Hallowed: Parts 1 & 2 E-Book

Geanna Culbertson

• Herausgeber: Culbertson Kingdom
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

In the closer-than-you-think Calendar Realm, there are 12 kingdoms—one for every month of the year. As sole heir to the fall-tastic kingdom of October, Eve Celt has always wanted to be as strong and balanced as her fierce parents. From embracing her powers of light and shadow, to fighting phantoms from the Ghost Dimension, she’s trained with a Vampire-hybrid coach her entire life to increase her magic and self-esteem so she can inherit the throne and live up to these expectations.

Unfortunately, when the confident, charismatic son of a noble family overthrows her parents and turns her into a puppet princess, her world and the neighboring realm of Earth are thrust into danger.

The support of her “monster” pals and friendly-ghost best friend won’t be enough to save the day. To reclaim her kingdom and keep darkness from overtaking October and other worlds, Eve must learn to save herself. With the help of a Ghost Hunting web series team in Seattle, and its engineer host holding his own mysterious past, Eve is in for an epic adventure across worlds as she discovers her own power and the true magic of Halloween.

Leseprobe

CONTENTS

PART 1

PART 1 - Dedication

PART 1 - Bonus Dedication

P1 - Chapter 1 - Hollow

P1 - Chapter 2 - Eighteen Years Ago

HALLOWED – Part 1

© 2025 Geanna Culbertson. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopying, audiovisual, or recording, except for minimal partial inclusion in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Published in the United States (Compton, California) by Culbertson Kingdom—a publishing house otherwise known as Culbertson Kingdom, LLC

978-1-968192-01-3 (print)

979-8-9907874-5-2 (ebook)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2025913729

Cover concept and design: Geanna Culbertson

Cover design: Ellis Dixon, behance.net/ellisdixon

Interior design: Culbertson Kingdom & Ellis Dixon

Editor: Pearlie Tan

This book is dedicated to the greatest mom in this galaxy and any other. Mom, you’re my best friend, my mother koala, my reason for being able to accomplish my goals and work hard toward them every day. Thank you for making my world better in all ways.

Supreme Thanks to My Stellar Production Team:

Pearlie Tan

Ellis Dixon

Additional Thanks to Awesome Book Supporters:

Gallien Culbertson

Joe Upton

Debbie Scalise

Christine Fine

Alexa Carter

Grace Ip

Elena Reznikova

Special Mention, Including:

Girl Scouts of the USA, Ronda Sussman, Shellie Massick, Dr. Vikki Shepp, // TECHYSCOUTS, Brent Murakami, Susana Patel, Octavio Avila, IBPA, Scott Lockwood, Aryana Williams, Jacquie Irvine, Seyi Fabuluge, Aimee Jackson, Kumi Matsuoka, Sam Domenick, Katharine S. of Vellum, Kayla Fitzpatrick, Jocelyn Salguero, Maryam Al-Hammami, Todd Flanagan, and Bradley a.k.a Soft Kitty.

Every book I write is also specifically dedicated to a unique individual who has positively impacted my journey.

PART 1 of HALLOWED is dedicated to my cousin George. Because he’s awesome. Because he makes me smile. Because he is one of the most important members of my book team. His help and support are pivotal to me making it out there.

GEORGE!!!

When was the last time you looked in the mirror and saw the person you wanted to be looking back?

For me, it had been a while since I faced the glass and saw her. Though to be fair it had been a long time since I’d even had the courage to look.

That wasn’t because I feared she wasn’t there. I knew she was—an ideal version of me who I’d never grown into but who shared my reflection nonetheless.

No, my reason for not wanting to look was because I didn’t want to meet her eyes. If I did, I would have to own the fact that I’d let her down.

In an effort to avoid that, every time I sat at the onyx desk in my room with its grand gothic mirror, I shied away from direct eye contact. Like now, for instance, as I secured my hair bun with a final bobby pin, I kept my gaze fixed on my scooped-up locks—all bronze except for a naturally growing dark-green streak on the right side of my head.

As the pin left my fingers, for a moment my attention wandered down my neck to the two jagged scars above my clavicle. They weren’t particularly conspicuous. Unless you were inspecting closely, they would probably escape your notice. I couldn’t help zeroing in on them though. In the same way a prisoner couldn’t forget the bars that made their room a cell, these marks were a permanent reminder of the day my sentence began, a tattoo commemorating my sorrow and failure.

My gaze flicked to the glass bowl on my desk in follow-up reflex—full of dead white orchids.

A bottomless birdcage sat on top of the bowl, its canopy covering the rim. Inside that cage another white flower was loosely tied to a perch with its own stems, edges frayed from where they’d been ripped from the wild. It’d only been a day since that orchid had been placed there, yet it was already starting to wilt. Soon it would swan dive to its death below, joining its kin.

A tragedy in slow motion.

I stood abruptly, unsettled by how much that fate resonated with me. Though this was my kingdom, I was as much the queen of this place as a frog without a magic kiss could become a prince.

It wasn’t meant to be like this. My regal-in-every-way parents had died a couple of years ago and, as the sole heir to the kingdom of October, I was supposed to inherit their legacy and command.

That responsibility was even bigger than it sounded and had always made me feel small by comparison.

October was one of 12 kingdoms in our dimension, the Calendar Realm. Here it was always October and our atmosphere, culture, people, and practices reflected this month—distinct from the kingdoms of February, April, July, and so on, which had their own unique makeup.

What all 12 kingdoms did share was the way we influenced surrounding dimensions, especially our overall closest space-time neighbor: Earth. Our month energies, attitudes, and traditions seeped out to affect how different worlds, like Earth, experienced October, November, December, and so forth when those months came to pass naturally in their calendar years. In other words, the vibes here affected the vibes there.

The specifics of that were unknown to me and the rest of October. There were only a few kingdoms in the Calendar Realm that had access to worlds beyond our dimension, Earth included. We weren’t allowed to share many details about that with each other, but because of those kingdoms we did have confirmation that the impact was real.

For example, I had learned from a friend in the kingdom of December that the elevated levels of cheer and altruism in their land affected other dimensions by influencing people to embrace generosity and caring way more than usual when their worlds celebrated December. Additionally, that friend told me that her kingdom’s regular practice of giving presents, the elf species native to their land, their people’s love of candy canes and baked goods, and their eternally cold climate were also big parts of what went on in December in other worlds.

None of that was relevant to October, but it did illustrate that a wide range of Calendar Realm elements could bear weight on outside worlds.

That made me wonder how October vibes in different realms had declined over the last two years in response to the drastic changes that had occurred here. While it hadn’t been long since things took a darker turn in my kingdom, it had been such a hard turn that it felt like forever.

That haunted me. Because while the negative energy of this change dragged down my people in ways I saw every day, it could also be damaging the month of October across countless worlds in ways I couldn’t imagine.

Add that to the list of things I felt responsible for . . .

With a sigh, I walked across the large black-and-white checkered tile of my bedroom—past the fireplace and on to the bookshelf. There wasn’t much to do in here other than read and wonder. As the latter usually provided a quick train to torturing myself, I selected a text from the shelf at random.

The silver finishing on the spine caught the light burning inside my white marble fireplace. Those flames were a warm, golden orange compared to the old-pumpkin shade of my queen-size canopy bed. As noted, the only thing in here that looked and functioned in queen capacity.

I made the return journey and went past my desk to the sole, large window in my room—easily two wingspans in length and over twice my height. I tucked my maple-colored skirt under me and sat on the padded windowsill. The fact that there was no glass covering the grand, arched window teased the possibility of a grander escape, but only if I learned to fly.

While my room was technically on the sixth floor, it felt so much higher because it was situated at the top of our castle’s tallest tower.

I gazed outside at my one regular connection with my home world. Below, guards patrolled the tall, locked metal gate. Beyond that, a huge road covered with crispy leaves wound its way off our property, splitting in three in the distance. Everything else in my vantage was natural beauty. I could get lost staring at all those acres of deciduous forest that surrounded the castle.

“Hey!”

I turned as my friend Fright phased through the wall. She was the most nonthreatening—the only nonthreatening—spirit I’d ever known.

While all other displaced ghosts I’d encountered were spooky, blue-gray things, Fright was relatively pleasant-looking. Only about eighteen inches tall, she looked like a toddler had thrown a white sheet over itself for a makeshift Halloween costume.

Her head was round on top. Her form went straight down at the sides except for two short arms with curved ends—no fingers, only thumbs. Meanwhile, the base of her body ended in five small bumps, and her eyes were big and black like a woodland creature on a sugar high. Presently they seemed to hold some concern.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“You’ve got incoming creeps,” she said. “I was doing my invisible thing around the tower when I saw a couple of Tim’s goon-guards going up the stairs.”

I glanced at the golden clock above my fireplace. “Strange. He should still be in meetings.”

I heard the metallic scrape of the iron latches outside my bedroom door being unlocked. Fright flew to my side as I stood from the windowsill.

The door opened and two soldiers entered. They wore the standard dark green armor of our royal guards and sported the not-so-standard blue-gray glowing outline of humans possessed by ghosts.

That was not the only unnatural part of their appearance. The longer a ghost possessed someone, the more intense the physical transformation. One of the soldiers had a half-decayed face, a missing eyeball, and long donkey ears growing out of his head. The other guard’s jaw was eerily transparent, revealing the underlying muscle and bone. He also had an extra pair of arms.

They were difficult to look at, but I’d seen way worse. Most of the monsters in my life were annoyingly attractive.

“Come,” said black-eyeball, beckoning me.

“Why?” I asked.

Possessed people were drones in a lot of ways—bodies and brains deferring to whoever controlled them. Being that mindless meant being majorly voiceless, but after being possessed for a long time, they could communicate slightly. My questions, like their answers, just had to be short.

“Change of plan,” black-eyeball responded.

“Wow, a three-word answer,” Fright mused. “Get this guy a PhD.”

The goon-guards stared. Humor went over their heads like a poorly thrown knife.

“Fine,” I said to the men, if you could even call them that.

I looked to Fright.

“Do you want me to go with you for invisible support?” she asked expectantly.

I nodded, she disappeared, and I followed my escorts out the door. Though most of the tower was built of dark stone, the winding steps were creaky old wood. Every step was auditory hesitance.

One guard stayed in front of me as we descended, the other followed behind in case I tried anything. I hadn’t in a while, but they didn’t know how broken I was. Only one person really knew that.

Once on ground level, a thin stained-glass path cut through the center of every walkway. It was a patchwork of autumnal colors from the warmest gold to the harshest crimson. It was also one part of my home’s interior that remained unchanged.

The vines growing along the walls of my castle had somehow sensed the new era and withered a while ago. Now they were dry and black, but still clinging on like an arthritic hand clutching a railing. The flowers that used to flourish in luminescent amber planters were similarly decaying. And the circular iron chandeliers above held floating balls of toxic-green fire instead of the vibrant orange flames that used to be there. I wasn’t sure if that change was from witchcraft or if the fire could feel the infection that had seeped into the palace, but the color made everything look like I felt on the inside—like my world had been poisoned.

As we continued, we passed other guards—all with the same blue-gray outline, but their own unique disfigurements courtesy of whatever phantom had gotten hold of them two years ago. Evil spirits that left their dimension, the Ghost Zone, and entered any other world needed a living host to remain there. Once they got inside of a human, it was almost certain doom for that person unless someone intervened to rip the spirit out before the mortal soul within was buried.

Those “someones” used to be my parents. Sadly, they weren’t here. It was just me.

I looked one of the possessed guards in their black, glimmering eyes for a moment. They were as vacant as an abandoned building. As haunting as a mansion with no tenants, only lore.

I felt a flicker of dark sorrow in my heart as I remembered that they weren’t always this way. The flicker burned harder when I realized they probably didn’t remember that in the slightest.

The possessed never showed any signs that the people inside were still there, still conscious in any capacity. It was a long-established understanding that when the dead took you over for an extended period, your mind and heart died, even if your physical body didn’t.

My mainly dead guides and I arrived at the ballroom. A couple of goon-guards—as Fright and I called them—were posted at the entrance. They pulled the heavy dual doors. On opening, they only creaked slightly. However, the jarring boom when they closed behind me had the intimidation of a coffin sealing shut, only ten times louder.

The goon-guard who’d been in front of me moved out of my way. That’s when I realized the man who’d bid me to come here wasn’t even present.

I strode over the blue sapphire floor. It was like an enchanted ocean that drastically contrasted the color of the dark orange, metal ceiling. Glancing at it, I thought how interesting it was that the world could look so different depending on your mindset. When I was little, I considered the elaborately crafted orange metal ceiling pretty. Now all I saw was its harshness. The severe, twisted design reminded me of rose bushes without flowers—no grace, only sharpness.

On my left and right, a dozen goon-guards with zombie expressions and scary attributes stood along the side walls. Though they were presently still as statues, and stared forward like empty vessels, I knew each of them could tear a person apart. I’d seen it with my own eyes. So I ignored them and continued across the space, wielding one of the only weapons I hadn’t been stripped of yet—indifference.

It was not the fiercest tool, but it was better than nothing. It was certainly preferrable to anyone, possessed or otherwise, seeing my emotions get the better of me.

I paused in front of the raised platform at the back of the ballroom where my parents’ powerful seats daunted me. The ballroom was also the throne room, and theirs were made of black quartz like every wall of our castle. The thrones were also encrusted with sparkling blue sapphires to match the floor, plus orange sapphires to complement the ceiling.

I stared at the empty chairs. Standing so close to them felt more like a punishment than temptation.

For the good of my fragile psyche, I looked away and tried my best to feel nothing. It was getting easier after all this time. My subconscious was now a distant wail in the wind rather than the piercing scream of someone drowning in front of me.

It was fascinating how you could get so used to living with monsters that life with them felt almost normal. I didn’t consider “getting used” to a bad situation a very courageous thing to do, especially when fighting back was always a standing, albeit infinitely more-risky, option. But as I couldn’t fight the threats here and win, not letting their existence bother me was better than nothing. Particularly when the person at the reins of the monster party made me feel like nothing.

The boom of the grand doors announced his arrival and I turned.

Tim.

“Thanks for joining me,” he said, crossing the massive room.

“You always say that like I have a choice,” I replied.

“Formal education, what are you gonna do?” He gave me a sly smile. “That’s obviously a trick question. I know the answer is stand there and take it.”

He stepped up to the platform and sat in my father’s throne. Though I’d long trained my face to play it cool, my eyes weren’t as obedient. I couldn’t help but glare at him.

It was irritating when the person you hated most only looked better with age, rather than their inner ugliness taking the lead.

While Tim still had the same unruly bedhead as when we first met, over time it had been trimmed and shaped so the scruff looked dashing, not messy. His clothes were a much sharper, stylish version of the brooding Goth boy I’d known when we were kids. For example, today he wore a slim cut, dark purple suit, a thin black tie, and a raven-black pocket square. And while he was tall and thin, regular combat training prevented him from looking lanky. He’d grown into power; it suited him like his tailored garments.

“I thought we weren’t seeing each other until mandatory Wednesday dinner,” I said flatly.

“I wanted to talk to you about our social calendar before then. How do you feel about a party?”

“If it’s a going away party for you, I’m all for it. Or a wake.”

He smirked.

“No such luck, I’m afraid.” Tim leaned back. “The situation is this. A couple of weeks ago we received an invitation to attend a ball hosted by the 17th district. I declined on our behalf, but I’ve been thinking. The leaders of all 31 districts know that I call the shots, but they’re under the impression that you still have some say. They just think that we have a different approach to our ‘shared’ rule than your parents. They don’t know the details.”

“Ah, the details,” I mused. “Is that what we’re calling your coup and keeping me under house arrest for two years?”

“You go out.”

“When you want to parade me around like a figurehead.”

“Parades are fun. And it’s better to be a figurehead than lose your head.”

I crossed my arms. “Better for you too. None of this works for you if I’m dead.”

He shrugged. “Hey, aren’t we supposed to complete each other? You’re the wind beneath my wings and I’m⁠—”

“The key to my padlock.”

“You said it, not me.”

I huffed, aggravated. “Alright. Get on with it,” I said, hoping to minimize my time with him as much as possible. “Not that I don’t enjoy leaving my room for a walk like a cockapoo on a leash, but what about the 17th district’s ball has prompted you to have a party? Why now?”

Tim sat forward, more purposeful. “In last two years that I’ve been king I’ve attended a handful of fancy functions on my own, claiming you were busy or sick. I’ve also declined quite a few functions, including this one, and that adds up. I think we need to invite all 31 district leaders to the castle to reinforce that there’s nothing wrong here.”

I stared at him. “How am I supposed to respond to that?”

“I want your thoughts.”

“No you don’t,” I practically scoffed. “You do what you want; you always have. You just wanted to give me enough forewarning of what you expect from me when you throw this party.”

“Which is?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“To say nothing and do nothing when everyone gets here.”

“Which should be easy for you.”

He stood and took several steps forward so he loomed over me. He was already a few inches taller, but standing on the platform made me have to tilt my chin to resentfully look up at him.

“In all seriousness,” he said. “While I’ve been able to convince district leaders of whatever story I tell them regarding your absence when I host them here for meetings or the occasional dinner, this is different. You have to be there, and unlike when I trot you out for official business functions, I won’t be able to watch you every second. So you need to dust off your acting skills and poker face. Because if you try anything, I don’t care about the consequences. I’ll figure out how to spin the truth after you’re dead.”

His eyes inadvertently glowed black. Or perhaps it was very advertent. I didn’t look away. I was used to that too.

“You forget, Tim. I died a long time ago.”

He smirked again. “You’ve been spending too much time with Fright. I’d get you a less snarky friend to keep you company if I could.”

“Let me know when you are holding interviews,” I replied dryly.

We continued the stare down for another moment before my gaze inevitably couldn’t stand up to his any longer. “If that’s all, I’ll be going back to my tower. I have a full afternoon of melancholy and regret planned.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” Tim said.

He hopped down from the platform and gestured for a couple of goon-guards to come forward. “But I’ll be summoning you more often over the next few weeks to help with party planning, so be ready.”

I raised my brow. “You actually want my opinion?”

“No. Not if I can help it. In this case, though, I think if we’re trying to convey a nothing-odd-to-see-here vibe for our visitors, having you handle the inconsequential decisions about decorations, food, and so on, would be the smart move.”

“Fine,” I said as the goon-guards stepped closer. I scarcely looked at them at first; then I did a double take at the taller one. Despite the decay on parts of his face, I would always recognize it. The emptiness in it, though, could not have been more different to the man I once knew.

Bennet.

Some things you never quite got used to. A person you cared about looking at you like you were less than a stranger was at the top of that list.

“How about some familiar company instead,” Tim said wickedly. “Bennet here can walk you back to your room. I don’t know how good the conversation will be though.”

Instinctively, my fingertips lit with fire. Actual fire. They hadn’t for a while. And there was a clear reason. The instant they did, Tim grabbed one of my hands, jerking me closer to him. He held my arm at a crooked, break-your-wrist angle. His face was a foot from mine.

“Don’t,” he said flatly.

I didn’t need to command my fire to go out. It did on its own.

Tim smiled and dropped my hand. Bennet and the other guard didn’t react to the exchange. Their humanity had long been suppressed. Their souls were wrapped tighter than butterflies entombed in a thousand layers of spiderweb.

I turned to leave and took three steps before Tim’s voice stopped me.

“Eve.”

I turned.

“You forgot something.” He jutted his chin toward the throne.

I grunted. “Really? Even now?”

“Unless you want me to get Kristi.”

I gulped. Then, feeling more humiliated than a cat wearing a costume, I picked up the hem of my dress and curtseyed to him. I’d barely risen when he had closed the distance between us again.

“There. Was that so hard?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said bitterly. “Every time.”

Tim’s gaze penetrated mine. He was too close. I could sass and snark when I was calm. But my nerve around Tim had a limit, and that dwindled faster when he was nearer, like ice cream melting the closer it got to a roaring flame. I could not sustain strength for long when he bore down on me intensely. His past had done too much damage to mine.

“Does this extra meeting mean we don’t have to have our mandatory Wednesday dinner tomorrow?” I asked guardedly.

“Why would it?” He with cold amusement. “It’s important for a husband and wife to spend time together.”

“Delightful tragedies,” my father said as we walked along the Crisp Path, the humongous road covered in fallen leaves leading to our castle.

Matching the name, the autumn leaves made a crunching sound beneath our feet as we strolled. They were all magic leaves, not having fallen from any particular tree. And they coated the road end to end like nature’s driest puzzle pieces—each one “reinflating” after being stepped on, returning to its pre-crunched state.

“That’s a funny thing to call them,” I replied as I tried to keep up. I was zigging and zagging across the path, planting my feet on the largest leaves like a loud game of hopscotch.

“But fitting,” my father said. “These leaves may be dead on the ground, but trees could not renew and thrive again if not for the part of their cycle that required falling. Always remember, Eve, death and life mean nothing without each other. It is a balance of humility and hope. Darkness and light aren’t combatants; they’re counterbalances. To ignore one is to never truly see the value in the other.”

My golden ballet flat landed on a particularly large leaf with a satisfying crunch, and I looked up at my father. He was much larger than me in size, but also larger than life in my eyes because of how I admired him.

His dark gold clothes stood out against the brown leaves, but not in a flashy way. And his outfit matched the gold wire woven around the black crown sitting on top of his shoulder-length hair. That was the color of chestnut, much like his mustache and beard.

“Those are some deep thoughts for a walk to the village for cinnamon buns, Dad.” I grinned. “But I like it. I’m writing it down in my notebook.”

I pulled a small leather journal from my pocket and scribbled down the words my father had said to the best of my memory. I’d just finished adding an exclamation point to my dad’s quote when I heard a fresh chorus of crunching leaves and I looked up.

“Mom!” I called. “Are you coming to get cinnamon buns too?”

My mother had just come out of the castle gate. It was easily three times my father’s height, and he could reach the tallest of shelves. It and the fence it connected with that circled our castle were made of this dark twisted metal that looked like vines. I was glad that my parents left the gate open most of the time. It was pretty intimidating as is. If it was closed, I imagined it would give off the vibe of a prison.

Our castle was already mysterious and borderline-scary enough. Every angle was sharp. The towers had turrets with crusty-blood-red tiles, while black and orange opals framed the windows.

Most of the place’s powerful energy came from the material it was made of though. The whole thing was basically black quartz. My mom and dad told me it was the only building in the entire kingdom made of the stuff. Our great, great, extra-great ancestors had built this castle over a black quartz mine, so the dark and somewhat sparkly rock probably ran deep beneath our home too.

So, basically, there was a ton of shadowy edginess to our castle.

My favorite part of it all had to be the outside decorations that sat on top of fifteen-foot columns shooting up along the fence line. Each one held up a jack-o’-lantern—flames forever lit, faces carved to display friendly and excited expressions. It made me happy to see them. To an eight-year-old, their glowing grins were more representative of October than anything else.

I turned from their enchanting smiles to the one on my mom’s face.

There were plenty of worlds out there, but I doubted any of them had a woman more fantastic.

Her wavy amber hair was almost always woven into a thick braid on one side with brightly hued fall leaves tucked in. The gold and black crown on her head, meanwhile, was the same material as my dad’s, but hers was more tiara style—thinner with a bunch of crystals.

All this glimmer and glamour was not what made my mother stand out though. Her most impressive qualities were her elegance and strength. She was peace and fury, water and stone, the shine of the sun and the cloak of night all at the same time. In other words, she was everything a ruler of any kingdom needed to be: a master of balance.

You could see that in her as clearly as a reflection in a clean window. Her natural expression was unyielding, yet kind—firm as a gargoyle but as approachable as a doggie in a rain jacket.

I thought that was interesting and kind of sad. For me anyway. She and I technically looked a lot alike. We shared the same brown eyes, nose, and general face shape. But in my short life I’d never once seen my features take on the same commanding presence hers did.

“We will go for treats after,” my mom said. “We actually have a surprise for you, Eve.”

I frowned. “Mom, I don’t like surprises. They stress me out.”

“We know, Eve,” she replied. “And we never want to stress you out, but we celebrated your eighth birthday a few weeks ago, and your father and I have decided the time has come for you to learn more about our jobs. After all, one day you’ll have this same job with your partner, so starting the journey from an early age is important.”

I tapped my journal with the pencil. “Mom, I’m already on it. You gave me this journal for my birthday to write notes about leadership, and I’ve already filled up six pages with ruler wisdom.”

“Not that part of our jobs, Spice,” my dad said, using my nickname as he bopped my nose affectionately. “Your mother means we want to start introducing you to the parts you’re not so excited about.”

I lowered my notebook and finally noticed the familiar ox-blood-brown bag hanging from my mom’s shoulder. It was too big and bulky to hold anything other than the two lanterns that my parents devoted so much of their lives to. Their Ghost Lanterns.

“Oh,” I said.

A horse whinnied in the distance and I turned and squinted. A troop of soldiers was at the far end of the walk preparing carriages where the Crisp Path split. The road on the right led to the closest village. The road straight ahead was a shortcut to the railway station. And the road on the left delved into the woods . . . where portals to the Ghost Dimension appeared.

I gulped, feeling my gut tighten. “You know, when your day goes from plans for frosting to plans for haunting, it can really make your stomach hurt.”

“I’m sorry about that, Eve,” my mom said, tucking my single streak of naturally green hair behind my ear. “But you have the same magic inside of you that we do. Sooner or later, you have to begin learning to use it. No one with a gift is meant to let it stay at starter level forever. Your father and I go on these missions every week. And during the tenth month of the year, we go several times a week because spirit energy is much higher when it’s October in other worlds as well. You won’t have to worry about that for many years, but now that you’re eight we want you to join us for one Ghost Hunt every three months as a means to get your feet wet.”

I fidgeted awkwardly. “But . . . I’m scared.”

My mom nodded. “And you probably will be scared for a while. But the two of us and the guards will keep you safe, and you need to start understanding what you’re up against. We all have to get used to the monsters at some point. They’re not going anywhere, and running and hiding will only delay the inevitable. Be brave, look them in the eye, and make them afraid of you.”

Most people’s monsters aren’t so literal.

I cringed. “Should I write that down?”

“Later,” my father said. He checked his gold pocket watch, which had a bunch of moving, glowing circles with various hands on it. He kept it attached to his belt with a small chain. My mom had a similar magic timepiece hanging from the long necklace she always wore.

“Our portal opens only a mile from here today. We can’t be late,” he said.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want to keep the dead waiting,” I mumbled.

With a sigh, I put away my pencil and journal. My heart was pounding fast and we hadn’t even taken off on this terrible adventure yet. What did that say about my ability to handle this?

My mom once told me that her parents took her on her first Ghost Hunt when she was six years old. She was clearly far more fearless than I was though. If only I could borrow some of her bravery and throw in some of my dad’s bold spunk.

I wasn’t great like they were. I was just me—small, shy, and nowhere near as terrific. How was I going to do this and not freak out or let them down?

I’d always known this day would come eventually. The problem with “eventually” was that it had a bad habit of warping into “now” when you least wanted it to.

Thankfully, when I looked up from the leaves just then, I found my parents’ outstretched hands. I grabbed each of them with some relief and we walked down the path to the guards together.

They were my human security blankets.

“Queen Statera. King Tobias,” one of the guards said. They all bowed to my parents, their armor the darkest shade of forest green.

“Princess.” They bowed to me next, though it seemed unnecessary. I was four feet tall and wearing a fluffy sweater with a sparkly ghost on the pocket. There was a smudge of chocolate on my sleeve from breakfast. And my shoes were edged with mud from playing hide-and-seek with my friends earlier. In other words, the respect these twelve adults were giving me didn’t match my whole vibe. These were a selection of my parents’ fiercest, most trusted fighters. The horses they’d brought deserved more awe than I did.

Well, shock and awe.

I tried not to look some of the horses in their nightmare faces. There were lots of species unique to October, but the Cadaver Clydesdales were way more intimidating than most. These things were exactly what you’d imagine based on the name—giant, living horse skeletons. No skin or muscles or organs, they were made of magically connected bones and nothing else. They didn’t even have eyes, just vacant sockets. So I was never sure if they were looking at me, even now as one whinnied and pointed its head in my direction.

Another gulp and I darted away. One of the guards held a carriage door open and I scurried inside.

I thanked the guard. He already had the visor of his helmet lowered, so the only part of his face I could see was his eyes. This guard had light blue ones. They stood out against the gray day. Most of the year October had silver skies like Earl Gray ice cream, some clouds teasing storms, and a chill that meant you always needed long sleeves.

My mom and dad sat on either side of me. They knew I preferred it that way. They were more than security blankets in that sense. I liked having them around me like shields.

I fidgeted some more as we waited to get going. I knew I was about to level up on the “growing up” scale. Once I started on this path, there would be no going back. I would be different.

To a symphony of crunching leaves, the carriages moved down the left road. After a minute, the rustling stopped as we drove off the Crisp Path and delved into the woods.

More than a third of our kingdom was covered in forest, but every couple miles the type of forest changed. There were tons of unique trees and plants and special weirdness lurking out there, as a result, but pretty much all parts of the woods were uninhabited because of portal activity.

I tried not to think about that, and what lay ahead, and focused on my dad’s pocket watch as he checked it again.

“If I’m going on these trips now, how soon ’til I get one of those?” I asked.

“Sorry, Spice, but these are the only two Hole Trackers that exist in October,” my dad replied. “Centuries ago, beings of great power gifted a pair to the rulers of each kingdom in the Calendar Realm.”

He offered the watch to me and I held its weighty power in my small hand. “I know that part, Dad. You told me stories about the Dark Rabbits when I was little. But you and Mom know everything about everything, and our ancestors were super cool I’m sure too. You’re telling me no one centuries ago thought to write down who these rabbits were or where they came from? There’s no ancient text or map that gives us directions so we can find them and ask for extra Hole Trackers? I mean, what happens if one breaks?”

My mom and dad exchanged an amused look.

“Eve, these magic timepieces have been passed down for generations,” my mom replied. “Rulers of our kingdom have never so much as scratched them. I wouldn’t worry about breaking one.”

“As for the Dark Rabbits, Spice,” my dad tagged in. “Some things are best kept unknown. Whatever kind of creatures they were, they had access to immense magic. Not knowing their secrets saves us complication. We wouldn’t want that kind of power to be in everyone’s hands. Not having answers about how and where to acquire more prevents that from happening. It’s a blessing for multiple realities. Our land affects the month of October in other worlds, after all. So if something goes wrong in a big way here, it could alter the lives of people who don’t even live in our universe.”

My dad gestured for the watch and I passed it back.

“I know you’ve only just started learning about other dimensions in your lessons, Eve,” my mom continued, her tone turning serious. “But as our heir, you must always remember that the Calendar Realm is not like other realms. Some spaces in time are neighbors; some are influencers. We are the latter. What happens here affects other places in terms of seasonality, tradition, and most importantly, attitude. Especially the Calendar Realm’s closet shared neighbor . . .” She looked at me pointedly.

“Earth!” I shot up my hand eagerly. “See, I pay attention.”

We hit a bump in the road and I quickly glanced out the window at the dark woods—miles and miles of uninhabited wonder, a secret for every leaf.

“I just block out the scarier lessons sometimes,” I admitted, a bit embarrassed.

My mom gave me a sympathetic pat on the hand.

“That’s not an option today, I’m afraid. But while the place where we’re headed can be troubling, I would encourage you not to think of the activity itself as scary. Stopping evil is a beautiful thing, and spreading light is a privilege. We need to monitor the Ghost Zone from the outside and intervene on the inside. If malevolent spirits get through and invade our world . . .” She raised her eyebrows, prompting me again.

I gulped, feeling the pressure.

“Then our people would be in danger of being possessed, the possessed would terrorize our kingdom, and fear and dark energy would spread through this land while affecting others—like Earth—when they celebrate October. Which would make them turn darker too.”

“Meaning darker thoughts, darker actions, and darker morals,” my mom emphasized. “None of us in October know exactly how anything we do here translates there, but we have to be particularly careful because, unlike other Calendar Realm kingdoms, October has the potential to host as much darkness as it does light. Our traditions and species have a unique history of wonder and horror. We adore sweets and costume parties, but we also come from origins of monsters and death. We love pumpkins and autumnal activities, but we are constantly tormented by the threat of evil spirits. All to say it is a balancing act to keep October in check, and to keep the less savory attributes of our essence from bringing down our world, or any other.”

“Do you think it would ever be possible to go to Earth and find out exactly how our stuff has affected their stuff?” I asked.

“Most ventures are possible; it may not always be wise to make them probable,” my dad replied.

I frowned. “What?”

He smiled softly. “No one in October has ever visited Earth, Eve. And you shouldn’t worry about trying to. We want you to learn about your future responsibilities in small, careful doses, and not take on more weight that you can carry.”

“It is really so weird to believe that traveling to another realm is weight I could carry someday? Royals from other kingdoms go to Earth all the time. Why couldn’t we? Why not me? From the stories my friend Holly in December has told me, it sounds neat.”

My dad bopped my nose again. “I love your enthusiasm, Spice. But why don’t you focus on some smaller goals for now. Let your mother and I handle the big parts of this world. Answers can build character or destroy innocence; you don’t always know which will be the outcome when you ask the question.

I blinked, confused. “Um, maybe I should write that down too?”

“This isn’t the time for notetaking, Eve,” my mom said, putting her hand over mine as it reached for my journal.

I paused. In the window behind her the forest had grown thicker and the light was dimming. It cast a spectral veil over my mom’s face that made her porcelain skin look like marble.

“I want you to pay attention to what’s happening here and now,” she continued. “The Ghost Zone is not a place to let your focus wander.”

I swallowed nervously. “But you’re sure I’ll be safe?”

“Safety is never a sure thing, Eve, but as I said there will always be guards nearby and your father and I will protect you no matter what. Since we have equal powers, he and I will take turns leading these expeditions. Today, when we cross over to the Ghost Zone, stay behind me while he leads. Next time, you’ll stay behind your father while I lead. In that sense, you’ll also get a true demonstration of how you will share power and responsibility with your own partner one day.”

I frowned like when I realized the castle chefs were trying to trick me into eating more vegetables by sneaking them into my favorite potpies.

“Ew, could we not talk about that,” I said.

“Oh, come now,” my dad said. “I promise you, Spice. Husbands aren’t so bad. Right, Statera?” He winked at my mom.

She smiled at him, eyes full of love.

“They’re not bad, Dad,” I corrected, feeling embarrassed. “They’re just . . . I’m eight, so they’re also scary.”

The way both my parents looked at me—like my immatureness was adorable—made me sink into my seat. Still, I stood by what I said. I’d rather have a staring match with a Cadaver Clydesdale than have this conversation with my mom and dad. I wasn’t even comfortable with the idea of my own power yet. The idea of one day trusting someone enough to share my power, go into battle, and face monsters with them forever . . . It was a subject that just made me itch right now.

Hopefully I would feel differently about it when I got older.

Hopefully I would feel differently about a lot of things when I got older. Especially myself.

I wasn’t complete yet. Like a pumpkin that’d only had its top carved off, there was a lot of digging and shaping to do before I was ready for the world.

Thinking on that, there was one thing about this trek I was looking forward to—seeing the way my parents handled themselves. They were power, they were strength, they were control. As freaked out as I was about what I’d run into on this mission, I wondered if being around my mom and dad when they shined their brightest would rub off on me.

Maybe watching them in action would teach me how to dig the pulp out of myself and find my core. Monkey see, monkey do, right?

Also . . . maybe seeing them work together would eventually make me open to talking about grown-up things like permanent partners.

If I knew one thing about my parents’ relationship, it was that they brought out the best in each other. In crazy, scary times like we were about to face, the chance for a true partnership like that to sparkle was at its strongest. And, as my parents often told me, when you had your partner by your side you were at your strongest. So I guess that meant for me to be my strongest I needed a partner?

“Whoa there . . .” a guard called ahead.

The Cadaver Clydesdales whinnied and our carriage came to a stop. My father opened the door and hopped out then offered my mom his hand. She accepted, the back of her dress dragging as she exited. It wasn’t a gown, or anything bulky that would get in the way of battle mode. Her mustard-colored dress, like all her fighting outfits, was cut above the knee in front and then flowed down to calf length behind her. Elegant and actiony.

Once she’d gotten out and I stood at the edge of the carriage, my father—far stronger than his jolly demeanor and round belly suggested—gently picked me up under the armpits and set me down on the ground.

I glanced around. There were tons of crows dotting the branches. Their stillness was a little unsettling, but their presence wasn’t. While some worlds enjoyed the sound of blue birds or put out food for finches, in October we loved crows and they were everywhere.

I was glad to at least have one familiar thing nearby. With woods covering so much of our kingdom, it was easy to be surprised when you explored. We had areas that looked normal and plenty that were strange or supernatural. This section we’d stopped in was the latter. The trees were sort of crooked, and charcoal feathers covered the entire floor as far as I could see, like some giants had a pillow fight here last night.

“We need to continue on foot through the trees, Majesties,” one of the guards told my parents. “Based on the coordinates you gave us, the location is thirty meters southwest from here and it’s too tight for the carriages to continue. I wouldn’t recommend the horses either.”

My mother nodded and opened the ox-blood-brown bag she’d been carrying. She took out the two small iron lanterns. There was no light inside them, but that would change soon. She attached one to her belt then handed the other to my father, who did the same.

“On your lead, Tobias,” she said.

The guards on horseback dismounted. A couple of them stayed behind with the carriages while the rest marched ahead following my dad. I held my mom’s hand as we walked.

“Now, Eve,” she said. “It’s important to remember that even though you don’t seem like a threat, the spirits in the Ghost Zone may focus on you. Ghosts can go after anyone, but they are drawn to power. The more magic someone has, the more intoxicating the target and the blinder these monsters become in pursuit of it, blocking out all others in the area. The guards have magic energy in their uniforms, so they tempt the monsters too, but you, me, and your father are different. So don’t run off, because they will hunt you down even if you hide. Which is why you need to stay close.”

We arrived at a small clearing where the rest of our group had stopped. My dad checked his pocket watch and gestured for some soldiers to step back. A minute passed then he counted down with his fingers and commanding voice.

“Five, four, three, two . . .”

Right before my eyes a spark like space-time was winking at us appeared across from my dad. It swirled outward, expanding into a glittering black hole, big as a fireplace.

Then things got really intense.

A blue-gray ghost twice my dad’s size crawled out instantly. Partially see-through, its once-human face was droopy like a chunk of clay left out in hot weather. Its torso was partially covered by torn fabric and skin, so I could see mismatched ribs. And its extra-long arms dragged low to the ground to support its non-human bottom half, which featured no legs just a tree-trunk-thick tail.

Nope!

I instinctively jolted back, but my mom held my hand tight.

My dad raised his glowing hands and a golden tidal wave of energy rose above him. He slammed his hands down and that wave crashed into the ghost creature, knocking it back through the portal.

My dad signaled for the first group of soldiers. They began jumping through the portal. He followed and another wave of our troop went after. At that, my mom ran fearlessly toward the portal, pulling fearful me along. We leapt through. Everything turned black and I felt wind rushing against my face. Stars dotted my periphery and I felt like I was falling.

I was glad for the secure warmth of my mom’s hand, otherwise I’d have been terrified of being lost in the abyss. This was my first time crossing into the Ghost Zone.

Suddenly I could see again just as my shoulder rammed the stone of a waterless well.

I’d learned from my baby ruler lessons that all Ghost Zone portals deposited you into wells, so I’d been ready for that. But being here—really feeling the cold clamminess at the bottom of one—was super different to imagining it. And what happened next was definitely way more jolting than what I’d thought up in my head.

My parents had told me how they got out of the wells on their Ghost Hunts, but when a surge of pumpkin vines shot down, coiled around my arms, and yanked me to the surface, it was a lot.

I lost hold of my mom in the process, as two separate vine blasts came down for us. It was more of a heave out of the well, instead of a steady pick me up and set me back down situation after that. The vines released my arms when I’d risen over the brim and they launched me forward at the same time as my mom’s vines released her. She landed in a perfect crouch on the marshy ground despite the heel of her boots. I sort of went splat.

The pumpkin vines rushed away and changed back to their regular forms—the guards.

That magic ability to transform didn’t come from them; it was the special dark green armor designed for October warriors. It allowed each guard to change into a huge surge of pumpkin vines at will, enough of them at once to bury a couch.

My mouth hung open as I watched the enchanted armor work. Every time guards activated the power, their eyes glowed green as their bodies filled with magical chlorophyll. Then flesh and metal melded and melted into a thick attack of vines that darted in different directions to battle threats with huge, green punches and body slams.

There were plenty of threats to pick from, as there were evil ghosts all over, and all of them could hurt us.

While spirits like these were normally intangible to people outside the Ghost Zone, once you were in here you could touch them and they could touch you. Meaning they could tear you to shreds.

Also, once you entered the Ghost Zone your biology changed. It wouldn’t matter where I encountered a ghost for the rest of time. Now that I’d been exposed to the energy of their world, ghosts became tangible to me and I to them anywhere and everywhere, which was really⁠—

“Eep!”

A blue-gray ghost with claws almost as long as its arms lunged at me. I drew back. A soldier ten feet away spilled into pumpkin vines. All three dozen or so of his tendrils latched onto the aggressive ghost when it was barely a yard from my face. The vines yanked the ghost back, then smashed it against the ground.

My mom rushed in, stepping in front of me. She brought both hands to her side, one hovering over the other like she was holding an oversized melon. Her hands glowed and the empty space between them filled with a spinning ball of golden, flaming energy. She flung it forward then punched the air with an uppercut a split second later. The ball of light mimicked her moves—swooping out then uppercut-punching a ghost against one of the giant trees in the swamp where we’d landed.

It tried to race our way again, zigging to the side, but my mom formed another flaming ball of awesome and shot it at the creature. The powerful punch smacked the ghost in the gut and sent it hurling back through the trees.

“Eve, come on!” she called, bolting after it.

I followed her deeper into the eerie terrain, which was lit mainly by navy light with shades of wilting-rose red.

My ballet flats squished speedily over the soft ground. Glancing to my right, through openings in the dark trees I got quick glimpses of this place’s infamous river, which inspired the Ghost Zone’s other name: the Bayou of the Dead.

I’d heard so much about this river, which warped evil spirits into the mutant mashups my parents and guards were fighting. But today was not the day I would see it up close since our portal-well had opened more inland.

“Eve, hurry!” my mom called, worried but not waiting.

It was hard to keep up with her and not trip. There were too many distracting things in this blur of trees and glowing plants. Pumpkin vines and blue-gray specters fought around us. Shadows seemed to close in like my anxieties.

My mom caught up with the ghost she’d attacked before and tore into it. The monster became more translucent with each magical blow. On her third hit, it began flickering white.

I’d never watched this in person before, but I knew what that meant. Now it was weak enough and my mom was close enough to finish the job. The lantern at her hip automatically glowed in reflex. The monster did too. Then the device sucked the spirit inside. Wispy light filled the glass lantern, dashing around inside like a firefly with anger management issues. The spirit was trapped.

I was stunned. It was the first time I’d ever seen what put the “ghost” in Ghost Lantern.

“Eve!” My mom dashed over to me.

This was also the first moment I’d really looked at her since entering the Ghost Zone. Seeing her up close like this was bizarre. Something else I knew from my baby ruler lessons was that people looked different in the Ghost Zone. A glance down at my hands confirmed that my skin, like my mother’s, was now slightly translucent. It wasn’t too dramatic, but still—vaguely seeing my mom’s skeleton beneath her skin was more than enough to fuel nightmares until my next birthday.

“Stay close to me,” she ordered, her eyes charged by a rim of gold from her magic.

I nodded and got behind her, and just in the nick of time. My mom’s fingers glowed so hot that flames appeared at the tips, which she rapidly stabbed into a ghost that’d appeared around a weeping willow and tried to tackle her. Its force barely knocked her back a few inches. She was strong, and she was good at this.

My mom’s fiery fingers punctured the threat’s semi-translucent body and the fire worked its way through the ghost like flaming veins. They spread through the spirit’s entire body in seconds and its blue-gray color flickered until it turned white. The lantern at my mom’s hip detected the specter was ripe, and it sucked that monster in too.

I blinked. My mom and dad had shown me their gifts over the years, but watching your parents produce fire on their fingers and send out tidal waves of light to defeat real-life monsters sure was something.

Both my parents had the same six abilities; they shared them like they shared everything, balancing out and bettering each other. They also rotated between these powers easily. The Flame Fingers was one of three abilities that centered around life and light. Just then I got my first view of magic from the darker half of their powers.

Several phantoms got past the guards and reached the edge of the portal-well we’d come out of. Two of the ghosts were close to seven feet tall and the third was short but spiny.

My father appeared a couple dozen feet behind them. His ordinarily warm eyes turned black and gloves of dark energy formed over his hands. He thrust them forward and began pulling back on the air again and again like he was playing tug of war with an invisible rope. You had to look at the ghosts to see what he was really doing.

When my dad’s dark gloves appeared, glimmery black energy outlined the ghosts’ shadows. As my father heaved back, the energy took control of the spirits by those shadows and pulled them off their feet. The phantoms were wrenched away from the well. Despite how they struggled, my dad’s shadow-controlling dark power, known as the Death Grip, held firm and he pulled them closer to where he stood.

It was like the ghosts’ shadows were physical extensions of the monsters and my dad had the strongest hold imaginable, showing no mercy.

My mom tagged in at that. Her hands also glowed with black energy, but she utilized a different death and darkness power—Shadow Boxing. That magic allowed you to rip the shadows from inanimate objects and use them like physical attacks.

She chose some nearby trees. The stolen shadows turned solid under her magic control and she used them to beat down the ghosts my dad had captured until they weakened enough to absorb into his lantern.

Once they’d been captured, he looked up at me from across the marsh and grinned.

“See, this place isn’t so bad, Spice!” Then his eyes went from black to gold as he launched another tidal wave of energy.

My mom got back to work too. As both of them fought, I did agree with my dad. This was not so “bad”. But it was crazy, terrifying, humbling, and overwhelming. All I could do was stay close to my mom as I tried to stay out of her way, the guards’ way, and obviously the ghosts’ way.

I even had to watch out for skeletal bystanders. Other than ghosts, the Bayou of the Dead had some magical creatures like Cadaver Clydesdales—fully functioning animals made only of bone. During the battle I counted four skeletons dashing away from the fight: two goats, a hog, and a squirrel.

Eventually, my mother checked the Hole Tracker hanging from her neck. “Portal closing in one minute!” she called. “C Group, then Eve and me, B Group, the king, then A Group.”

“Heard!” the soldiers affirmed, shouting from across the area.

My parents blasted and defeated a few more ghosts. Another skeletal squirrel ran in front of my shoes. Then my dad shouted the thirty-second warning. My mom grabbed my hand and we bolted toward the portal-well, a group of soldiers already going through ahead of us. When the last in that crew had dived in, she scooped me up so I could swing my legs over the rim.

“Jump,” she said.

I looked down at the well. It wasn’t just empty; it was full of black nothingness. It had only seemed to be about twelve feet deep when I was down there before. Why couldn’t I see the bottom now?

“Mom—”

“It’ll be okay, Eve. Take the leap.”