I grew up knowing one truth before anything else—

ghosts exist.

They were not bedtime stories or warnings told to scare children. They were real, living remnants of something humanity once tried to control and failed. Not all ghosts were strong. Most of them were weak, wandering spirits that barely affected the living world. But some… some were powerful enough to change history.

There were seven of them.

The Seven Legendary Ghosts ruled the ghost realm like silent gods. No crown. No throne. Only fear, respect, and power that bent reality itself. And yet, even they were not evil. No ghost was born evil. A ghost became what the human controlling it desired.

That was the rule of this world.

Humans could tame ghosts and draw power from them. Once tamed, a ghost would remain loyal to its tamer until the end—bound not by chains, but by will. If the tamer wished to protect, the ghost became a shield. If the tamer wished to destroy it, the ghost became a weapon.

That was why not everyone could tame a ghost.

You needed a goal.

A will strong enough to be heard by something that existed between life and death.

People like me were told that if your heart wavered, the ghost would never answer.

Over time, ghosts stopped being mysteries. They became tools. Weapons. National assets. Some countries used ghost tamers to protect their borders. Others used them to threaten enemies without ever declaring war.

And so the world split itself into shadows.

There were people who hunted ghosts, believing they were dangers that should be erased.

There were people who protected ghosts, believing they were victims of human greed.

And then there were the neutral tamers—the ones who chose balance, trying to keep peace between both sides.

None of these groups fought openly.

Institutions existed that claimed to study ghosts and train those who could control them. They were public, respected, and carefully watched.

The real conflicts happened elsewhere.

In places most people never found, battles were settled quietly. Ghosts were traded, sealed, or destroyed far from the public eye. No announcements. No witnesses. Just power moving in silence.

No public wars.

No heroes.

Only the dark choosing its winners.

There was one more truth the world never wrote down.

A human does not always need to tame a ghost.

Sometimes, at the edge of death, a wish can be made.

A wish is not a command. It is a request. And only if the ghost wishes to grant it does a pact form—one bound not by force, but by choice. These pacts are rare. Feared. Almost myth.

I know this because the ghost beside me was never mine to summon.

It belonged to my mother.

She made her wish when death was already reaching for her. She did not ask for power. She did not ask for revenge. She asked for only one thing—that I would be protected.

The ghost listened.

The moment I was born, the pact passed to me. Not as ownership, but as loyalty. From the first second I breathed, a ghost stood beside me. I did not tame it. I inherited its promise.

As I grew older, the ghost stayed—not because it had to, but because it chose to. It saw everything I went through and protected me for who I was, not for my mother or her wish. Somewhere along the way, the bond between us changed. It stopped feeling like a pact and started feeling like friendship.

A child who tamed a ghost at birth should not exist.

Most people don’t know this. To them, I am just another human living between hunters, protectors, and silence. They don’t see the presence that has stood beside me longer than any living soul.

But ghosts do.

They recognize the mark of an old bond.

UTA's POV

Whenever I tried to sleep that dream repeats itself, although it is like a nightmare it was somewhat strangely comforting, it was about how I am here what happened 13 years ago.

_______________________________

13 YEARS AGO,

Now, my life should have ended before it truly began.

The world welcomed me with noise.

Metal clanged somewhere outside the room. Voices overlapped—angry, hurried, afraid. Rain beat against the windows like it was trying to get in. The air smelled of iron and medicine.

Then there was me.

Crying.

Loud and broken, like I already knew I had arrived too late.

My mother didn’t hear it for long.

Her breath faded almost as soon as mine filled the room. Fingers that had curled around my sleeve loosened. Warmth drained away, leaving behind a cold that settled deep into my bones.

They said childbirth took her life.

That was the truth everyone accepted.

But as I cried, the shadows in the room shifted. Not cast by light—by something else. A presence pressed close, heavy and watchful, answering a wish whispered with her last breath.

Protect her.and one other thing she left me was her dog,Ash,who was my mother's companion for a long time but even then,

I was born into grief.

And guarded from the very first second.

I faced a problem a child my age shouldn't have had,My father realized the truth soon after—that I carried a ghost. Not one I chose. One left behind for me. Power bound by love, not ambition.

He didn’t see a daughter.

He saw inheritance.

The ghost protecting me was strong. Strong enough to tear the house apart. But I was only a baby, my body too weak to hold its full strength. The seal held—for my sake—but it couldn’t stop everything.

When my father tried to take what wasn’t his, pain followed.

I don’t remember his voice.

I remember the burning ache in my chest. The sound of something cracking. The way my cry suddenly went silent.

Ash ran.

Rain hammered the ground, soaking his fur, blurring his vision—but he didn’t slow. His teeth were clenched around my clothes, grip gentle despite the way his chest heaved. Behind us, the night was alive with sound.

“After them!”

“Don’t let the child escape!”

Footsteps. Too many. Too close.

Ash turned sharply, claws skidding against wet stone. Pain exploded through him a second later. A sickening crack echoed as his leg gave out. He stumbled, almost fell—but he didn’t drop me.

Not even then.

A cry tore from his throat, raw and broken, but still he moved. Dragging himself forward. Leaving blood in the rain.

I didn’t understand words yet.

But I understood fear.

And I understood resolve.

They were gaining on us when the air changed.

The pressure shifted, heavy and sharp, like the world itself had inhaled. Ash skidded to a halt—not from pain, but instinct. Someone stood ahead of us, rain parting around him as if it didn’t dare touch him.

A man.

Raven-black hair clung to his face, emerald-green eyes glowing faintly in the dark. His gaze dropped to me—and froze.

Those eyes widened just a fraction.

“…So it’s true,” he murmured.

He knelt, carefully, slowly. When his eyes met mine, something passed through them—recognition. Grief. Rage held tightly in check.

“You have her eyes,” he said quietly. “Just like your mother.”

Ash collapsed then, strength finally giving out. Blood soaked his fur.

The man’s expression darkened.

Someone shouted behind us. “Give us the child!”

The man rose.

“No,” he said simply.

They laughed. “You think you can—”

They never finished the sentence.

I don’t remember everything that followed. Only flashes. Light cutting through rain. The sound of walls cracking. Screams swallowed by thunder.

The man moved like the storm itself,

By the time the house behind us began to burn, no one stood in his way.

Flames climbed the walls of the residence—my residence—devouring years of lies and blood. The fire reflected in the man’s eyes as my father stumbled forward, fury twisted into desperation.

“She’s mine!” my father shouted. “That power belongs to my blood—give her to me!”

The man turned slowly.

“She is not yours,” he said.

A curse slipped from his lips, low and ancient. The air shuddered.

My father never finished his next breath.

Silence followed—broken only by fire.

My brother stood at the edge of it all, eyes burning brighter than the flames. He stared at me—not with fear.

With hatred.

“This isn’t over,” he said hoarsely, backing away. “That power is mine. The ghost is mine. I’ll take it back.”

Then he ran.

The man didn’t chase him.

Instead, he knelt beside Ash, hands steady despite the blood. His jaw tightened.

“You did well,” he murmured to the dog. “You protected her.”

Then he looked at me again.

Rain slid down his face. His voice softened.

“I know you can’t understand me yet,” he said, reaching out carefully, “but listen anyway.”

His hand hovered, respectful.

“I was on my way to protect you before you were even born,” he whispered. “And now that I’ve found you…”

He finally touched my forehead, warm and certain.

“I’ll protect you,” he promised. “No matter what you become.”

He hesitated, as if names carried weight.

Then he spoke softly, close enough that even a child could feel the sound.

“My name is Caelum.”

Rain slid down his fingers as he brushed them against my cheek, careful, like I might disappear if he touched me too firmly.

“I was your mother’s ally,” he continued, voice low. “Her friend. She trusted me.”

His eyes flicked briefly to the burning house behind us, then back to me.

“So from now on,” he said, steadier now, “you’re not alone.”

Ash stirred weakly at his feet. Caelum glanced down, then back at me, and something like resolve settled into his expression.

“You don’t have to understand my words,” he murmured. “Just remember this.”

His thumb rested lightly against my forehead.

“I am here. And I will stay.”

Caelum leaned closer.

For a moment, I felt his breath—steady, grounding. Then something warm brushed my forehead. Light. Careful.

A kiss.

Not rushed. Not desperate. Just a promise sealed without words.

“Sleep,” he murmured softly. “You’re safe now.”

I didn’t know what safety was.

But I knew him.

My fingers curled weakly, catching the edge of his coat. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he straightened, one arm lifting me securely while the other reached down to Ash.

“I’ve got you both,” he said quietly.

And somehow, I believed him.

______________________________

And I woke up, the sun was up shining brightly like always,And I was in my room,in my bed.For a second i thought everything was real, I never knew what happened fully on that night but this dream kept repeating itself whenever I slept, I half forgot what happened that day but I still remember Caelum saying many other words but couldn't remember them clearly and about my father and brother talking in that dark room about me,we didn't know what happened to my brother,and partially because I was scared,I hated to sleep,I rarely slept.

But I always think that the best thing that ever happened to me was having Caelum,Ash and my ghost and partner,veyrath with me.. having them was my blessing without these three, I don't know whether i would have survived that day too...