Ghost had never imagined death being whimsical. Like a fairytale yet to unfold.

He laid here, wrapped in snow like a blanket, consciousness slowly slipping into the frigid winds that lashed at his face.

Ghost knew this mission was suicide, but there wasn't much to be done. When the Lord commands, everyone will fall in line or fall to certain doom.

No one had ever returned from Sarsis, no matter how many innocent souls the Lord sent to it, which meant information on the place was nonexistent. And, in turn, was killing Ghost.

Frostbite was the least of his problems, considering his little escapade had cost him his arms and a leg. Literally.

Ghost was, in no uncertain terms, going to die.

Now, you're probably wondering, what happened to Ghost?

Well, Ghost had lost his limbs to the snow. Actually, he had no idea what had stolen precious pieces of his body, but he assumed it was the snow.

Crimson bloomed in the snow around him. His remaining leg twitched as Ghost's vision dimmed. His breaths grew shallow, merely white puffs in the air that faded as quickly as they appeared.

Ghost didn't feel cold. He didn't feel anything. He just slowly blinked up and the ever-present gray that stretched over him.

And then he felt heat. Scorching heat.

Ghost couldn't move, for he was frozen and weak from blood loss.

A handsome face appeared in his line of sight. Light brown hair draped in Ghost's face, tickling his eyelids, and stormy orbs bore into his, matching the gray expanse above them.

The face disappeared and the sky began to move. Ghost watched this in muted awe.

Then something incredibly intriguing happened. Everything went dark and quiet.

Only when Ghost woke did he realize he'd passed out.

Ghost had never been a fan of white, sterilized places. Namely hospitals.

And yet he was lying in a hospital bed, wrapped in so many bandages he couldn't move.

He felt sick to his stomach. he'd definitely been drugged with something nasty that was hindering his ability to think like a normal person.

And, very evidently, was making him hallucinate because he was seeing a person. . .or giant spider above him on the ceiling.

His eyes followed the spider down the wall until it stood beside his bed. Ghost blinked and felt a laugh rise in his chest.

He would've laughed too, if a horrible pain hadn't speared every inch of his body. The only noise he made was a strangled groan.

The spider person placed a hand over his head and the pain dulled. more drugs.

"Who?" Ghost croaked, unused to talking.

"Clock, weaving the webs of time."

Ghost looked to the door as it creaked open and young man stepped through, dressed in dark blue scrubs.

He was writing on a clipboard and paying little attention to the world around him.

Only when Clock cleared their throat did he look up from his fervent writing.

Clock gestured impatiently to Ghost and the man walked over to his bed. He smiled at Ghost.

"Nice to meet you, my name's Louie," he said. He sure did have the appearance of a Louie.

His skin was a rich shade of brown that reminded Ghost on brown axinite. Lucious black curls spilled over his shoulders and those same gray eyes that Ghost remembered stared at him.

He caught the slightest bit of suspicion in Louie's eyes, but then he looked away to Clock.

They began to converse and Ghost surrendered to the drugs. He fell into a loose sleep, catching snippets of conversation between bouts of nightmares.

One nightmare was particularly bad.

Ghost dreamed of the Sea Maiden he'd been tasked with killing two years prior. Except now she wore the face of a woman who was exceptionally familiar to ghost, but whom he didn't know.

Ghost stood paralyzed as the Sea Maiden crept closer and clawed a finger under his skin, peeling his face off and robbing him of his identity.

He woke screaming and gasping for air.

Someone bolted to their feet next to him. Ghost's gaze snapped instantly to them. His eyes adjusted to the dark and he discovered Louie.

Louie shushed him and put a hand on his forehead.

"You're burning up," he whispered. Then he disappeared out the door.

Ghost laid in the dark, trying to quiet his sniffles.

A moment later, the room was deathly silent, with the exception of Ghost's finally steady breaths.

The door opened again and Louie made his way to Ghost's side, a bowl burdening his hands.

He set the bowl upon the side table and wrung out a rag. He placed this rag of Ghost's forehead with delicate care.

The cool dampness immediately calmed Ghost. He blinked up at Louie, staring into those eyes of steel.

Louie smiled and patted Ghost's shoulder. "Get some sleep."

Ghost obeyed, because despite the horrible nightmares, he was exhausted. Drained to the bone.

The dream Ghost had wasn't a nightmare. In fact, it almost didn't feel like a dream at all.

A pair of people stood together in front of him.

One was tall and fair, with snow for hair and frost for eyes. Her gaze was harsh and frigid.

The other was short and dark, with chestnut-colored orbs and chocolate for hair. His gaze was full of mischief and warmth.

They stared at Ghost for a long while before the short one cracked a grin and the tall one spoke.