Paranoia was a strange thing... A small voice whispering endless lies into the ears of anxious souls. It feared everyone and everything. Why are people staring? What was that noise? Who is that standing in the shadows? Such thoughts seeped into the mind, bringing dreadful shivers with them. Soon every shadow seemed to have eyes. Something constantly lurked at the edge of the vision, but vanished as soon as one tried to look at it. Normal people were able to dismiss these whispers as simple anxiety. People were actually minding their own business. That noise was just a stray cat. The person in the shadows was only a figment of imagination. Everything had a sensible explanation. Nothing to worry about. But here’s the thing many tended to forget...

It’s not paranoia when someone really is after you.

While the anxious ice mage made his way through the streets, something stalked a good distance behind him. From alley to alley, shadow to shadow... This shady silhouette did indeed have eyes. Violet orbs decorated with swirls gleamed in the dark. The creature moved with unnatural speed, vanishing behind a convenient corner whenever someone drew too close. Its movements were utterly soundless, like it wasn’t even there. Bystanders who caught a glimpse of the grim figure gasped before rubbing their eyes. Most were quick to shake their eyes and chuckle at their overactive imagination. Because it had to be just their imagination. Ghosts weren’t real... Right?

Meanwhile, the aforementioned ghost was desperately trying to keep her frayed nerves from snapping. During her daily walk, she had come across someone... suspicious! She had seen a mysterious stranger sneaking around near the guild hall. Something about him felt... off. Perhaps it was the way he walked, or the way he glanced around, she wasn’t quite sure. However, he was clearly looking for something... or someone. Very few people came around the guild ever since... the dragon incident... Weirder yet, he was clearly making his way towards Judith’s house. What if he was someone dangerous? A thug? Or a foreign assassin? Oh dear, ohdearohdearohdear, this was not good.

Mary swallowed the clump of nervousness gathering in her throat. Judith’s home wasn’t far now. I-if she were to stop this man, it had to be n-now... or never. She rather liked the sound of that latter option. However, it was quickly shaken out of her mind. No, she owed a deep debt to the kind old woman. She would not let this criminal anywhere near her dear friend. With another soundless dash, the stalker self-proclaimed protector hurried ahead of the stranger. She stepped from hiding to block his path. The gleaming spiral eyes focused a piercing stare on him. Grim, raspy words crawled from her throat. “St̗̞̞a͕͓y.̣̪.̬ͅ. ͔̱̮aw̯̹ay͕̬..͔̱.” Aaaand then she completely forgot what else she was going to say.

While the suspicious stranger was startled off-balance, the ghoulish woman was practically petrified. Unmoving, unblinking... Not even breathing. In true ghost fashion, she just loomed there menacingly. His wavering words received no response at first. ...They kind of drowned beneath all the internal screaming. Mary was scared witless, unable to form a single coherent thought. She had to desperately clench every muscle in her body to stop herself from trembling. Those piercing blue eyes felt like they were staring directly into her soul. Scary scary scary, strangers were scary!!!

However, when the oddly handsome thug continued pleading, the gloomy mage finally managed to catch some keywords. Mother...? Tea...? Naturally, the wave of anxiety hit her first. Her mind was screeching at her that she had made a terrible mistake. Yet paranoia still managed to weave past the bursts of panic... And whispered into her ear... What if he was lying? Her unblinking eyes widened. The swirly pupils shrank into scrutinizing pinpricks. Indeed. What if it was just a convenient lie? A cover story for exactly this kind of situation... Well, one might argue it was kind of a stretch, but since when had paranoia listened to logic?

Mary twitched. Slowly he raised a finger in an awkward, stiff point, like a corpse tugged by invisible strings. “P-prove... it...” In contrast to the raspy growl earlier, her words now came as a quiet hiss. (Un)fortunately for everyone involved, she had read some detective stories lately. From them came an idea... She needed to ask him something only Judith’s son would know. A detail that eluded strangers. Like... “What... is your mother’s name...?” Yes. Surely no random thug would know that. Her plan was flawless.

Upon hearing the name, Mary recoiled with a startled gasp. “...!” Her eyes went wide with sheer shock. I-it was... correct! And when her paranoia, fueled by too many detective stories, tried to protest... The stranger further enforced his position. That did indeed sound like Judith she knew. She looked him up and down, trying to absorb the revelation. After meeting the old woman’s other son, she had expected someone... taller? To be honest, now she wasn’t so sure what she had expected. So he wasn’t a thug or an assassin after all... B-but wait, then that meant... Her heart stopped. Icy shivers crawled down her back.

Ohlordsshehadmadeaterriblemistake!

As the mysterious son got back on his feet, the creepy woman suddenly dropped to her knees. She bowed her head so low that -bonk- she accidentally bashed it against the pavement. A trickle of blood painted the cobblestone. Yet not even a concussion could stop her groveling. “I’m so-sorry!” Her apology came out as a panicked shriek. “I saw you sneaking, Imean, walking around and I followed you because I thought you looked, erm, Imean, seemed unusual and I’ve never seen you before and Judith lives here so I thought...” The strange explanation quickly devolved into incomprehensible mumbling. Something about thugs and assassins and repaying eternal debt.

By now the eerie ghoul was quivering like a leaf in the wind. All those suppressed shivers were now dancing a jig along her spine. “I’m sorry, sorry, sorrysorrysorry...” She wasn’t sure if it was enough for the grave disrespect she had just directed at him. No, of course it wasn’t... However, she did know a way to fix this. “T-to regain your honor, p-please step on my head...” Okay, maybe she panicked and had nothing better to offer, but she dearly prayed it would be enough. Back home, certain families and figures would’ve jumped at the chance to humiliate a commoner who dared to disrespect them. Sometimes literally.

Despite the young man’s best attempts to defuse the situation, the gloomy woman was reading all wrong into it. His refusal rang through her ears as disdain. He didn’t want to dirty his shoes on a worthless peasant. His pride was worth more than a measly apology. That’s all it could mean, right? Right... She wasn’t even good enough to be stepped on... Glimmering pearls gathered in the corners of her eyes. “I... I understand...” She muttered meekly. “I’m sorry... f-for wasting your time...” Her weak voice wavered with each word. Desperately she raked her brain trying to figure out a suitable apology. What else could she offer? Did she even possess anything of value he might want?

Fortunately for both anxious wrecks, someone more sensible entered the scene. Mary flinched when another pair of feet stepped in front of her. W-who...? Her eyes widened when she saw an older man, a spitting image of the young stranger, before her. She was too scared to resist as he forced her to face him. Slowly the imaginary gears turned, until the realization hit her. He had to be... his father! To disrespect the son of her friend was one unforgivable... And to do so in front of his father was utterly foolish. Internal screaming drowned the rest of her thoughts.

No matter how hard the ghastly mage prayed for swift, unceremonious death, the gods refused to grant her even a simple heart attack. She was doomed to sit here and suffer. Truly a fate worse than death. She trembled so much it was kind of starting to look like she was vibrating. Tremble, tremble, tremble... Without end in sight. Well, at least there was a silver lining to the situation. While Anders inspected the wound, he would find it minor. Miniscule even. Just a bleeding scrape caused by a forehead meeting a pointy rock. She wouldn’t die from it. ...Much to her silent dismay.

Once the trembling ghoul stopped screaming internally, she promptly prostrated herself again. Back down to the ground, a fitting place for a worthless worm, nay, lousy dirt rather. “I’m sorry, Mister Flanders...” Another family member encountered, another name mangled. She was terrible at this. It was a miracle she didn’t forget his name completely. Her explanations were getting shorter and quieter. “I just tried to help...” And exactly that was the problem. No one here had asked nor needed her ‘help’.

Resembling a rag doll, the meek mage was picked up from the ground. Limp and lifeless... It was a small miracle she still managed to stay on her feet. The kind words were met with a solemn stare. An ominous mutter left her lips. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions... They say...” While it was true her intentions had been pure, the end result still remained the same. She had horribly disrespected the family of the only person she dared to call a friend anymore... Unforgivable. The guilt on her shoulders felt nothing short of crushing.

...Soooo it was a good thing a distraction came along.

Mary snapped out of the spiral of dark thoughts when the garden was mentioned. She blinked at the comment. Once. Twice. Utterly baffled. “Flowers...? M-my opinion...?” She didn’t quite understand what was going on, but followed along regardless. Twiddling her fingers together, she stopped at the edge of the yard. It felt like a threshold she shouldn’t cross. However, with Waylon’s manipulation encouragement, she managed to gather enough courage to keep walking. She approached the garden, quite confused by all this. Strange were people who invited ghosts into their home...

Surprise silenced the sadness. Curiosity finally overpowered anxiety. Carefully the gloomy woman stepped around the flowerbeds, inspecting the wonders planted there. She knelt down to inspect the Hellebores, curious about their coloration. It was quite different from traditional red roses and white lilies. Then she studied the unusual shape of the Voodoo Lilies. So flowers could grow like this too...? The Iris Plant seemed more familiar, as far as flowers went. She had vague memories of seeing them in her aunt’s garden.

Last, but not least, there was the large, plumpy and oddly-shaped flower. It reminded Mary of a gaping maw. She leaned down and took a deep whiff. ...A terrible idea, really. As soon as the first wisps of scent reached her nose, she twitched and froze in place. Her pale features started turning... uh... kind of green. There was a reason why Corpse Flowers had such a gruesome nickname. Their strong scent, or stench rather, shared striking similarities with a rotting corpse... Staggering back, the woozy woman lifted her hand to her lips. “Urp...” Too late. A spray of... uh... ‘sparkles and rainbows’ followed, splattering the ground. “Bleeeeeergh...” It was a good thing she had only eaten a light breakfast.

It was just one mess after another. Mary clutched her stomach, praying that the earth would open up and swallow her. Unfortunately, the gods didn’t hear her. Or simply didn’t care. She wiped away the gross residue from her lips with a feeble mutter. “I’m... sorry...” It still felt like her stomach had been turned upside down. Just staying on her feet took conscious effort. She glanced down... Aaaand immediately had to clamp her mouth shut. N-no, not again... Fortunately the older man had acted fast and taken the smelly culprit away. Then again, it wasn’t really fair to blame the flower. She was the one to blame for being so careless... Maybe some flowers just didn’t want to be smelled by humans.

With a trembling hand, the gloomy woman accepted the glass of water. Anything to get the lingering taste out of her mouth... A big gulp washed away the worst of it. Handing the empty glass back, she started twiddling her fingers together. Finding the right words was difficult, especially when she was on the verge of dying from sheer shame. “P-please... Don’t tell Judith about this...” After a brief pause, she hurried to clarify. “A-any of this...” She felt that she had already disappointed the kind, old woman several times. If these disasters were also added to the list, she wouldn’t be able to make things right... Not during her lifetime anyway.

While the members of the Wraith family did have all of eternity to fix their mistakes, Mary was painfully aware that most people did not have the lifespan nor the patience to wait that long. So she needed to get started right now. “M-may I please borrow a mop or a rag...?” She glanced down at the mess. “I... I’ll uh... clean it up...” Right. Because mopping grass would certainly help. Deep down, she realized that... But she was still desperate to do something, anything, to repay her second disrespectful gesture today.

Much to the creepy ghoul’s immediate horror, the older man reminded her that Judith had a way of finding out. Panic traced its cold claws down her back. O-oh dear... He was right... She tried to think of a way to fix that. “Um... Uh... W-well, my father has told me that the only way two people can keep a secret is if one of them is dead...” Her expression brightened as she got an idea. “So we simply have to die. For dead people tell no tales.” Her hopeful tone was a poor fit for the grim suggestion.

When Anders returned with a shovel and a bucket, a sudden spark of understanding gleamed in Mary’s eyes. Rather than try to mop up what was already soaking into the soil, they could dig up the tainted dirt instead. “Ah, I see... Yes, I think that’s for the best...” This was something quite familiar to her. For obvious reasons. “Let us bury my earthly remains... So they may never rise again...” And so that Judith might never find out. Certain things were best left buried. ...Hm, maybe if she asked nicely, she might be allowed to borrow the shovel afterwards. She could dig her own grave while they were at it. Oh, n-not here though... Somewhere more private, perhaps.

While cleaning up the mess, the gloomy woman feared the approaching awkward silence. She was desperate to keep it away, so she mumbled quietly and mostly to herself. “This reminds me of my time at the academy...” Her tone sounded almost wistful. Well, to be honest, she did miss the simpler times. “I took a course in digging graves once... Cemetery Upkeep 101, I think...” An important course for her family to be sure. Everyone took it, even those who didn’t specialize in the subject. “It was quite tough... But rather rewarding as well...” She stopped to wipe away beads of sweat. Physical labor didn’t really agree with her, but she would try her best.

Little by little, the stained dirt and grass was moved into the bucket. Anders did more work with the shovel than Mary managed to do with her hands though. Eventually the remains of the incident were all in the bucket, ready to be disposed of. The only evidence left was the patch of upturned dirt. Out of old habit, the eerie woman knelt down to brush and pat the dirt until it was starting to resemble a tiny grave. She even found a suitably flat rock for a miniature tombstone. It was a little early to decorate for All Hallow’s Eve though...

Mary’s shoulders sagged when her suggestion got immediately shot down. “I see...” Why did no one ever like her ideas? A twinge of envy pierced her chest when the older man mentioned getting his very own grave. It was not polite to yearn for what other people got, but... This simply didn’t feel fair. Hm, maybe if she asked nicely, Judith would put her into a grave as well. It was worth a shot, she felt. Her other guildmates always got so oddly quiet and strange whenever she brought it up around them. At this point it felt like they weren’t even there anymore. But Judith would understand, right? Right...

Fitting today’s theme of good intentions gone wrong, Anders’ joking nickname was met with deathly silence. Slowly the grim woman lifted her gaze from the little grave she had fashioned. After a tense pause, she managed to get out a single word. “S-spooky...?” Quiet disbelief colored her pale features. She lowered her head and her bangs hid her eyes beneath a dark shadow. “I... don’t look that spooky...” The protest was given in the softest little mutter. Yet the doubt still gnawed at the back of her mind. “...Do I?” She had been called many impolite things over the years. Gloomy, creepy... But spooky? Did she truly look that sinister? Enough to inspire fear and unease? She didn’t want to believe it.

Still staring at the miniature grave, the eerie mage tried to silence the whispers swirling inside her head. A distraction... She needed something, anything else to think about... It was not in her heart to pry, however. The topic had to be something related that didn’t get too personal. “Um...” As usual, her mouth moved faster than her mind. “A-about Mister Regis...” Before she was quite finished with the thought, it already slipped past her lips. “D-did you craft his lovely armor as well...?” It never occurred to her that the particular armored son might be something of a sore subject in the family.

Over the years, the gloomy woman had gotten used to careless comments. Kind of. They only kept her up at night for a couple of hours as opposed to the whole night. However, the thing that really hurt was the hasty, little lies told right afterwards... People realized that they had said too much. Told her something they thought she knew too. And what had once been said could not be taken back... She cast a solemn look towards Anders and muttered something non-committal. “I... see...” It wouldn’t have been polite to push the matter. His words would haunt her regardless.

With the misunderstanding taking root in Mary’s mind, even kind words were starting to sound twisted. Waylon’s compliment was met with a quiet, creepy stare. Rather than hearing the word ‘pretty’, she instead clung onto the word before it... Fear... He had been afraid of her. In hindsight, it had been all her fault. She had done something horrible, blocking his path and pressing for answers like that. And since she looked... Spooky... Then of course he would be afraid of her. It all started making a terrible amount of sense. Guilt dug its cold claws deep into her soul.

While the two men recalled the tale of the armor, the eerie mage was barely listening anymore. Usually she would have been enamored by the story, perhaps even asked how much it would cost to craft a set for herself. As a decoration of course. But right now... The awkward air wouldn’t go away. After a moment of tense silence, she rose from the ground. “I... must go...” Step by step, she inched backwards. “I’m sorry... for everything...” Her steps quickened, until she practically dashed away. Her grim silhouette quickly vanished down the street. In the end, the anxiety proved too powerful.

((Exit.))