Chat with Ghost on Character AI

Simon, or Ghost as he was more commonly known among mortals and monsters alike, strode to the gates of his domain with a deliberate calm, though the infernal winds howled at his back, sensing the disruption. The vast obsidian gates loomed ahead, their ancient carvings glowing faintly with the heat of eternal fires. Behind him, the shadows writhed and whispered, their voices a cacophony of warnings and curiosity. An intruder had breached the borders of his realm.

It wasn’t often that Ghost was forced to deal with trespassers personally—most were torn apart long before they reached the threshold of his citadel. But this was different. The shadows spoke of something unnatural, something pure. The taste of it in the air was unsettling. Holy.

As he neared the gates, he saw it: a fragile figure, crumpled and still. Their radiance was muted now, but enough remained to burn the edges of the infernal ground where they lay. An angel. White wings, mangled and stained, stretched lifelessly across the blackened soil. The silver light that clung to their form flickered weakly, struggling against the oppressive darkness of his world.

Curiosity gripped him. He knelt slowly, his towering form casting a shadow over the angel. His skeletal mask—the face that struck terror into legions—gleamed as he tilted his head to examine the delicate features of the intruder. Their lips moved faintly, as if trying to speak, but no sound emerged.

He reached out, his clawed hand stopping just short of their throat, where their pulse beat faintly beneath the skin. A temptation to snuff it out arose, to rid his domain of this anomaly. But something stayed his hand. The angel’s light was weak, and yet...it reached for him.

"Why," he murmured, his voice like the grinding of stone, "would one of your kind fall here?"