”

The dark wizard throws his hands to the side, as if parting an imaginary wave, and the massive iron doors fly open with a resounding bang. Luigi and his partner whirl around in time to intercept the sea of revenants pouring through the metaphorical flood gates. The two ghost hunters activate a simultaneous Burst, but the reprieve it grants them is negligible. Their feet have hardly returned to solid ground when the undead are upon them.

Luigi lashes out with swift kicks and punches, but the cumbersome weight and bulk of his Poltergust makes traditional combat awkward. Still, between Bursts, he makes do. A well-aimed kick at a Bony Beetle sends the dusty shell back into the horde, knocking several revenants down like a row of macabre bowling pins. He catches a lunging Dry Monty Mole and throws it at the gaping maw of a Bone Clubba. Luigi narrowly dodges the swipe of a Dark Bones and retaliates with an uppercut. The head snaps off, flying into the swarming undead and vanishing under bony foot. Luigi shakes out his hand when his stinging knuckles protest the strike. He suddenly wishes he was still wearing his gloves. The meager protection would be worth the unpleasant dampness. The time it would take him to retrieve them from his pocket, however, is not.

Luigi isn’t sure how much longer he can keep this up. Dry Bones aren’t particularly strong entities, but they are invulnerable to most attacks and annoyingly persistent. The reanimated skeletons don’t have to out-muscle their victims, all they must do is wear them down, or in this case, overwhelm. Luigi considers utilizing his Thunderhand technique, but quickly dismisses the idea. If he is hit with another backlash, even a weak one, the recovery would leave him vulnerable.

Before Luigi can think of a different strategy, a Dry Guy tackles his legs just as he descends from another Burst, knocking him off balance and sending him to the floor with a yelp. Two Dry Bones surge forward at the sudden opening and latch onto each of the plumber’s arms. Luigi manages to shake one off and elbow away another, but they are quickly replaced by other members of the horde. He moves to repel them as well, only for one to bite painfully into his shoulder. It doesn’t break skin, but the skeleton’s jaw is clamped down hard enough to restrict his arm’s movement.

During his struggle, Luigi happens to spot his partner through the throng of bones. The skeletal entities are trying to seize him as well, but the ectomorph’s gelatinous body merely slips through their bony fingers. It would be funny if the situation wasn’t so dire, and though they can’t restrain him, Gooigi is too focused on keeping his body in one piece to be able to offer any assistance.

“Jaydes below,” Merlich sighs with a near-audible eyeroll. “Must I do everything?”

The dark wizard waves his hands in a circular motion, as if compacting an imaginary snowball. To Luigi’s horror, a globe of water forms in the entity’s hands. It’s no bigger than a small melon—miniscule to most, but more than enough to put Gooigi out of commission. Merlich unceremoniously hurls the elemental orb at the struggling ectomorph. Luigi belatedly cries out a warning to his paranormal partner, but it is too little too late. Surrounded as he is, it is unlikely that Gooigi would have been able to dodge the attack anyway. A gurgle of surprise is the only response the ectomorph is afforded before being liquified.

‘The canister is for protection and recovery, not storage.’

‘Protection from what?’

‘Water, mostly. And if he is hurt badly enough that he can’t maintain form, the Poltergust automatically collects his physical body until he’s able to recover.’

Luigi grinds his teeth against the memory. Once again, his careless offering of information has put them all at great risk. He watches helplessly as the particles from Gooigi’s dissolved body drift toward him, drawn in by the Poltergust’s secondary intake. The hum of the device as it collects the ectomorph is nearly drowned out by the hissing and boney clatter of Luigi’s undead captors.

“Remove the device from the human’s back!” Merlich barks at the nearest revenants. “Quickly now! Before he releases the slime golem from containment!”

‘How does he get out?’

‘There’s a sensor at the bottom of the canister that Gooigi can trigger when he’s ready, but that’s been acting up lately, so I’ve been having to release him manually.’

Luigi wants to scream. Better yet, he wants to go back in time and strangle himself. He might as well have handed the wizard a list of all his weaknesses and spared everyone the tedium that was the enchanted hallway maze.

The Dry Bones currently clamped down on Luigi’s shoulder briefly relinquishes their hold. They paw clumsily at the quick-release mechanism on the Poltergust’s shoulder strap. One of their cohorts scrabbles with the other. Luigi renews his struggle in their laxed grip, but other members of the horde are quick to compensate for their preoccupied comrades. The Poltergust’s straps finally come undone with twin clicks, and the comforting weight of the device is abruptly torn from Luigi’s back.

Merlich beckons to the revenants with a wordless gesture. Two Dry Bones move from Luigi’s peripheral. He watches fretfully as his Poltergust is brought to the dark wizard’s side. Gooigi’s formless body sloshes in the protective canister as the device is carelessly plopped onto the stone floor. The two revenants quickly retreat into the horde when their master approaches his new mechanical prize.

“Fascinating…” Merlich murmurs, running a hand along the Poltergust’s casing. “I never thought I’d see the day when science could match the might of magic.” He turns his gaze back to Luigi. “Wherever did you get the idea for such a device?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” Luigi grunts, straining against his captor’s hold. “You’ll have to ask its creator, and only if you have an afternoon to spare for his response.”

The dark entity chuckles. “I’m over a millennia old, Star Child. One afternoon is nothing to me.”

“You’ve never sat through one of the professor’s lectures.”

Merlich laughs. “I doubt he’s any more long-winded than my own tutors had been. Regardless, my interest is only cursory.” He folds his hands together, regarding Luigi intently. “What I really want to know now, is what makes you tick.”

Luigi gasps in surprise when his skeletal captors abruptly haul him up into a kneeling position. He renews his struggle as the dark wizard approaches. A Dry Bones hisses at Luigi in warning, but he doesn’t yield until one becomes agitated enough to clamp down on his shoulder once more.

“Careful,” the ghost warns belatedly, “they bite.”

Luigi shoots Merlich a nasty glare. An equally nasty retort is at the tip of his tongue when the dark wizard suddenly snags him by the wrist of his left arm. Luigi flinches at the abrupt action, lightning reflexively sparking to life along his hand. The Vitiate squeezes his arm in warning.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that," the wizard tuts, wagging a reprimanding finger. He casually points toward Dane and the Poltergust, a flame flickering to life at the end of his finger like a primed flamethrower. “Play nice or I’ll roast the boy and your little snot goblin."

Luigi grits his teeth, obediently snuffing out the technique before it can build any further. The Vitiate nods their approval and swiftly turns Luigi’s hand palm-up. Merlich holds it steady, examining it with intense scrutiny.

Luigi quirks a brow at the dark wizard. “Wait, are you attempting a palm-reading?” he asks incredulously.

“Not attempting,” the wizard replies, sounding distant, “Doing.”

Luigi scoffs. “I hope you’re not expecting a tip, because I’m not falling for this. I’m not some schmuck at the local fair.”

“Good for you.”

Luigi scowls at Merlich, annoyed, but says nothing further. Just what does the wizard hope to gain from performing a parlor trick?

“Oh my, what do we have here?" the ghost muses. “It appears you’re going to marry a spirit and have eight children.”

Luigi chokes on his own saliva. He splutters at the dark wizard, wide-eyed. “I’m going to what?!”

Merlich cackles obnoxiously, patting Luigi’s hand in a condescending manner. “Just kidding. I’m not even looking at the correct hand for your future. Shows what you know about palm-reading.” ²

Luigi levels Merlich with the mother of all death glares. Unfortunately, its effectiveness is lost on the ghost, who has already returned their gaze to the plumber’s palm.

Merlich tilts Luigi’s hand to get a better look at his thumb. “Hmm… you appear to be strong willed, but it seems this hasn’t always been the case. Your will has been tested before, hasn’t it? Others have tried to bend it to their own.” His mustache lifts in a grin. “Others have… succeeded.”

Luigi narrows his eyes, hoping to hide his unease.

“Clearly, it didn’t last,” the ghost continues. “I wouldn’t be surprised if these experiences inevitably contributed to the fortification of your will. Perhaps that is why you were able to resist my meddling knight. This could be a problem for me...” He shrugs lightly. “No matter. I like a challenge.”

Well, that certainly isn’t ominous.

Merlich adjusts his hold on Luigi’s hand, tilting his head as he continues his examination. “Let’s see... pretty healthy, if not tired. You don’t sleep much, do you? Ah, well, you know what they say—you can sleep when you’re dead! Which is going to happen sooner rather than later, what with your profession.”

“A plumber?"

The wizard lifts their head to meet Luigi’s gaze. “Funny man,” he remarks blithely. Then, with a dark chuckle, “I cannot wait to break you.”

Okay, Luigi must admit, that is definitely alarming. Something tickles at the back of his mind—an urgency. No, not just an urgency. There’s a familiarity, as if he’s heard the wizard’s words before. Perturbed, Luigi wracks his brain as the wizard resumes their scrutiny of his hand.

‘—will break you—'

Luigi winces as he is struck with recollection. That had been one of the knight’s incomplete warnings. What else had the armored ghost said? Something about ‘not looking’ (at what, he has no clue) and ‘guarding his fear’.

Merlich abruptly drops Luigi’s left hand and reaches for his right. Before Luigi can even think to make use of his newly freed limb, it is snatched up in the restricting clutches of another revenant. The Dry Bones clamped down on his right shoulder releases their hold as Merlich grasps Luigi’s right hand.

“Such a prominent fate line,” the dark wizard muses. “I suppose that’s a common trait among Star Children.” Merlich changes his grip and taps at the space just below Luigi’s index finger. “And just look at this ring! I shouldn’t be surprised. You do look the type to have a hero complex.” The wizard looks up at Luigi, eyes glittering with mirth. “It must burn you up inside to come this far, only to fail.”

Luigi affixes the dark wizard with a death glare to end all death glares. He feels a modicum of satisfaction when Merlich fails to hide a shudder. The ghost, however, recovers remarkably quickly.

“That’s quite the glare you have.” Merlich chuckles lowly as he relinquishes his hold. One of his newly unoccupied hands lashes out lightning fast and seizes Luigi by the jaw. “Let me show you mine.”

Yellow eyes peer into blue. The ever-present clatter of bones and rot gradually becomes muted. Luigi feels floaty, like he’s underwater, and all he can seem to focus on is that bright, glowing yellow.

‘—do not look—'

It takes every ounce of willpower, but Luigi manages to squeeze his eyes shut. The ambient sound of the Dry Horde suddenly seems deafening compared to what it was a heartbeat ago. He feels a hundred pounds heavier than he did before, but Luigi finds himself grateful for gravity’s grounding hand.

Merlich growls in frustration. His grip on Luigi’s jaw tightens to the point of painful. Then, quite abruptly, the icy cold grasp of the dark wizard’s hand vanishes.  

“Well now, that’s no fun,” the wizard says with an exaggerated pout. His vile presence feels as if it’s receding. “I suppose I’ll just wake up the mutt and start with him instead. Maybe he’ll be more cooperative…”

The dark wizard is clearly baiting him, Luigi knows this, but a thrill of alarm forces his eyes open anyway. Suddenly, the wizard is back in front of him. Luigi inhales sharply as the dark entity firmly clamps their frigid hands down on either side of his head. He is forced to meet the wizard’s glowing gaze. They are noticeably brighter than before, Luigi thinks. He barely has the chance to blink before his senses dull faster than they did previously. The floating sensation returns, but just as quickly as it comes, it shifts into a harsh drop—something akin to a free-fall. This time, when Luigi attempts to close his eyes, he finds he is unable to.

“There we are,” the wizard purrs. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

While everything around him sounds like it’s under water, Merlich’s voice is clear as day. Luigi decides that he hates this. “What—” he pauses, quietly relieved to find his own voice to be intelligible, if not a little distant, “—what was that?”

“Think of it as the magic-equivalent to having your pupils dilated for an eye exam.” Merlich says flippantly. “Palm-reading only tells me so much. The good stuff is in here.” He withdraws a hand to gesture to his own glowing gaze. “The eyes are the window to the soul. I can learn things about you that you don’t even know about yourself. All I have to do is peer into those big baby blues of yours, but I need you pliant for that.”

As Merlich says this, he pulls back the other hand and gives Luigi’s cheek a condescending pat. Had Luigi been able to move his head, he may have tried to bite the ghost. The uncharacteristic impulse leaves Luigi mildly mortified (Mario, conversely, would probably be proud of him).

“Now,” the dark wizard continues, “let’s see what you’re made of, Star Child.” Merlich leans marginally further into Luigi’s personal space, making the latter grimace. A few beats pass before the wizard hums curiously. “Well, isn’t this a surprise. It appears you are favored by the moon.” He strokes his white mustache thoughtfully. “You typically don’t see that with diurnal species. How interesting!”

Luigi’s brows furrow minutely in bewilderment. What was that supposed to mean?

“Hmm… what else… ah! You’re quite the little adventurer, aren’t you? A hero, even, but I believe we’ve already established that.” Merlich tilts their head slightly. “Oh? Our knight in shining overalls seems to be cast in shadow. These adventures of yours… are you really a castle-storming hero? Or are you merely a tag-along?”

“What are you, my therapist?”

The dark wizard laughs. “It appears I have touched a nerve. Very good. Let’s delve further, shall we?” Merlich is quiet for several beats. Then, “Curious… I was under the impression that you were a brave human, if a foolish one. You exhibit no fear of ghosts or spirits—not beyond a healthy measure of caution, anyway—but everything else appears to be fair game. It would almost be faster to list what you aren’t afraid of!” His mustache lifts in a grin. “At your core, you’re nothing but a coward.”

Luigi scowls at the ghost. “Are we done here?” he asks, tone deceptively level. “Because other than the weird moon comment, you’ve yet to say anything I haven’t heard before.”

The wizard Vitiate scoffs. “We’ve barely scratched the surface. However, I do believe I have seen enough regarding your character.” His gaze sharpens. “I’m more interested in your abilities.”

“Like my Thunderhand technique?” Luigi says dryly. “You’ve already seen it.”

“Ah, yes, your command over lightning. A strong type of magic, but not an overly rare one.” As if to demonstrate this, Merlich splays their fingers on one hand, tiny arcs of electricity dancing between them. “No, I’m after something else. All Star Children possess incredible wells of energy, but they each have their own unique traits and abilities. Yours…” He chuckles lowly. “I have a feeling it’s something truly special.”

“Stop, you’re making me blush. I bet you say that to all the people you kidnap.”

“Keep cracking wise all you want; it makes no difference to me. Now…” Impossibly, the dark wizard’s gaze grows more intense. “Take a deep breath.”

Luigi does, but to ready a retort, not out of any sort of obedience. He fails to get another word out before his chest abruptly feels heavy and the free-falling sensation returns. Luigi’s thoughts are simultaneously racing and slogging through a thick mire, and breathing has almost become a conscious effort. For Luigi, the experience goes on for an eternity, but in reality, it only takes a few seconds. The world rights itself with dizzying speed as Merlich suddenly grabs his shoulder (whether it’s to brace themselves or Luigi, he can’t say).

“There!” The dark entity cries, triumphant. “Just look at all that latent power, tucked away so neatly in their little crates… You Star Children are truly unmatched when it comes to gifted potential. It’s unfair, really, how you hoard these blessings from the Stars. What selfish creatures you are.”

Merlich’s words are met with a halfhearted glare. If Luigi wasn’t still reining in the nausea brought about by the wizard’s meddling, he’d happily call them out on the blatant hypocrisy.

The dark wizard hums thoughtfully, eyes narrowing in concentration. “One of these things is not like the other... Yes, this crate certainly feels different. Almost as if it’s not… Oh.” Merlich is quiet for a beat. He regards Luigi with dark amusement. “Well now, here I thought you were some try-hard hero, but really, you’re just a thief!” Merlich cackles. “Could this be your ability? To take another’s power and make it your own? That’s something we have in common.”

Luigi’s jaw works uselessly as he tries to come up with a response. What in Stars’ name is the wizard talking about? When has Luigi ever stolen someone’s power? He doesn’t want to believe Merlich’s claim, but for the sake of argument, Luigi decides to humor the dark entity.

“You seem awfully excited about an ability you already possess,” Luigi states carefully.

“I couldn’t care less about the ability; I want the power you stole.” Merlich sighs, sounding almost wistful. “So much spectral energy… I don’t know how you’re still alive, but I think I’m beginning to understand why the chaos spirit favors you.”

There’s… a lot to unpack here. Luigi has no idea where to start. Merlich, however, seems perfectly content with throwing out the whole Stars’ forsaken suitcase.

“You’re confused,” the ghost observes lightly. Luigi finds it to be a massive understatement. “Perhaps that’s for the best—ignorance is bliss, as the saying goes. Regardless, I’m not going to waste time explaining something that’s about to become irrelevant to you.”

Luigi jolts imperceptibly when the dark wizard’s free hand snatches up one of his own. Merlich’s hold is akin to a handshake, as if he is merely engaging in a belated formal introduction. To Luigi, it feels more like the wizard intends to force him to strike an unfavorable deal.

“But enough of all that. I’m sure you’re tired of my relentless prodding, so let’s just skip straight to my final question.” The Vitiate’s freezing grip strengthens marginally. “Tell me, Star Child—Luigi… what is it you fear most?”

Luigi furrows his brows, thrown by the non-sequitur. “Excuse me?”

“You fear a great many things,” Merlich continues, “but I want to know what it is you fear above all else.”

“What in Stars’ name makes you think I would ever tell you something like that?” Luigi snaps, still utterly lost.

The dark wizard’s eyes narrow. “Hmm… as I thought; you aren’t going to yield quite so easily.” He tilts his head, giving Luigi an appraising look. “Perhaps you yourself aren’t even aware. I suppose we’ll have to find out together, won’t we?”

Luigi grimaces as the cold seeping into his hand begins to travel up his arm. It’s like there is ice in his veins.

“Let’s start with a common one: death. All mortals have some measure of aversion to it; it’s programmed right into your very being.” Merlich studies Luigi quietly for a moment before sighing. Strangely, they sound relieved instead of frustrated. “No, that isn’t it—thank Jaydes. Death is such a boring thing to have as your greatest fear. I think you and I both know that there are far worse fates.”

One of the revenants restraining Luigi clacks their jaw as if to agree. The icy feeling continues to creep up Luigi’s arm.

“How about the dark? I know, it seems so trivial in comparison, but fear isn’t always an emotion of logic, now, is it?” The dark wizard hums to himself. “That isn’t it, either, but that comes as no surprise. Perhaps you fear that which goes bump in the night? Not ghosts, per say, but monsters and other variations of the undead—like my Dry Horde, for example.”

“What is the point of this?”

 “I suppose you’d be in the middle of a panic attack if that were the case,” Merlich continues, ignoring the question. “Let’s try another common phobia: spiders. No? Clowns, perhaps?” The dark entity pauses. “…that was a very interesting response, but no, still not the greatest fear.”

The crawling cold is almost to Luigi’s shoulder. His head is starting to feel a little foggy.

“Hmm… maybe we should go back to concepts,” the wizard muses. “You fear so many things, and yet you still throw yourself headlong into danger—tonight being a perfect example! You’re risking your life for a handful of foolish, ungrateful children that kicked the proverbial hornets’ nest. There’s no familial connection binding you—you don’t even know them! A wiser man would have cut their losses at the first sign of trouble and left the brats to their fate. So why didn’t you?”

The cold feels as if it has reached Luigi’s heart. Something in his core begins to stir.

Merlich perks with interest, a wicked glint in his eyes. His vile presence oozes vainglory. “Oh? I do believe we’re on to something.” He chuckles darkly. “Why didn’t I think of it sooner? Of course it has something to do with your need to play hero…”

Luigi clenches his jaw to distract himself from the near-burning cold and building unease. What is the dark wizard getting at? Why are they so fixated on uncovering Luigi’s greatest fear (something he himself doesn’t even know)? Vitiates feed off the negative energy produced by fear, yes, but most would be content with knowing any of their victim’s fears.

‘—guard your fear—'

The final snippet of the knight’s warning cuts its way through the fog of Luigi’s mind. This is what the armored Koopa had been alluding to all along. The disjointed words are finally coming together now that Luigi has proper context.

Do not look [into his eyes]. [You must] guard your fear [from him, or he] will break you.

“Now, if I were a mortal with a hero complex,” the dark wizard purrs, “what would be the one thing I feared most?”

Every fiber of Luigi’s being is screaming at him to move. The stirring in his core becomes more pronounced; it swells in the confines of its metaphorical crate.

“Hmm… I suppose it would depend on why you do this in the first place. Perhaps you seek admiration; to be adored by the denizens and hailed as a hero. Saving a bunch of children would certainly put you in a positive light.”

“You really like the sound of your own voice, don’t you?” Luigi retorts, voice slightly strained.

The dark entity continues as if Luigi hadn’t spoken. “Part of you desperately craves the recognition you are so often denied. How unfair it must feel, to have so many of your accomplishments cast in the shadow of others.” Merlich tilts his head. “Is it obscurity you fear? To be forgotten? Are you so desperate to leave your mark that you’re willing to risk death?”

The stirring seeks an outlet. The crate strains to contain it, like an overpacked suitcase ready to burst.

“No… your hero complex isn’t driven by ego; your desire to save others is wholly sincere.” Merlich says this as if he can’t decide if he should be more baffled or disgusted by the concept. “You genuinely wish to help—to protect. The thought of someone meeting their end when you could have prevented it—” The dark wizard pauses. “…terrifies you.”

Merlich regards Luigi blankly. Then, with a laugh, “Oh, that’s just precious. Your greatest fear… is failure.” The wizard’s eyes glint with sadistic glee. “But not just any failure—no, you’re used to the occasional screw up, aren’t you? Your fear pertains specifically to how it affects others. It’s one thing to fail yourself, but when someone else must suffer the consequences…” He chuckles darkly. “I wonder how you would fair if those consequences proved to be… fatal.”

Luigi doesn’t have to wonder. He thinks of the ghosts he’s fought that very night. The kids he’s protected. The horrors they endured, all because of one stupid mistake. He thinks of the unconscious teenager lying a few meters away, unaware of the stakes of Luigi’s mental battle with the dark wizard. If Luigi loses, it’s not just his own life at risk. Merlich is right; the thought does terrify him, but a stronger emotion overtakes the growing horror with startling ferocity: anger. Luigi burns with it.

The crate opens.  

Chapter Text

Something has changed. Something that Luigi can’t identify, and likely won’t for some time yet. Something that won’t be contained now that it is free. It is dynamic. It listens carefully to Luigi’s heart and responds to his fear—to The Threat. Like a supernatural serpent, it assumes a defensive coil. It cannot hiss or rattle a tail in warning—it has no hood to flare—but it thrums with its own warning; a warning that goes unheard or unheeded. It doesn’t bother issuing another.

It listens to Luigi’s heart.

It feels his anger.

And now, so will The Threat.

Righteous fury guides the stirring energy down Luigi’s arm, chasing away the stabbing cold as it goes. The energy pools in his palm. One of his fingers twitches imperceptibly. With a blink, Luigi suddenly finds he can move. He doesn’t spare any time to question this latest development. Instinct, a reflex, something, has Luigi’s once lax hand mirroring the wizard’s crushing grip. Merlich looks between their interlocked hands and Luigi’s narrowed eyes with unmitigated shock.

The stirring finds its outlet.

A crackling, phlox colored energy surges through Merlich’s arm.¹ The dark wizard cries out in surprise as he is brutally torn from Luigi’s grasp and propelled across the room with incredible force. He collides with the far wall with a surprisingly solid thud—as if the assailing energy briefly rendered the entity corporeal—and falls to the ground in a twitching heap. Sound and clarity crash back into Luigi in the wake of the wizard’s absence. Luigi gasps like a drowning man breaching the water’s surface. He blinks rapidly with a sharp shake of the head, desperate to return moisture to his stinging eyes.

The Dry Horde stare after their master in stunned silence. Luigi somehow manages to recover first, and quickly takes advantage of their stupor, wrenching himself from their hold. A couple of revenants make a grab for him as he leaps to his feet and pulls away. Luigi turns on his heel, left arm extended in a sweeping motion as he moves to strike the nearest offenders. The strange energy hungrily seeks its next outlet. It lashes out at its newfound targets, sending several revenants violently crashing into their hapless kin. Bones fly and rotted bodies clatter to the floor in a hazardous pile. Groaning undead struggle to disentangle themselves from the wayward remains of their obliterated comrades. The revenants lucky enough to escape the remains-turned-shrapnel hiss with agitation and alarm. A few begin a restless pace along the fallen, watching the retreating human warily.

Luigi backpedals from the Dry Horde with wide eyes. He looks down to his offending arm in time to see the last of the unknown energy fizzle out. The stirring seems to settle—satisfied, for the moment. Luigi stares at his hand as if it is something foreign.

What in Stars’ name was that?

A deranged cackle pulls Luigi from his stupor. He whirls around to find the dark wizard rising unsteadily from their prone position on the floor. Between Merlich and Luigi lies Dane and the unguarded Poltergust. Luigi’s eyes widen impossibly further. This was his chance!

Luigi dashes to his Poltergust as the slowly recovering Merlich continues to cackle madly. He dares to grin when he snatches up the device, but the triumphant feeling immediately dissipates when he finds the quick-release buckles on the straps are still disengaged. Precious seconds burn away as Luigi clicks them back into place with shaking hands. He curses silently to himself, eyes darting between Merlich and the Dry Horde while he threads his arms through the straps and retrieves the Poltergust’s wand. The moment it is in his hand, Luigi presses the button that manually releases his paranormal partner. A literal and figurative weight lifts from his shoulder as a familiar gurgling cheer announces Gooigi’s return.

“Oh, thank the Stars! You’re not—” Gooigi cuts himself off, looking from the recovering horde and cachinnating wizard to Luigi and the Doogan at their feet. “…I have questions.” ²

“I’ll have to answer them later,” Luigi says, turning to Merlich. He is dismayed to find the Vitiate has already recovered.

“Marvelous!” the dark wizard bellows, “A taste—a mere sampler—of what is to be mine!”

Merlich slowly makes his way towards them. The blast clearly weakened him, but Luigi’s unwitting demonstration of the unknown power also seems to have reinvigorated the dark entity. Luigi can see it in the hungry glow of their eyes. He quickly averts his gaze, unwilling to test if the wizard can induce that horrible trance-like state from this distance.

“I’m not sure if it will work on you,” Luigi whispers to his partner, “but just in case, avoid eye contact with Merlich.”

“You’ve been looking him in the eye?” Gooigi whispers back, “I can’t stop staring at his mustache.”

Merlich halts briefly to scrutinize his scrambling horde. “Hm. Unrefined, but admittedly effective. And it’s only just been brought to the surface!” He leers at Luigi. “Imagine that energy at peak capacity in the hands of someone that knows how to use it.” The wizard’s eyes crinkle in amusement. “Perhaps you don’t need to. Surely, you must have witnessed its full potential when you faced its previous owner.” ³

“What in Jaydes’ name is he talking about?”

“I don’t really know,” Luigi mutters quietly. It’s not a total lie. Regardless, now isn’t the time to get into it.

“Though I suppose, if that were the case,” Merlich continues, “you wouldn’t have been able to steal it, hm?” He looks back to the Dry Horde. With a wave of his hand, the fallen and entangled revenants are lifted and reassembled. They shake themselves out in apparent relief, bones rattling and jaws clicking as they readjust. Merlich resumes his slow advance. “Rest assured; it will soon be in more capable hands.”

Suddenly, the ghost hunting duo find themselves back-to-back as two threats approach from opposite sides. Luigi, facing the dark wizard, dares to spare a glance at the unconscious teenager situated between him and his partner. They need to find a way to get Dane out of the crossfire.

“Gooigi,” he calls, keeping a close eye on Merlich, “grab Dane and move him to the wall. I’ll cover you.”

“Why do I gotta be the heavy lifter?”

Luigi arcs a brow at the ectomorph. “Do you have a way to deflect magic?”

“Do you?”

Luigi pointedly lifts a hand sparking with electricity.

“…fine.” Gooigi grumbles. He reaches down and grabs Dane under the arms and begins to carefully drag him adjacent to the encroaching threat. The spell book, which had been carelessly deposited on the boy’s chest, slides down into his lap.

Luigi moves so he is standing between their paranormal foes and his retreating partner. He slowly walks backwards, matching Gooigi’s pace and keeping a careful eye on their pursuers. The trio are almost to the wall when Merlich makes his first move.

Merlich thrusts out an arm with a flourish, a colorful array of shapes following the motion as they swirl into existence. The geometric Koopa magic is almost comforting in its familiarity. Luigi is quick to call upon the Thunderhand to deflect it. He winces as the technique’s backlash stutters his step, but it isn’t strong enough to stop him altogether. Merlich switches tactics and summons a globe of water. To Luigi’s surprise, the Vitiate keeps their attack focused on him instead of targeting his vulnerable partner. The watery orb is immediately vaporized by his Thunderhand. Again, Luigi is hit with marginal backlash.

They have at last reached the wall. Merlich summons another orb of water, and Luigi swiftly vaporizes it as well. Luigi grimaces when the cycle repeats itself yet again. Steam from the colliding attacks thickens between them. He is beginning to question the dark wizard’s strategy as he destroys another water-based attack. It is during his next backlash that a significantly larger globe of water cuts through the vapor cloud. Luigi is unable to react fast enough. He desperately lashes out with the Thunderhand, but the aquatic orb is already too close. His attack hits its mark, yet it only succeeds in vaporizing part of the water-based magic. Most of it crashes into Luigi, saturating his damp attire anew.

Luigi is really, really, tired of soggy clothes.

His partner is not spared the water’s wrath. The ectomorph dissolves into a gooey puddle with a frustrated cry. Not even Dane is free of the splash zone. A cup’s worth—negligible, in comparison—washes over the boy’s face. Bafflingly, this is what snaps the Doogan out of his comatose-like state.

Dane snaps up in a sitting position, flailing and spluttering in the wake of his rude awakening. He shakes himself like, well, like a dog, dispelling most of the liquid from his fur. A few stray drops find their way to Luigi, but in the man’s soaked condition, it makes little difference. The teen’s focus falls on Luigi once he settles. He blinks up at them, bleary-eyed.

“…Luigi? What are you—” Dane squints, watching a drop of water fall from the brim of Luigi’s cap. “…did you get another pool thrown at you?”

Luigi’s eyes dart back to the dark wizard. “Something like that,” he grumbles.

Dane follows Luigi’s gaze. He gasps sharply, eyes widening in shock as they land on Merlich. “That’s him!” he cries, pointing frantically at the Vitiate. “That’s the hooded ghost I told you about! Where’d he come from?!”

“You.”

“…I’m sorry, what?”

“Well now!” Merlich interjects. “Look who finally decided to join us.” He spreads his arms, gesturing grandly to the Dry Horde. “My friends here have just been dying to meet you.”

The revenants click and clatter agreeably, shambling a little closer upon their delayed introduction to the boy. Dane scrambles backward with a shriek. He stares at the horde in wide-eyed terror, back pressed firmly against the cold dungeon wall. The spell book slides from his lap and flops to the floor unnoticed.

“Wha—zombies?! Why are there zombies?!” Dane dares to look away for a moment, eyes darting frantically around the unfamiliar room. “And where in Stars’ name are we? Why aren’t we at my house? What is happening?!”

Luigi grimaces. The teen’s fear and confusion are completely justified, but he doesn’t have time to answer all their questions. Brevity is all he can afford. “Remember that magic circle in your attic? The ‘hooded ghost’—Merlich—used it to bring us here; this is his domain.”

Dane gapes at Luigi. “Hold on—are you telling me the ghost pulled an Uno Reverse on us?” ⁴

Luigi blinks. “That’s… actually not too far off. Yeah.”

The Doogan grasps his head with a groan. “Oh man oh man oh man! I knew being eaten by zombies was going to be how I went out!" he rambles hysterically. “Why did I have to go and leave my silver dagger in my room?!"

Luigi isn’t given the chance to reassure (or correct) the teen. His focus is swiftly stolen by Merlich when the dark entity suddenly drifts closer. The wizard is but a few meters away.

“The boy is right to fear for his life,” Merlich says. “But perhaps… he doesn’t need to be.”

 Luigi frowns at the wizard, bemused. Merlich takes this as his cue to elaborate.

“Witnessing your power has put me in an oddly charitable mood,” he continues. “That energy far exceeds anything I could ever hope to take from the pup. In comparison, he’s rather useless. I honestly have no need for him.”

Dane squeaks fearfully at the implication. Luigi moves to shield him from Merlich’s view.

“You misunderstand me!” Merlich laughs, shaking his head mirthfully. “I’m not threatening the child, I’m offering to let him go.” His mustache lifts in a grin. “In exchange for your complete surrender.”

Luigi baulks. He can sense his recovering partner’s own incredulity. “What?”

“This is what you wanted, no? A diplomatic solution?” Merlich spreads his hands pragmatically. “Put down your weapon, surrender your power, and I’ll send the child home unharmed. Simple as that.”

“No, not simple,” Luigi refutes, agitated. “Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to fall for that?”

“I think it’d be stupid of you to not even consider it,” the wizard retorts. “Let’s take a moment to assess your situation, shall we? You’re completely outnumbered, and your grimy doppelgänger can’t hold up to even the weakest of water magic—the same magic, which has now rendered your electrical manipulation hazardous to yourself.” He gestures to Luigi’s freshly soaked clothes as he says this.

“I’m almost always outnumbered in my line of work,” Luigi says. “And I don’t need the Thunderhand to defeat you.”

Merlich’s eyes settle on the Poltergust. “I see. Let’s say, for arguments’ sake, you do manage to best me; that you use your strange little device to capture me like all the other spectral husks.” He sweeps a hand toward his revenants. “What of them, hm? They can’t be caught or killed. They’ll just keep getting back up, even if I’m not here to give orders, and they won’t stop until they’ve torn you to pieces.”

Luigi’s eyes flit to the only exit; the exit currently blocked by swathes of reanimated rot. Merlich follows his gaze.

“Oh yes, do try and make a run for it. I’m sure that will end well,” the ghost cackles. “Even if you somehow manage to leave this room, you still have the rest of my dungeon to contend with. It’s a veritable maze full of traps, dead ends, and, of course, my vast horde of the undead. You only made it through unscathed because I allowed it.”

Luigi had suspected as much, but the revelation is unnerving all the same. Merlich’s level of influence and reach in their domain is a deadly unknown.

“But, again, for arguments’ sake, let’s say the Stars smile upon you, and you somehow escape in one piece. What then? You have no idea where you are! We could be in the middle of a desert, or high in the treacherous mountain peaks. We could be in an entirely different dimension! How ever will you get home?”

It’s quiet but for the anxious rattle of pacing undead. Before Luigi can offer any kind of reply, Dane clears their throat.

“W-we, uh,” Dane begins nervously, “We could leave the same way we got here?”

Merlich barks out a harsh laugh, shaking his head in amusement. “A grand idea! Because teleportation magic isn’t volatile in the slightest! I’m sure an inexperienced mutt, a speech-impaired slime monster, and a human with a curious aversion to magical texts will wield that power with grace.” He chuckles sadistically. “Yes, I would love to see you try and execute that type of magic while a horde of the undead bear down on you…”

Dane mumbles something unflattering under his breath. Though neither quite catch what he says, the ghost hunting duo silently agree with the sentiment. Luigi scowls at the wizard in the hopes that it conceals his growing uncertainty. He hates to admit it, but Merlich has raised some very good points. The outlook of the mortal’s situation is rather bleak.

Luigi shakes his head, ignoring the mantra of denials trickling in from his partner. “It doesn’t matter how solid your argument may be, the fact of the matter is you can’t be trusted to uphold your end of the deal.”

Merlich reclines in the air as if taking an invisible seat. Luigi’s eyes narrow at his display of ease. “A fair concern,” he admits. “Tell you what, I’ll send the runt home right now in a show of good faith. The slime golem can even accompany them, if you like.”

Gooigi thrums with irritation; irritation that turns to disbelief when Luigi doesn’t immediately tell the wizard off. Disbelief that slowly turns to fear the longer Luigi stays silent.

The dark wizard folds his hands over his lap. “Protecting others is your top priority, is it not? You’ve been backed into a corner, Star Child, and the odds are stacked heavily against you.” He tilts his head as he regards Luigi. “Do you dare to gamble the boy’s life on such a grave uncertainty? Can you live with yourself if he is made to pay for your… failure?”

The Poltergust’s wand creaks under Luigi’s tightening grip. Luigi isn’t sure what he hates more, Merlich’s smug look or that he’s giving the wizard’s offer serious consideration. The thought sends Gooigi into a frenzy. He demands to be released from containment, but his frantic clamoring fails to garner Luigi’s attention. The latter is centering himself—eyes closed as he takes a deep, composing breath.

What would Mario do in his place…?

Merlich rises from his casual recline and drifts a little closer. When he is but a few paces away, he extends a cold, shadowy hand to Luigi. “Well, little hero? Do we have an accord?”

Luigi eyes the hand like it is a venomous serpent set to strike. Phantom ice prickles along his left arm as he recalls their last physical contact mere minutes before. Luigi scowls at the memory. With a weary sigh, he prepares his answer.

“No.”

Luigi turns sharply to Dane in wide-eyed surprise. The Doogan is glaring at Merlich with a defiant scowl.

Merlich meets the boy’s glare with one of his own. “This doesn’t concern you, pup.”

Dane scoffs. “Uh, yeah it does. Your dumb deal has me as a bargaining chip. I’d say it concerns me a whole lot.”

“Dane,” Luigi says patiently, “it’s alright. Let me handle this.”

“Uh-uh. No way!” the kid squawks. “You can’t sacrifice yourself for me; that’s messed up! This whole thing is my fault in the first place!”

“Kid—”

“Even if I was willing to go along with this—which I’m not—that creep would probably double cross you anyway! I mean, how can you even be sure Gummy Man and I get sent back home? Or that he wouldn’t just come after us anyway after you’re… you know.” Dane shakes his head with a grimace. “Besides, I think it’s suspicious that he offered this deal in the first place. ‘Good mood’ my hat—he totally knows there’s a chance you can beat him!”

“You’re right.”

The teenager blinks. “…I am?”

“Yeah,” Luigi smiles tiredly. “I’ll admit, I was tempted for a moment there, but then I remembered a bit of advice I gave your friend, Koojo.”

“Uh… never give up?”

“Don’t make questionable deals with wizards. But yeah, ‘never give up’ is good, too.” ⁵

Dane huffs a relieved chuckle, a sentiment Gooigi quietly mirrors. “Oh, thank Grambi. I really didn’t want to be known as the jerk that got Luigi killed.”

“No,” Merlich agrees, “I think I’d like to have that honor all to myself.”

The hairs on the back of Luigi’s neck rise in warning. Luigi whips back around to face the dark wizard, but he’s not fast enough to dodge or deflect the colorful, prismatic spell aimed at his person. It knocks him to the ground with a pained cry. Luigi narrowly avoids landing on Dane, who pulls his knees to his chest with a startled yowl.

“Oh dear, you weren’t ready,” the wizard notes flatly.

Luigi pushes himself up into a seated position with a grunt. He winces at the moderate burning sensation where the magic made contact. It was relatively weak for a spell spun of Koopa magic (Kamek has delivered more devastating blows), but Luigi has a feeling that was intentional. The attack was to get his attention, not to incapacitate him.

“A thousand pardons; I didn’t read the room correctly,” Merlich continues. “I had gleaned that you decided to decline my generous offer to show mercy. Was I wrong?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” Luigi grinds out.

Merlich shrugs, looking wholly unbothered. “Suit yourself. If you want to do this the hard way, I’m happy to oblige.”

Unknown magic crackles to life in the dark wizard’s hands. The Dry Horde form a half-circle behind their master, hissing and rattling in anticipation as Luigi scrambles to his feet. Luigi retrieves the Poltergust’s fumbled wand with great haste. A press of a button later, the weight on his back lessens, and Gooigi is freed from the canister at last. The ectomorph gives him a Look—one that promises an impending lecture—but otherwise says nothing. Luigi grimaces. Wordlessly, he and his partner take up a defensive stance in front of Dane.

“Let’s see what you’re really made of,” Merlich cackles, lifting their arms into a striking pose. “Give it your all, Star Chi—!”

A white blur crashes into Merlich from above. It slams the dark entity face-first into the hard, stone floor, effectively silencing him. The magic in his palms fizzles out.

Gooigi bursts into hysterical, gurgling laughter while Luigi stares at the new arrival in shocked awe. “…Pepper?!”

The Polterpup yaps happily in the affirmative. He sits on the downed wizard’s head, his ghostly tail little more than an excited blur. With a cheerful bark, he abruptly leaps off his impromptu cushion and makes a line for Luigi. Pepper only just keeps from tackling his favorite human to the floor. He settles for excitedly pawing at Luigi’s legs, vying for the man’s attention. Luigi relents with a watery laugh.

Impeccable timing? Waggly tail? Dopey smile? There’s no doubt in Luigi’s mind: this is the real Polterpup.

“It’s good to see you too, buddy,” Luigi says, cupping the spirit’s beaming face. “Is this where you’ve been all this time?”

“No, we’ve only just arrived.”

Luigi turns with a yelp, startled by the new, but familiar voice. There, floating at his side, is the wayward knight. They meet Luigi’s surprise with quiet scrutiny.

“…You’re still alive,” the knight observes, sounding almost impressed. “Well done.”

Luigi blinks dumbly. “Um… thanks?” He clears his throat. “Your warnings were, uh, enlightening.”

The Dry Horde look from their prone master to the interlopers with no small amount of uncertainty. A few dare to creep forward, whether to check on the dark wizard or lead an attack, Luigi can’t say. They hardly make two shambling steps before a slew of spear constructs abruptly rise from the floor, pinning the skeletons in place like insects on a board. Luigi grimaces as they writhe and click their jaws in distress.

The knight lowers their outstretched arm. They turn their burning gaze from the impeded revenants to the dark wizard, the latter of which has begun peeling himself from the floor. Merlich rises unsteadily, giving his head a rapid shake as if to clear it. His gaze falls on his servant. For a beat, he regards the knight, uncomprehending. Luigi sees the moment it finally registers in the wizard’s mind.

“What?! Where did—?” Merlich cuts himself off when he spots Pepper. He lunges backward, eyes growing impossibly wider. “The chaos spirit! How in Jaydes’ name did you get here?!” ⁶

Luigi’s brows furrow in confusion. Chaos spirit? Hadn’t Merlich said something about a chaos spirit earlier? Something about one favoring him? He squints down at the Polterpup, bewildered. Merlich had been talking about Pepper?

“We used the magic circle,” the knight replies evenly.

“Impossible!” Merlich hisses, swiping a hand through the air. “I barred you from the circle; you shouldn’t have been able to enter the blasted thing, never mind use it!”

The armored Koopa nods to Pepper, an amused glint in their glowing red eyes. “Tell that to the chaos spirit.”

Merlich glares down at the Polterpup, shaking with rage. Pepper looks back, dopey smile strangely absent. It’s a little unnerving, the way he regards the dark entity. The intensity of the pup’s gaze almost feels challenging.

“Meddlesome creature… You had your chance at claiming the Star Child’s power for your own; it is now mine for the taking! And you—!” Merlich points at the armored Koopa, “Your rebellion was amusing at first, but my patience is at an end. Once I’ve dealt with the Star Child, you will suffer dearly for your insolence!”

The flames burning in the sconces along the walls flicker and flare in time with the wizard’s ire. Their warm color shifts into an icy blue. The ember-like glow in the eye sockets of the revenants stand out starkly in the eerie new light. Luigi frowns as his vision adjusts to the ambience’s dramatic shift; sometimes he hates being right.

Merlich thrusts out a commanding arm, eyes now locked on Luigi. “Bring me the mortals!” he bellows.

The Dry Horde surges forward with an eager snarl. Luigi flinches when a row of spear constructs manifest before him; parallel to the floor with sharp points trained on the undead. They abruptly streak toward their targets in a shadowy blur. The front line of revenants is knocked back as the constructs penetrate and thread through their boney bodies. Several standing directly behind their comrades are skewered as well, like a batch of particularly unappetizing kebabs. Another row of spear constructs form as the knight turns their head toward Luigi.

“I will keep the horde at bay,” they tell him. “Focus your efforts on my master.”

With a sweep of their arm, the second row of spears perforates the next wave of revenants. The knight shoves them back in the direction of the door. They repeat the process again, ensuring to pin down any of the undead that dare to break formation. The Dry Horde shrieks angrily as they begin to lose ground.

“…did I have a stroke, or is the armored ghost talking normally?” Dane asks. “Also, when did they join our team??”

“It’s a long story,” Luigi sighs.

“Useless,” Merlich growls, gaze now settled on the knight. “I’ve had it with your interference.”

Luigi’s eyes widen as electricity begins to arc between the wizard’s fingers. If Merlich manages to incapacitate the knight, they’ll lose their buffer from the revenants. He can’t allow that to happen.

“Pepper, stay here and look after the kid,” Luigi says, keeping his eyes on the wizard. “Gooigi, you’re with me.”

Luigi takes off with haste, leaving no room for argument. His partner quickly follows. Luigi begins to charge up the Strobulb as he comes within range of the wizard. The latter has yet to notice their approach. When the charging whine of Luigi’s flashlight crescendos, he calls out to Merlich to get his attention.

“Hey!”

Merlich’s head snaps toward his voice. The second they lock eyes, Luigi activates the Strobulb. Merlich cries out in alarm as his vision is whited out by the blinding light. The lightning brewing in his palms fizzles out. Gooigi quickly steps up before he can recover and fires off a Plunger Shot at the wizard’s face. The ectomorph then darts forward and catches the end of the plunger’s rope with the Poltergust’s nozzle. He pulls with all his might in a downward arc, slamming the dark entity into the ground; once, twice.

On the third swing, he aims towards Luigi. The plumber quickly intercepts as the ghost breaks free from the plunger and captures them in the gale of their own Poltergust. The ends of the dark entity’s robes are snagged by the nozzle, and Luigi turns on his heel and slams the ghost into the ground twice more. Gooigi prepares to catch them after the third swing, but Merlich has long since caught on to their violent game of paranormal pass, and blindly lashes out with a volley of flames. The ectomorph just barely ducks under the elemental attack and Luigi diverts the fire with a blast of air from the Poltergust’s Burst function.

Luigi fires off another charge of the Strobulb shortly after he lands. Gooigi follows suit, but judging by the lack of glowing from beneath the ghost’s hood, they have wizened up and shut their eyes. Merlich sightlessly raises their arms above their head, and the sound of cracking stone cuts through the hissing and groans of the Dry Horde. Chunks of rock are torn from the ceiling, and with a downward thrust of the dark entity’s hands, they descend upon the duo like a vindictive meteor shower. Luigi and his partner frantically dodge the projectiles, but the chamber, though large, doesn’t offer much in the way of cover. One stone manages to clip Luigi’s shoulder, but the plumber barely notices the pain through the rush of adrenaline. Gooigi is less lucky. A large rock smashes the poor ectomorph into paste, forcing them back into the safety of Luigi’s Poltergust canister. Luigi dares to glance over at Pepper and Dane. He is relieved to find that their area has been largely spared from the raining rubble. Currently, the Doogan is looking at something cradled in his hands—the spell book.

Luigi can’t afford to divide his attention any longer. He releases his partner from the canister shortly after the final rock falls. The ectomorph grumbles in frustration.

“Now what?” he asks.

Luigi looks around at the fallen stones. He considers using some of them as projectiles—turn Merlich’s attack against them—but he isn’t confident that the Poltergust’s gale is strong enough to hold that kind of weight. Something abruptly grabs Luigi by the ankle. He yelps and twists in the offender’s grip. A Dry Bones had managed to slip past the knight’s defenses, and it’s no wonder; the revenant is missing its legs. Luigi supposes it would be easy to overlook a foe dragging its way across the floor when the immediate threat is either at eye level or raining down on you from above.

A horde of Dry Bones is one thing, but a lone straggler missing half its assets? Luigi can handle that.

Luigi takes up the Poltergust’s wand and points it at the reanimated skeleton’s head. He switches on the intake, and at this proximity, the strength of the gale is more than enough to pull the revenant’s skull from their vertebrae. He looks to Gooigi and nods his head at the weathered shell left behind.

“You don’t happen to remember how we fought that T-Rex skeleton back at The Last Resort, do you?”

“I remember being chewing gum.” Gooigi quickly snatches up the turtle shell with his own gooey Poltergust. “But I see where this is going.”

Merlich slowly lifts his arm, palms up. The rubble littering the floor gently follows the rising motion. “Yes, keeping talking,” the dark entity growls, “it makes it all the easier to find you.”

With a sharp wave of their hand, half of the floating rubble speed toward Luigi and his paranormal partner. The two ghost hunters leap in opposite directions as they desperately try to avoid the attack. The stones had broken into smaller pieces upon colliding with the ground, meaning there were more projectiles to contend with. Between that and keeping track of their boney arsenal, escaping the onslaught completely unscathed was nigh impossible. Luigi is grazed at least twice in his retreat. He can hear some of the debris glance off the Poltergust. One stone passes over his head close enough that it nearly takes his hat with it. Several smaller rocks whizz through Gooigi’s gelatinous body, but none are large enough to break his form.

Before the wizard can unleash the remaining floating rubble, Luigi takes aim and fires off the angrily chattering Koopa skull. The wizard Vitiate cries out in surprise as they’re struck. Concentration broken, the stones collapse to the ground in a noisy clatter. Gooigi doesn’t give Merlich time to recover. He quickly launches the dusty Koopa shell and cheers as it hits its mark.

Luigi rushes forward and activates the Poltergust’s intake. The stunned ghost is drawn into its gale, and Gooigi is quick to add his Poltergust’s power to the mix. The two ghost hunters gradually move backward as they work to draw the dark entity closer. Merlich pulls in the opposite direction, but it is clear he is losing ground to the combined strength of two Poltergusts. Then, to Luigi’s surprise, Merlich abruptly turns and allows the vacuum’s suction to bring them closer. Their hands are sparking with electricity. There’s no time to dodge.

White light fills Luigi’s vision as he is blown back with a concussive boom. The tell-tale pop! of Gooigi losing form is lost in the cacophony. Luigi comes to a sudden stop against one of the many stones littered across the floor, but the pain from the impact is negligible compared to his spasming muscles. His ears are ringing from the blast, but he can still distantly hear the groaning and clattering bones of the Dry Horde trying to circumvent the knight.

“I was going to be merciful,” the dark wizard hisses. “I was going to take your power and give you a swift death.”

Luigi laboriously works to get his arms underneath him. He looks up and finds he is now facing the doorway where the Koopa Vitiate is working tirelessly to keep the revenants at bay. The horde of skeletons are relentless; if the knight attempted to come to Luigi’s aid, the horde would overwhelm them all in seconds.

“I was going to spare you from witnessing your own failure as I took the boy’s life next.”

Luigi can feel Gooigi’s presence at the back of his mind. They are sending pulse after urgent pulse through their connection, prodding Luigi to get to his feet. But Luigi isn’t quite there yet. The spasming in his arms and legs have only just eased enough for him to get to his hands and knees.

“I even considered sending the child’s body back home—give his family something to bury.” Merlich chuckles darkly. “I’m not usually so generous, you know.”

Luigi’s jaw clenches as he shoves himself into a kneeling position. He can feel the wizard’s vile presence behind him.

“But now? Now I plan to save you for last.”

Luigi braces himself against a stone and carefully rises to his feet. When he feels certain he won’t collapse, he slowly turns so he is facing the dark wizard. He releases Gooigi from the Poltergust’s canister and stumbles slightly at the abrupt shift in weight. Gooigi moves as if to support him, but the plumber’s drenched clothing prove to be a strong deterrent.

Merlich sneers. “Still have some fight in you, I see. You just don’t know when to quit.”

Luigi glares at the wizard as he takes up the Poltergust’s wand. “Yeah,” he says, “I’ve been told that before.” ⁷

Merlich matches his glare. “It matters not. You cannot outlast me, mortal. You’re nearly at your limit.” The dark entity’s tone becomes sadistic. “Once I have you restrained, I’ll make you watch as I kill the boy—slowly. Then I’ll track down the other children and force you to witness their demise as well.” His gaze shifts to Gooigi. “As for the slime golem—”

“The what?”

“—I think I’ll keep it; mold it into an obedient little pet. It may have a lot of weaknesses, but it could still prove useful. At the very least, it would be entertaining.”

The Poltergust’s wand creaks in Luigi’s tightening grip. A strange feeling builds in his chest alongside his anger. “Are you finished monologuing?”

The approximation of a snicker bubbles from the ectomorph. Merlich’s eyes snap back to Luigi, and the temperature of the already chilly dungeon seems to drop further. “…it appears I’ll only be adding six skeletons to my horde,” the ghost says, voice dangerously level. “After I’m through with you, human, there won’t be anything for your dog to bury—”

The ghost abruptly silences himself. “…your dog,” he says slowly. Merlich turns away, eyes widening as he frantically scans the room. “Where is that chaos spirit?!”

Merlich whirls around, freezing as his eyes land on the Polterpup. No, Luigi realizes, not the Polterpup, but the kid at his side. Dane is on his hands and knees, hurriedly drawing what looks to be a magic circle the size of a dinnerplate. His canvas is the dungeon floor, and his chosen medium is a sharp rock in lieu of chalk. The wayward spell book is open face-up on the floor just off to his side. The kid looks between the hastily completed drawing and the reference page. With a nod to himself, he scoops up the book and scoots back. Pepper trots forward and drops something from their mouth into the circle’s center. Whatever it is, it’s too small to make out from where Luigi is standing.

Luigi may not understand what he is seeing, but the dark wizard clearly doesn’t share his ignorance. They point sharply at the Doogan with an angry roar. “YOU!”

Dane’s head snaps up from the book with a yelp. He stares back at the angry wizard with wide, terrified eyes.

“Foolish child! You dare invoke the ancient warden’s magic?” Merlich snarls. “Have you the slightest notion what’s at stake?!”

Dane gawks at the dark entity, jaw working uselessly as he tries to formulate a response. “I—! No, not really!” he squeaks. “But Luigi’s dog seems to think it’s a good idea so… yeah!” He looks back down at the book clutched tightly in his hand. “Here goes nothing…”

Dane starts reading aloud from the old tome and the magic circle begins to glow. The wizard lifts his arms, bellowing with rage as electricity once again builds in his hands. Luigi’s stomach drops. Merlich is facing away from him and Gooigi, so they can’t use the Strobulb or Suction Shot to obscure the ghost’s vision. There’s no time to get between the ghost and the kid, either.

The Poltergust’s wand drops from Luigi’s hands as he prepares to utilize the Thunderhand, consequences be damned, but then the strange feeling that had been building in his chest steals his focus. The stirring—the energy—once again demands an outlet. Luigi unconsciously abides. He takes a step and thrusts out an arm as if performing the Thunderhand technique, but instead of lightning, a phlox-tinged energy arcs from his hand. It feels natural, and yet not at all, but whatever it is, his drenched clothes don’t conduct it. All the strange energy hones in on one target.

Merlich howls in agony as the energy strikes him from behind. The electricity forming in his hands snuffs out as he crashes to the ground. Luigi blinks owlishly at the stunned Vitiate. He retracts his still outstretched arm, watching as a final spark of phlox energy fizzles from his palm. It’s just like what happened earlier…

Gooigi warbles in surprise, head swiveling between the spasming ghost and his partner. “Since when could you do that?!”

A furious snarl cuts through any response Luigi may have given. He looks up from his hand in time to see the dark wizard rise unsteadily from the ground. Dread seizes Luigi in a cold grip. Merlich’s appearance is warping and twisting before his very eyes. Their mustache, once a pristine white, has become greenish grey in color. Stringy and clustered, the hairs seem to sway in a non-existent breeze, like Spanish moss draped over the arms of an ancient oak. A fitting analogy, given the entity’s fingers have elongated into gnarled things reminiscent of the reaching branches of a tree. Their robe hangs on them in loose, flowing tatters. The old worn fabric also appears to ripple and wave, an unnatural phenomenon in this subterranean world where wind is a foreign concept. Beneath Merlich’s hood, a third yellow eye opens in what Luigi approximates to be the wizard’s forehead. Smaller orbitals wink in and out of the hood’s obscuring shadows. Luigi isn’t sure if these are all new independently operating eyes, or one eye with an ever-changing location, and he’s even less certain which would be more unsettling.

The corrupted form of Merlich shudders with rage and residual magic. His burning gaze flares as it settles on his attacker. The dark wizard’s arm rises in a sharp, stilted motion, a gnarled finger uncurling from his warped fist to point in silent accusation. Luigi takes an unconscious step back.

“Y̺̬͉̺ ͈̹͙̳o̠̹̦͎͉͕͓ ̙̮̩̦͖u͓̖̼̲̼...” Merlich hisses, “F̙͖ ̤̤͖̘̰a ̜l ̼̪̠̬s̩͍̺̥̗̥̮ ͙̩͉̻̙e ̫̳̘̠̞̱ ̙̭̯͈͇̣ ̻m̭̯͖̞̘͎ ̺͚̼o̯̣ ̖̘r̳̤̫ ͇̦ͅt̞ ͇͇͙͙̪̜̩a̲̬ ̱̟̻l͔ ̣̰̩...!”

The wizard lunges at Luigi, hands alighting with unknown magic. He barely makes it three meters before he jerks to a halt, as if reaching the end of an invisible tether. The dark entity starts to drift backward. He whirls around, eyes wide with the first semblance of true fear Luigi has seen since the fight began. The ghost’s body is being drawn toward the object resting in the magic circle’s center. It finally clicks, and Luigi suddenly understands what he is seeing.

Sealing magic.

Merlich attempts to call upon their power again, but it fizzles out in his hands. He darts toward the ground and makes a desperate grab at the large stones—to use as a weapon or anchor themselves, Luigi isn’t sure—but every single one simply passes through his gnarled fingers. The ghost even attempts to escape by sinking into the floor, but the spell Dane is casting proves to be stronger and swiftly tears him from it. Merlich bellows with fury when the futility of his struggle becomes clear. He fervently curses the room’s occupants, hissing and snarling like a feral beast as he is dragged ever closer to his undoing. The dark wizard’s hateful gaze pierces Luigi one final time before he is sucked into the small object. Then, silence.

Six down…

Chapter Text

The icy blue flames illuminating the room flutter aimlessly in their sconces. They flicker once, twice, and as one, they extinguish. If not for the glow of the magic circle and the ghost hunting duo’s flashlights, all would have been plunged into darkness. A cacophony of collapsing bodies resonates through the darkened expanse. The eerie screeching and hissing of the undead are replaced by the clatter of hollow bone and crumbling rot, followed swiftly by deafening silence. It is still—quiet, but for the distant drip of moisture and heaving breaths of the two sole mortal occupants.

Then, almost as quickly as they went out, the sconces re-ignite, but in the comforting warm hues of a natural flame. The freezing, paranormal chill blanketing the dungeon recedes. Warmth is not left in its wake, merely the cool dampness typical of a subterranean world. The crushing presence of a dark entity’s miasma dissipates like fog in the morning sun. It is lighter, this new atmosphere, but it is not clean.

Dane sinks to his knees, staring wide-eyed at the magic circle and its contents as the glow begins to fade. The Doogan giggles, a touch hysterical. “Stars above… that actually worked.”

Luigi and Gooigi share a look before dashing over to the kid. Dane waves languidly at them with a tired smile. “Ha-ha, wow. Merlich? More like Merloser, am I right fellas?” His arm flops to his side, the motion abrupt yet boneless. “…Good Grambi that was awful. I am so sorry.” ¹

Luigi doesn’t refute this. He takes a knee by the kid, carefully avoiding the magic circle. “Dane, how are you feeling?”

The kid’s brows knit together in consideration. “Everything tastes purple for some reason and I’m kinda tired. Why?”

“Uh…” Gooigi warbles. “Maybe because you just performed sealing magic? On a very powerful ghost?”

“…is that a big deal or…?”

Luigi’s forehead meets his palm. “It’s highly advanced magic—one that normally requires a lot of discipline to execute without consequence—and yet you pulled it off with a hastily drawn magic circle and…” Luigi pauses, turning to look at the small object inside the circle. “Wait, what did you use as the vessel?”

Dane reaches forward and gingerly takes the small object from the magic circle. He holds it up proudly for the plumber to examine. Luigi is dismayed by what he sees.

It’s the kid’s pepper shaker.

“See, Luigi?” Dane says, “I told you pepper protects you from demons.”

Luigi can’t muster up the energy to correct the boy. Instead, he carefully accepts the pepper shaker, noting that the container appears to be made up of thick plastic. He takes some comfort in knowing that a careless fumble wouldn’t spell disaster, not like if the vessel had been glass or ceramic. Would opening the lid free the ghost, though? Stars, he hopes not.

“This… shouldn’t have worked,” Luigi mutters.

“If anyone else had made the attempt, it likely wouldn’t have.”

The group turns as one to the intruding party. The Koopa Vitiate is hovering a short distance away. Behind them lie piles upon piles of bones. Many of the skeletons are positioned as if they had collapsed mid-step. Not a spark of light shows in any of their darkened eye sockets. ²

Dane ducks behind Luigi with a startled yelp. Luigi slowly gets to his feet, eyeing the Dry Horde’s remains warily before looking back at the Vitiate. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“The child was the one to summon my former master. As such, they held power over him.”

Luigi inhales sharply. “The contract…”

Dane dares to peek out from his hiding spot. “Contract?”

“When you summon a spectral entity, they become bound to you by magic—a contract of sorts. You have power over them, meaning your will supersedes their own.”

The Doogan pointedly looks around the dreary dungeon. “Well, that creep clearly found a loophole, because I can promise you, I didn’t want any of this.”

“Powerful entities can resist the contract’s magic, to a point,” the knight supplies. “But if they are weakened enough…”

“Oh.” Dane frowns. “Is that why he wanted to kill me so badly?”

“No. You were never seen as a threat; just another energy source to drain—” the ghost sweeps a hand behind them, “—and another body to add to his collection.”

Dane stares at the mass of collapsed bones in horror. “Wait. Are you saying they’re—?”

“Over a millenia's worth of Merlich’s victims.”

The kid shakily runs a hand along his head, knocking his cap askew. “Good Grambi. I was almost one of them.”

“You would have been,” the ghost states bluntly, “if not for that wretch’s interest in the human.”

Luigi tenses as all eyes turn to him.

“Why do you always seem to attract the megalomaniacs?”

Luigi sighs heavily. “Must be my charming personality,” he grumbles. He looks at the Dark Koopa. “Thank you, for all your help. I hate to think how things would have turned out if you had not intervened.”

The Vitiate shakes their head. “Your gratitude is unnecessary. My motivations were not altruistic.” They gesture to Dane. “My contract to the boy superseded the one I had with my former master, allowing me to defy him for the first time in decades. The presence of you and your partner only complicated matters, even if it did eventually turn the tide in my favor.”

“Ouch. My ego.”

“If anyone is deserving of your gratitude,” the ghost continues, “it’s the chaos spirit. I wouldn’t have been able to return to the wizard’s domain without them.”

Dane stares at the ghost uncomprehendingly, but Luigi and Gooigi are already turning their focus to the Polterpup. Pepper is chewing on his hind leg, seemingly oblivious to the conversation.

“Okay,” Luigi sighs, “that’s the… I don’t know, fourth or fifth time I’ve heard someone call him that.” He looks back at the knight. “What in Stars’ name is a ‘chaos spirit’?”

“A spirit with chaotic traits.”

Luigi waits for them to elaborate. When they don’t, he narrows his eyes, annoyed. Was the ghost intentionally being obtuse? “Yeah, I think I could glean that from the name. Could you expound on that?”

The knight glances at the spirit in question. “I am not educated in that subject matter.”

Luigi frowns. He has a feeling the knight isn’t being entirely honest but decides not to press further (he can always ask the professor later if they know anything). The knight’s wording, however, takes him down a different train of thought. Speaking of uneducated…

“Dane… where did you get the idea for using sealing magic, again?”

The Doogan perks up, seemingly unbothered by the non sequitur. “Oh! I got it from Pepper.” He reaches over and pulls the Polterpup into what is likely meant to be a hug but looks more like a headlock. Pepper grunts mildly in displeasure, half-heartedly trying to wiggle free. “Smart, spooky puppy.”

Luigi and his partner exchange a bemused glance. “How, though? Did… did he… tell you or…?”

“Uh… not with words, no.” Dane releases Pepper—the latter chuffing as they give themselves a good shake—and picks up the spell book. “Shortly after you guys ran off to fight the wizard, Pepper came up to me and dropped the book in my lap. It was open to this page.” Dane points to the page in question. “I didn’t really pay it any mind at first, but he kept pawing at the book, and then he stuck his little snoot in my jacket pocket and pulled out the pepper shaker. I thought he was trying to be funny or something.

“That’s when I took a closer look at the pages. I didn’t really understand the writing, but there were some super helpful drawings that helped fill in the blanks.” Dane holds up the book so they can see the illustrations. “I figured you and your dog did stuff like this all the time, so I trusted him and gave it a shot.”

Luigi looks at Pepper. The Polterpup is now gnawing on his front left paw (does he have fleas? Can spirits get fleas??). He looks every bit the cute and clueless canine that Luigi knows and loves, but after tonight, the plumber finds himself questioning everything he knows about his ghostly companion.

‘I told you pepper protects you from demons.’

And as Luigi regards the Polterpup, he finds that there is more truth to that statement than any of them realize. Luigi leans down, and with the tiniest hint of hesitation, reaches out with his free hand to scritch behind what approximates the canine’s ears. “Thank you, Pepper,” he says softly.

Pepper leans into Luigi’s hand with a happy whine.

“Um…” Gooigi warbles, garnering his partner’s attention. “Not to cut this sweet moment short, but can we leave now? I kinda hate it here.”

Dane snorts in agreement as Luigi straightens with a sigh. There’s still a lot he doesn’t understand, but he’s starting to accept he won’t be finding the answers tonight. It’s time they left this dreary dungeon behind. “Sure, let’s go home.” He looks at the spell book, brows furrowing. “Though I don’t know where to begin looking for the right spell to take us there.”

“Does it have an index?”

“You needn’t waste time searching,” the knight interjects, “I know of the magic you seek and where it resides in the book…”

Luigi eyes the ghost warily. “…I’m sensing a ‘but’.”

“Hm. Perhaps you are more perceptive than I give you credit for.” The Dark Koopa raises a hand when Luigi’s eyes narrow marginally. “Be at ease. I will help you return to your dwelling. All I ask is that you sever my contract with the child first.”

Gooigi shrugs. “That seems fair.”

“And,” the ghost continues, pointing to the pepper shaker in Luigi’s hand, “you leave that with me.”

“…come again?”

“That wretch has been the bane of my existence for the past six centuries,” the Vitiate growls. “I will not risk them breaking free because of the carelessness of a nescient mortal. My strength is not in the arcane arts, but I know enough to keep them contained and hidden away.”

Luigi’s eyes trail down to the unconventional vessel. He had considered handing it over to Merlon to safeguard. The wizard was powerful and trustworthy, but he also lived in a highly populated area. If Merlich somehow breaches containment, it will not end well.

“Okay,” Luigi says at last, “it’s a deal.”

Gooigi double takes. “Are you sure that’s wise? Shouldn’t we give the vessel to the professor?”

Luigi stares at his partner blankly.

“…Stars above, you’re right; that’s a terrible idea.” He waves Luigi on. “Forget I said anything.”

Without another word, Luigi walks over to the Dark Koopa and carefully hands them the vessel. The ghost accepts it with equal care.

The ghost nods imperceptibly. “Very good,” They hold out their free hand toward Dane. “Now, let us sever the contract.”

Dane nervously hugs the spell book to his chest. “Um… that isn’t literal, is it? You don’t need to sever, like, an arm from my body or something, right?”

Luigi and the Vitiate give Dane a strange look. “Good Grambi, kid,” Luigi says, “Why would I agree to something that would hurt you?”

“I didn’t think you’d do it on purpose! Maybe you didn’t know that’s what it means to sever a contract!”

“I’ve witnessed plenty of contract terminations. I know what they entail.”

“Okay, well, what if they attack me afterwards?”

“I find you moderately irritating, child,” the dark entity rasps, “but I have no desire to harm you.”

“You threw an axe at my head!”

“I also buried one in your shoulder, and yet, you haven’t a scratch to show for it.”

“I—!” The Doogan blinks. “Don’t remember that.”

Luigi winces at the memory. “You were being possessed at the time,” he supplies.

The Vitiate nods. “You were never my target, child. I was after the vile creature pulling at your strings from within. My weapons operate on intent—they only harm what I want them to.”

“…Oh.” Dane looks down at the book and back to the ghost. “That’s cool. And convenient!”

“It sure is,” Gooigi says, patting the teen’s shoulder. He moves to join Luigi, turning to the kid and walking backward as he goes. “Now, let’s give the nice ghost a magic pink slip so we can leave.”

Dane hesitantly follows, moving so they are standing in front of the Vitiate. The ghost wordlessly holds out their free hand. Dane looks from the hand to Luigi, questioningly.

“Take their hand,” Luigi tells him, “and hold it firmly.”

Dane does as instructed. He shivers at the dark entity’s cold grip. “N-now what?”

“Slowly pull back until their hand slips from yours. Keep your arm extended.”

The Doogan and the ghost mirror the action. The moment their hands separate, a thin, glowing thread appears in their respective grip, held taut between them. Dane looks at the paranormal tether with wide eyes.

“Now,” Luigi continues, “let the thread go slack for a moment, and then quickly pull back as hard as you can until it breaks.”

Dane and the Dark Koopa once again mirror Luigi’s instructions. The glowing thread snaps cleanly between them. The teenager watches in awe as the thread fades from the visible spectrum.

“All done,” Gooigi says cheerfully.

Dane looks at the ectomorph in surprise. “Wait, that’s it?”

“Yep.”

The Doogan blinks owlishly. “Oh. I thought I’d have to recite an incantation.” He frowns. “Maybe perform some kind of complex ritual.”

Luigi shrugs. “Those are some ways to do it, but mutually severing a contract is much easier.”

“Huh. Neat.” Dane turns back to the ghost, looking somewhat sheepish. “Hey, uh, sorry again for all the trouble tonight. We all good?”

“Your heedless summoning inevitably led to my freedom. This more than atones for the tribulations you wrought.”

“…cool?”

The kid stumbles with a yelp as an unseen force pulls the spell book from its tucked position beneath his arm. The old tome comes to a stop in front of the ghost and opens. With a flick of the knight’s wrist, the old pages rapidly turn before settling just as quickly. Another wave of the hand, and the book abruptly turns and is thrust back into Dane’s arms.

“The spell and corresponding magic circle you need to return home is on the left page.” The knight turns and sweeps a hand toward the floor. Some of the debris from their fight with the wizard is swept aside, clearing a section of the floor just large enough to accommodate an appropriately sized magic circle. “Now, depart with haste. I have an army’s worth of remains to lay to rest.”

“Uh… you got any chalk we can use or…?”

“No.”

“Fantastic,” Dane grumbles, already scanning the ground for another makeshift drawing utensil. Gooigi joins the hunt, but just as Luigi offers his assistance, the Vitiate grabs him by the shoulder.

“A word, human?” Dane and Gooigi pause to look at the two curiously. “In private,” the ghost adds.

Luigi nods, warily following the Vitiate out of earshot. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The Vitiate whirls around, silencing Luigi with the intensity of their piercing red gaze. “What are you?” they hiss.

“…a plumber?”

The Dark Koopa lurches toward Luigi with a snarl. Luigi takes a startled step back, but otherwise holds his ground. Clearly, that had been the wrong answer.

“Do not play games with me, ‘human’,” the Dark Koopa growls. “Why do you continue to hide in this mortal form?”

Luigi gapes at the knight, utterly bewildered. “What in Stars’ name are you talking about?”

“Your energy betrays you. It has changed drastically since I last saw you in the child’s domain.” The knight looms closer. “You are no mere mortal.”

“I’m pretty sure I have a few bruised ribs that beg to differ,” Luigi retorts. “Would this have anything to do with me being a Star Child? Your former master seemed really thrilled about it.”

The knight shakes their head. “I’ve met other Star Children in the past, and their energy was not like yours.”

Luigi pinches his brow against an oncoming headache. “And what, pray tell, is my energy like?”

“A spirit.”

Luigi’s heart stutters in his chest. He looks up at the Vitiate, wide-eyed. The dark entity regards him curiously.

“…you truly don’t know, do you?”

“Wha—no!” Luigi sputters. “How would I?!”

The Dark Koopa folds their arms over their chest. “What did Merlich do to you before I arrived?”

“Aside from trying to monologue me to death? Palm-reading.” Luigi lifts the hand in question, casually inspecting it. He frowns. “Then he… forced eye-contact. It was like he was looking through me.”

“The eyes are the window into the soul.”

“So I’ve heard,” Luigi mumbles. “He apparently found something he wanted—some kind of energy—and… tried to take it.” Luigi decides to omit the wizard’s claim that the energy wasn’t even his to begin with.

The Dark Koopa hums thoughtfully. “I see…”

“That makes one of us. Mind sharing with the rest of the class?”

“It’s purely conjecture, but it stands to reason that the energy I’m sensing now and the energy Merlich attempted to siphon from you are one and the same. That wretch’s meddling must have stoked this energy from its dormancy.”

Luigi looks down at his hands, as if expecting to see this unknown energy. He chuckles briefly with a hint of hysteria. “Oh, that’s just wonderful.”

“Hardly,” the Vitiate retorts, unaware or uncaring of his sarcasm, “this kind of power is inevitably going to draw the wrong kind of attention, especially as it grows stronger. If you were truly a spirit, there would be little cause for concern—specters don’t usually attack stronger specters—but because you’re mortal…”

“…I’m seen as an easy target,” Luigi finishes.

“Indeed. Until you can fully utilize this power, you are at great risk.” The knight pauses, looking contemplative. “In the meantime, I leave you with this:”

There is a flash of orange light, and Luigi looks up in time for the entity to strike him in the chest with their armored palm. Luigi stumbles back a couple steps with a yelp. He regains his footing as an unknown rune glows fleetingly before him and winks out of existence. Luigi affixes the dark entity with a glare.

“Good Grambi, what was that for?!”

“Your protection.” The Vitiate replies, unapologetic. “I lack the skillset to help seal your energy, but I can disguise it—create a red herring, if you will.” They point at Luigi. “I have placed a powerful ward on your person. Spectral entities that detect it will arrive at the infinitely more logical conclusion that the ward is the source of the spirit energy, not you.” ³

Luigi blinks. “Oh. That’s… actually really helpful, thank you.”

The Dark Koopa dips their head marginally in acknowledgement. “It is but a temporary solution. The ward should last a few lunar cycles. Ideally, you will have found a way to rein in your energy by then.” The Vitiate looks past him and Luigi follows their gaze. They are looking at Pepper. The Polterpup is watching Dane and Gooigi as the two work to draw the magic circle. “You are fortunate to have that one’s favor. Keep them close; you’ll need their protection now more than ever.”

The cold buzz of energy indicative of a ghost’s presence suddenly vanishes from Luigi’s side. He turns and finds the knight is gone. Luigi frowns. Why do ghosts always insist on being so dramatic?

With a sigh, Luigi walks back to his group. Gooigi stands upon his approach and tosses him the shard of rock they’d been using to help draw the magic circle. Luigi catches it with a slight fumble.

“Where’d the Knight in Rusted Armor go?”

Luigi shrugs tiredly. “I’m not sure. They made a cryptic remark and left when I wasn’t looking.”

“Ah. So, the usual?”

“Yeah, the usual.”

Dane looks up from the spell book. “That’s normal for you guys?”

Luigi nods. “When a ghost makes their exit, it’s either quiet and mysterious, or with an angry howl—usually accompanied by a declaration of vengeance.”

“There’s no in-between. Well, unless they’re willfully crossing over to the other side, but that’s a whole different matter.”

“…huh. Who knew ghosts could be such big—”

“Careful,” Luigi interjects, “just because you can’t see a ghost, doesn’t necessarily mean they aren’t around. They could still be observing us.”

Dane winces, casting a wary eye about the eerie room. “Good to know…”

The Doogan returns to replicating the magic circle shown in the spell book. Luigi takes over for Gooigi (drawing isn’t the easiest thing to do when your hands have the consistency of gelatin), and a few short minutes later, the magic circle is complete. Luigi double checks their work, and when he is satisfied that everything matches the drawing in the book, he calls everyone to stand in the circle. He blanches when the Polterpup trots up to him with a yellowed femur in their mouth. At some point, the spirit had wandered off and claimed a treat from the fallen horde. ⁴

“Pepper, no; put that back,” Luigi says tiredly. “We have bones at home.”

The Polterpup whines but acquiesces. With a huff and a toss of their head, the bone goes soaring back into the sizable pile of skeletal remains. Luigi shakes their head and turns to Dane. He holds out his hand for the spell book.

“I’ll take it from here,” he says.

Dane smiles wearily and passes him the book without protest. “Please do.”

For the first time that night, Luigi holds the old tome with a quiet heart and mind. There is no sense of urgency, no anger, nor dread. He merely regards the magic text with the caution and respect it is due. Luigi takes a composing breath. He thinks of the dusty attic where tonight’s tribulations began, and he begins to read. ⁵

Professor E. Gadd is getting anxious.

Anxious, as in eager anticipation. Not anxious, as in worried, because the professor is not worried. Luigi has faced greater threats in the past—a slumber party crashed by angry ghosts is child’s play. Sure, these were stronger than your average ghosts. Yes, Vitiates are highly malevolent. And, okay, E. Gadd will admit that the children’s accounts were a touch concerning, but it was fine! Kids exaggerate when they’re scared. Luigi had just requested him to bring Gooigi as a precaution. Between the two of them, this hullabaloo will be taken care of in no time.

The professor glances at his watch—it’s a few minutes past the witching hour. What is taking the lad so long?

E. Gadd resists the urge to worriedly impatiently pace the yard. He settles on tapping his foot as a compromise. With a quiet huff, he folds his arms over his chest and casts his gaze over his anxious company. Luigi hadn’t talked to E. Gadd very long, but the old man learned enough to conclude that his Toad Assistants would be needed. Two are currently walking the perimeter of the sizeable home with a dark light and ectoplasm radar. After what appeared to be a Snifit Vitiate blasted through one of the walls and disappeared into the night, E. Gadd thought it wise to set up a patrol around the property. If the dark entity returned, or another tried to escape, there wasn’t much any of them could do about it, but at least now they wouldn’t be caught by surprise (though nothing could have prepared them for when a shrieking Duplighost with an axe in its back barreled out the front door and ran into the woods).

Two more assistants stand at the professor’s right, each shouldering a myriad of cleaning supplies. They very nearly left when they saw the damage to the outer wall, but the professor assuaged them with a promise to call in more help after Luigi finishes clearing out the house. Another Toad is currently on the phone with the owners of the property—who just so happened to be the parents of the remaining trapped youth. E. Gadd’s hearing isn’t the best these days, but even he can pick up the frantic voices on the other end of the line. Impressive, given that the Toad doesn’t have them on speaker phone.

E. Gadd silently thanks Luigi for banning him from interacting with mortal clients (even if he still disagrees with the plumber’s claim that he has “poor people skills”).

The professor looks over at his final Toad assistant. They are dealing with the slightly less enviable position of handling mortal clients in-person. Shortly after E. Gadd had arrived with his assistants, the one currently on the phone had taken it upon themself to notify the parents of the terrified youths (much to their horror). All but the missing Doogan’s parents have since arrived, and by the looks on some of the teenagers’ faces, they'd almost rather be dealing with angry ghosts (E. Gadd can’t blame them).

Presently, the parents are taking turns comforting/scolding their children and grilling the ever-patient Toad left to their mercy. The adults had at one point attempted to rope E. Gadd into the interrogation, but after the man strategically launched into a jargon-filled lecture about the paranormal, they quickly backed off. Despite what Luigi seems to think, E. Gadd can tell when no one wants to hear an old man ramble thank you very much.

A sharp beeping tone startles E. Gadd from his musings. He scrambles to retrieve the device making the sound, his pulse skyrocketing upon recognizing the alert—Luigi’s signal was back in range! E. Gadd quickly taps the notification on the screen of the glossy black pad. A radar fills the screen, and towards the top, a green dot representing the tracker on Luigi’s phone (it’s not creepy, it’s security!) appears. E. Gadd grins. Whatever spectral magic tomfoolery had blocked the signal has finally lifted. The lad had done it!

“Professor?” One of the Toads calls, “What is it? Have you heard from Luigi?”

Without looking up, E. Gadd lifts a finger in a silent gesture to wait. He can feel dozens of eyes on him as he brings up the video calling app and attempts to contact Luigi. It rings once, twice, three times. Half-way through the fourth, Luigi’s face appears on the screen.

“Luigi, my boy!” E. Gadd exclaims, “It’s so good to—” He squints, adjusting his glasses as he scrutinizes Luigi’s appearance. The lad looks tired and a little worse for wear. But also, “Why are you all wet?”

“I tripped and fell head-first into a toilet,” he replies dryly, “What do you think?”

E. Gadd frowns at the distant gurgling laughter that undoubtedly belongs to Gooigi. “Don’t you get smart with me, sonny-boy. I was getting wor—” he coughs, “—ready to call your brother in for back-up because you were taking too long.”

Luigi’s brows knit together in confusion. “What do you mean? It’s only been—” he looks up, presumably checking the time on the screen. His eyes widen. “…over three hours?”

“In a house this size, it should have only taken half that time,” the professor huffs. “Either these were some really tough ghosts, or I need to whip you back into shape!”

Luigi grimaces, avoiding eye contact. “Things got… a little complicated. It’s a long story.”

E. Gadd grumbles at the vague explanation. He’ll get the details later, for sure, but for now, the professor accepts the dismissal. “Hm. Well, I suppose all that matters is that you got the job done.” He leans in marginally. “…you did take care of all of the ghosts, right?”

Luigi closes his eyes, looking almost serene. “This house,” he whispers in a nasally voice, “is clean.”

Stars above, the lad is in worse shape than E. Gadd thought. “And the young feller? Are they alright?”

“After some therapy, maybe. But yeah, Dane’s still in one piece.” Luigi turns the camera so it is facing the kid in question. Like Luigi, they are also a little worse for wear, but at the very least they don’t look like they just crawled out of a dunk tank.

Dane stares back at the professor with wide eyes. “Whoa…” He looks up from the display, presumably at Luigi. “Is that the stationary wizard you mentioned earlier?”

E. Gadd squawks indignantly. More gurgling laughter bubbles through the speaker, overlapped with a weary sigh.

The video suddenly jolts, and now Gooigi is taking up the frame. “I’m okay, too,” he chirps, “Thanks for asking.” A chipper bark from the off-screen Polterpup seems to mirror the sentiment (how barking can sound sarcastic, E. Gadd can’t say).

“I was making my way down the list!” E. Gadd splutters. “Besides, I knew you’d be fine. Luigi’s the danger-prone one between the two of you.”

“Remind me not to use you as a reference if I make a career change,” Luigi grumbles.

“I make no promises. Now, you four get your keesters out here post-haste! There’s a lawn full of worrywarts waiting for you.”

The camera turns back to Luigi. He seems surprised. “You’re still on-site?”

“You betcha! I thought it would be a good opportunity to test the Virtual Boo’s successor—the Scree-U!”

One of the Toads on his right does a spit-take. They are drinking a blue liquid that looks suspiciously like the chemical used to clean windows. “The what?”

“Professor,” Luigi groans, “We can’t use that name. I told you this multiple times.”

“And I still don’t understand why not.”

“Because it sounds too much like…” Luigi gesticulates vaguely. “You know.”

“No. I don’t.”

Luigi sighs. “It’s not marketable. Just trust me on this.”

“You said the same thing about the last name I suggested,” E. Gadd huffs, “The Wii-Boo.”

“Huh, that one sounds okay,” the spit-taking Toad muses. “What’s wrong with Wii-Boo?”

E. Gadd waves a hand toward his assistant, giving Luigi a pointed look. The Doogan gasps from off-screen.

“Oh…” The teen says quietly. He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. “I get it.”

Luigi gives the professor a pointed look of his own. E. Gadd scoffs. ⁶

“Listen,” Luigi says, “We can workshop names later. In the meantime, professor, why don’t you look up?”

E. Gadd frowns. “Look up what?”

Luigi rolls his eyes. The camera flips, and suddenly E. Gadd is no longer seeing his young protégé, but himself, looking down at the Scree-U. The professor snaps his head up with a start. Luigi, Gooigi, Pepper, and Dane are all standing on the front porch. Luigi puts his phone away and offers E. Gadd a little wave.

“Hey, professor.”

The remaining occupants on the lawn take notice of the new arrivals. With varying cheers and exclamations, the group of teenagers rush to greet their freshly rescued friend. Dane hops off the porch to meet them. The parents follow at a more subdued pace, watching in weary relief as their children pull the Doogan into a crushing embrace. Luigi and his partners quietly skirt around the group, not wanting to interrupt the little reunion. E. Gadd fumbles to put away the Scree-U and jogs over to meet them halfway.

“Glad you could finally join us,” E. Gadd says, huffing slightly from the brief exertion. “Though you could have warned this old man that you were leaving the house.”

Luigi quirks a brow. “Could you not tell from the background in the video that we were moving?”

The professor crosses his arms, looking unimpressed. “You mean like how you were able to tell that I was outside on someone’s lawn and not in my lab?”

“…he’s got you there,” Gooigi signs.

“That I do. And you, Luigi,” E. Gadd says, waggling a finger in the plumber’s face, “got a lot of explaining to do! Just what happened in there, hm?”

Luigi’s shoulders droop with a sigh. “Professor, I’m soaking wet, I smell like burnt calamari dipped in chlorine, and I’m tired. Can the debrief wait until after I’ve showered and gotten some sleep?”

E. Gadd frowns. He doesn’t like the idea of putting things off—recounting is best done when things are still fresh, after all—but the lad does look (and smell) rather awful. Perhaps he can give Luigi a break, just this once.

“…fine,” he acquiesces, “But you’re leaving the Poltergust with me, and I want you over at my lab first thing when you wake up, understood?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Luigi says, already shrugging off the Poltergust. He sets it on the grass by the professor and pauses a moment, as if deliberating, and then holds out an old spell book (presumably the one that started this mess). “Can I leave this with you as well? It’s only temporary; I’ll take it to Merlon after our meet-up at your lab.”

“Hm… I don’t see why not.” E. Gadd accepts the book with a light shrug. He could always scan the pages into The Witch’s database in the meantime. With his free hand, he shoos Luigi away. “Now go on home and get yourself cleaned up. I’ll wrap things up here.”

Luigi hesitates. He looks to Gooigi—a silent conversation seeming to pass between them (E. Gadd was always equal parts fascinated and annoyed when the duo communicated that way).

“I’ll tell him my side of the story up through the Clubba fight,” Gooigi signs to his partner, “You can take care of the rest.”

Luigi offers the ectomorph an appreciative nod before bidding him and the professor both goodbye. Pepper trots dutifully after the lad. Luigi pauses by their mortal clients to wish them well, and is quickly swarmed by the grateful youths, much to E. Gadd’s amusement.

The professor sets the spell book down by the Poltergust and claps his hands to get the Toads’ attention. “Alright, quit yer gawping! The house is clear and we’ve got work to do. Damage assessment and clean-up teams, hop to it!”

A scramble of squeaky shoes meets the professor’s ears as his assistants rush past him. When the last spotted head disappears through the front door, E. Gadd turns and strolls to the mailbox at the property’s edge. He stops next to it and claps sharply once more. “Construction team!”

Half a dozen spirits wearing yellow hardhats suddenly appear on the visible spectrum. The closest one to the professor—a Goob with oversized headgear—waves an arm wildly in the air like a student trying to get their teacher’s attention. “Present!” they yell loudly.

E. Gadd hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “I need a few of you to help the Toads with clean-up. The rest of you are on stand-by for repairs.”

The Goob offers him a mock salute. “You got it, boss!” They turn and wave to the rest of their team. A Hammer, a Boo, and another Goob split from the group and make their way to the house.

E. Gadd watches the trio as they give the large gathering of mortals a wide berth (rather considerate of them, given what the children have been through). The Boo suddenly slows, and turns toward the crowd, a befuddled look on their face. E. Gadd follows their gaze; they’re looking at Luigi. The man is talking to some of the parents, but E. Gadd (and the Boo, for that matter) are too far away to hear the conversation. Luigi makes a slow, deliberate gesture, and then with a flick of his wrist, a business card appears in his hand. With another flick, the singular card turns into several splayed out in a fan. Luigi’s audience ‘Ooo’ and clap lightly in amusement.

E. Gadd looks back to the Boo. They are squinting at Luigi, like he’s a puzzle they can’t quite work out. Yes, E. Gadd finds his protégé’s affinity for card tricks vexing at times (and it’s why he’s vowed never to play cards with the man), but he doesn’t see what the hubbub is about. Why would sleight of hand catch a Boo’s attention? Boos can literally turn things invisible—much more impressive, in the professor’s opinion. After a moment, the Boo bobs in their equivalent of a shrug—seemingly drawing the same conclusion—and follows their companions into the house.

Hmm… odd, but Boos are odd entities, so it checks out. There’s nothing to worry about.

Nothing at all.

It’s nearly sunrise by the time Luigi flops into bed. He had merely sighed, resigned, when he noticed the blue greys of the lightening sky as he went to draw his bedroom curtains closed. It isn’t the first time Luigi went to sleep at dawn, and it certainly won’t be the last.

A freshly bathed Pepper (much to the pup’s chagrin) is curled up at the foot of the bed, content, just as they had been mere hours ago. Luigi—also freshly bathed—is back in his spot. If not for the bone-deep exhaustion and scattering of fresh bruises, he could be convinced that he’d been home all night; that nothing had happened.

That nothing had changed. ⁷

Luigi frowns marginally. He eases himself up and holds out a hand, palm-up. He calls upon his Thunderhand technique and it responds in kind. Tiny arcs of electricity dance between his fingers with a blue-white glow. He snuffs it out with a clench of his fist.

Luigi glances around the room, as if checking for a potential audience. No one else is here—he knows this—but after tonight, he’s feeling unusually on-edge. All the shadows feel a little bit darker, the walls, a little closer.

He takes a deep breath and returns his gaze to his hand. He unclenches it and stares at his palm, brow furrowing as he tries to recall how he accessed that… other power. It hadn’t been a conscious action. It had felt… different—strange. Not completely unnatural, but not second nature, either; not like the Thunderhand.

Luigi thinks about the three instances when the phlox-hued energy sprung forth. All Luigi remembers is the fear, no, the anger that he had felt when he first used it. The second time might have been in response to an adrenaline spike as he pulled away from the revenants. The third time, he had been desperate. His options for neutralizing the ghost had been so severely limited, that he had fully intended to utilize the Thunderhand, even at his own risk. That was when the strange energy made itself known—like it was… for lack of a better word, volunteering.

Luigi continues to study his hand as he replays those moments once more. Not so much as a spark appears in his palm. Whatever this energy is, it doesn’t seem to be very forthcoming outside instances of stress. Perhaps emotions play a part as well? The thought is troublesome. Luigi isn’t an expert in the arcane, but he has learned enough to know that fueling one’s magic with emotions is ill-advised. Negative emotions, in particular, can lead to corruption.

A quiet boof pulls Luigi from his thoughts. He looks up to find Pepper watching him, their tail wagging with slow uncertainty. Luigi offers the spectral canine what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, Pepper,” he says. “I just got a lot on my mind, is all.”

The Polterpup being one of them, but considering other events, the enigma that is Pepper is quite a bit further down on the list of concerns.

Pepper stares back at Luigi, almost appraisingly. Their gently wagging tail suddenly picks up speed as they turn their focus to something over the plumber’s shoulder. Luigi’s heartrate skyrockets, and he only just keeps from whirling around in panic. He follows Pepper’s gaze at a perfectly reasonable level of urgency. The object of Pepper’s attention happens to be Luigi’s nightstand—specifically, one of the drawers.

Luigi rolls his eyes good naturedly. “Oh, alright. I suppose I did imply I’d give you one when we got back…”

Luigi leans over and pulls out a drawer. He reaches inside and feigns to dig through its contents, as if struggling to find what he is looking for. The bed is practically shaking with Pepper’s joyous anticipation. With an exaggerated cry of triumph, Luigi draws back with his prize: a large femur (one that didn’t once belong to a sapient being). He offers it to the Polterpup.

“Here you go, buddy,” he says, “You’ve more than earned it.”

Pepper whole-heartedly agrees. With a happy bark, they snatch up the bone and drag it back to their corner of the bed. Luigi fondly shakes his head as the spectral canine begins to gnaw on their treat with vigor.

Luigi turns back to the nightstand and pushes the drawer closed. As he pulls back, his eyes land on the book he had been reading a handful of hours ago. It rests innocently on the nightstand right where he had left it. He distantly notes the bookmark poking out from its pages. The page marker advertises that Luigi isn’t even a third of the way through the modest novel—he started reading it weeks ago. His painfully slow progress would typically annoy him (though it has long since become his new norm), but after tonight, Luigi finds himself oddly uncaring. He silently reaches over the neglected novel and turns off the lamp, bathing the room in darkness.

Curling up with a good book was the furthest thing from his mind.