The goodbye with the Fenton household was a chaotic affair. Jack Fenton nearly crushed Kael in a bear hug, nagging about "ecto-appendages" and promising to have the custom gear list Kael provided ready by the time he visited. Maddie's farewell was more gentle, a firm hand on his shoulder and a look that saw a little too much. "Be safe, Kael. And remember, our door is always open to you."
Jazz, handed him a small, wrapped package. "It's a journal," she said, a knowing glint in her eye. "For… processing. A change of scenery is a healthy coping mechanism." Kael accepted it with a genuine, if slightly guilty, smile.
Danny was the hardest of the four. There was no suspicion in his eyes, just a genuine disappointment at his closed one's departure. "You better not get all cool and forget about us in Elmerton," he said, punching Kael's arm lightly.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Kael replied, meaning it. "Save some high scores for me. I'll be back to crush you soon, champ."
With promises to call and visit, Kael finally got into the back of the hired car. As Amity Park shrank in the rearview mirror, he didn't feel a chapter closing, but a prelude to a new beginning. He was leaving the heart of the ghostly action, but he was taking its core with him.
The drive to Elmerton was a short one, the landscape shifting from Amity's suburban sprawl to a town that wore its history more openly. Elmerton was older, its foundations laid when the region was first settled. The downtown was a collection of sturdy brick buildings housing family-owned shops and a small, well-kept library. A single, reputable college—Elmerton Heights—perched on a hill overlooking the town, its Gothic spires a stark contrast to the more modern Casper High. It was a place of quiet industry and deep roots, the kind of town where secrets could be buried deep… or could brew just beneath the surface.
His Aunt Claire's house was exactly as he'd imagined from her descriptions, a charming, slightly weathered two-story colonial on a street lined with ancient oak trees. It had a wide porch with a swinging bench, white shutters framing the windows, and a small, meticulously kept garden. It was a warm and inviting home, different from the cold, majestic halls of the Veyne mansion.
Aunt Claire herself was a mirror of her home—warm, sharp, and orderly. A literature professor at the college, she greeted him at the door with a hug that smelled of old books and lavender. Her eyes, the same shade of gray as his own, held a deep, sympathetic warmth.
"Kael, sweetheart. Come in, come in. The travel must have exhausted you." She took him inside, her voice a calm, "Your room is upstairs, first on the right. I thought you'd appreciate the privacy. The bathroom is just across the hall, and my study is at the end if you ever need anything."
The room was perfect. It was spacious but cozy, with a large window looking out over the backyard and the dense line of trees that marked the beginning of the Elmerton Wood. A sturdy oak desk sat under the window, a built-in bookshelf stood empty, waiting for his things, and a comfortable-looking bed promised rest he desperately needed. It was a blank slate, a sanctuary.
The rest of the day was spent in unpacking and polite conversation over a simple, delicious dinner of roasted chicken and vegetables. Aunt Claire filled the silence with gentle talk about the town, the good schools, and her hope that he would find some peace here. Kael played his part perfectly—the grieving nephew, quiet, polite, and tired. It was a mask he was getting too good at wearing.
Later, lying in the unfamiliar bed in his new room, exhaustion weighed his limbs but his mind refused to quiet. Kael recalled his whole experience of the day. There was something off about this town. The silence of Elmerton was different from Amity Park; it was deeper, older, and it itched at his ghostly senses. The energy here was dormant, but it was there. He quickly came up with a plan. A quick aerial survey was crucial for establishing his new operational territory.
Slipping out of bed, he transformed in his ghost form. The familiar electric blue rings erupted silently, their silver ripples distorting the moonlit room for a split second before his Phantom form solidified. He phased through the window and into the cool night air.
Elmerton from above was a map of potential. He flew lazy, silent circuits, noting the key landmarks. The college campus, quiet and still. The winding river that cut through the town, its water dark and sluggish. And then, the two spots his research and instincts had flagged.
The first was the Elmerton Wood itself. From above, it was a sea of impenetrable shadow, a vast tract of wilderness that seemed to swallow the moonlight. His senses tingled with the low, steady hum of natural life, but beneath it was something else—a faint, gravitational pull, a potential ghost portal between two worlds could be lingering here.
The second was on the town's outskirts: the Old Elmerton Cemetery. It was a sprawling field of weathered headstones and ornate mausoleum, bordered by a rusted iron fence. It was the oldest part of town, the place where generations had been laid to rest. And to Kael's perception, it glowed. Not with light, but with a cold, concentrated ectoplasmic residue. It was a place of potent emotional energy, a beacon for any ghost drawn to sorrow, memory, or simply the easy anchor of consecrated ground. A natural portal could easily form here.
He went down, landing silently just outside the cemetery's main gate. The air was colder here, the silence absolute. He reached out with his senses, letting the temporal perception ability hum to life. The world slowed. He could hear the rustle of every leaf, the scuttle of insects in the dirt, the distant hum of a power line.
And then he felt it.
It was a spike—sharp, cold, and utterly strange. A ripple in the fabric of the world that didn't belong. It wasn't a full-blown portal, not yet. It was a… tear. A crack. Something small had slipped through. Or something was trying to.
His head snapped toward the heart of the cemetery, his eyes narrowing, their electric blue glow intensifying. His aura, usually a calm flicker, flared instinctively, the silver ripples within it twisting like agitated serpents. The vow he had made in his basement echoed in his mind. Guardian of both zones.
The peace of Elmerton was an illusion. The game had already begun.
He took a single, deliberate step past the iron gate, the shadows of the mausoleums stretching out to greet him like old friends. Or old enemies.