Chapter 8: The Hollow Mountain Tavern
Juniper and Jace stood before the entrance to the tavern, hidden deep within the heart of the hollow mountain. The journey had been perilous, filled with ghostly attacks and terrifying visions, but they had made it. Juniper wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, staring up at the ancient wooden door that seemed to creak ominously under its own weight.
"Is this it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jace, still in his ghostly form, nodded, his transparent figure shimmering faintly in the dim light.
"Yeah, this is it. The Grim Reaper’s tavern." He glanced at Juniper with concern.
"Are you sure you’re ready for this?"
Juniper gulped, her eyes narrowing.
"Do I have a choice?"
Jace grinned, a ghostly smile that somehow managed to look both charming and mischievous.
"Not really. But if anyone can handle it, it’s you."
She shot him a look.
"You’re the ghost. Shouldn’t you be the one reassuring me?"
Jace chuckled.
"Hey, I’m trying my best here. New to this whole ghost protector gig, you know?"
Juniper shook her head, amused despite the fear gnawing at her stomach. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, pushing the heavy door open. It groaned loudly on its hinges, and a gust of cold air rushed out to greet them, sending shivers down her spine. The tavern’s interior was dimly lit, the warm glow of flickering candles casting long shadows across the room. It wasn’t what she expected. Instead of a grim and foreboding lair, the place resembled an old, rustic pub. Wooden tables were scattered around, and a bar lined one wall with bottles of strange, glowing liquids on display.
A hooded figure stood behind the bar, polishing a glass with a rag that seemed older than time itself. The figure’s skeletal hands moved with an eerie grace, and its face was completely hidden beneath the hood. Juniper knew immediately who it was.
"That’s him," Jace whispered, floating beside her.
"The Grim Reaper."
Juniper’s pulse quickened. She had never imagined the Grim Reaper would be... bartending.
They cautiously approached the bar, the wooden floorboards creaking under Juniper’s feet. As they reached the counter, the Grim Reaper stopped polishing the glass and turned his hooded head toward them. For a long, uncomfortable moment, there was silence.
Finally, the Grim Reaper spoke, his voice a low, chilling rasp.
"I see you’ve made it."
Juniper swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze—or at least where his gaze would be.
"Yeah... we did."
The Grim Reaper tilted his head slightly.
"The boy... is trapped. Between life and death." His skeletal hand gestured toward Jace, who floated beside Juniper.
"He seeks to return, but it will not be easy."
Jace nodded. "I know. That’s why we came to find you."
The Grim Reaper’s hollow gaze shifted between them, his voice filled with ancient wisdom. "To reclaim your life, you must fulfill the tasks of those who have passed. Only by helping the lost spirits complete their unfinished business will you gain the power to return to your body."
Juniper’s heart sank. She had known this wouldn’t be easy, but hearing it laid out so plainly made the enormity of their task hit home.
"Unfinished business?" she asked, her voice soft. "What kind of business?"
The Grim Reaper reached beneath the bar and pulled out a small, glowing orb, holding it between his skeletal fingers. "Each spirit that remains trapped has something they could not complete in life. Some seek redemption. Others seek revenge. And many... seek peace." His bony hand extended toward Jace. "For each spirit you aid, you will receive an aura orb. These orbs hold the essence of the spirit’s gratitude. Collect enough, and you will have the strength to return to your body."
Jace reached out, his transparent hand hovering above the orb. "And what about the relics you mentioned?"
The Grim Reaper nodded slowly. "Scattered throughout this realm are ancient relics, powerful items that bind the physical and spiritual worlds. These relics are guarded by dark spirits—those who wish to keep the balance of death in their favor." His voice lowered to a menacing whisper. "You must fight these spirits if you wish to obtain the relics."
Juniper felt her chest tighten. Dark spirits? Fighting? This was getting more dangerous by the second.
The Grim Reaper's empty gaze turned to her, as if sensing her unease. "Fear not, mortal. The boy will not face these dangers alone. I will grant him powers beyond the ordinary spirit. He will be able to interact with the physical world... and defend you."
Jace’s eyes widened in surprise. "Wait... I’ll be able to touch things? And... fight?"
The Grim Reaper nodded. "Yes. But know this—these powers come with great responsibility. The more you use them, the more connected you become to the spirit realm. Misuse them, and you risk losing your humanity."
Juniper felt a lump in her throat. "Losing his humanity? What does that mean?"
The Grim Reaper's voice grew colder. "It means he will become like the dark spirits—trapped in this realm forever, unable to return to the world of the living."
Jace clenched his fists, determination burning in his ghostly eyes. "I won’t let that happen."
The Grim Reaper nodded once more, as if satisfied with Jace’s resolve. He raised his bony hand, and a faint glow surrounded Jace. Slowly, Jace’s form began to change. His once-transparent figure solidified, becoming more tangible. Juniper gasped as she saw Jace’s hand—no longer a mere shadow—reach out and touch the bar.
"It worked," Jace whispered, staring at his hand in awe. "I can actually... touch things."
Juniper stared at him, her heart pounding. "You... you can touch me now?"
Jace looked up at her, his expression softening. He reached out slowly, hesitating for a moment before gently placing his hand on hers. Juniper felt the warmth of his touch, and her breath caught in her throat.
"Jace..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.
For a moment, they just stood there, holding hands, their fingers intertwined. It was bittersweet—a reminder of the connection they had once shared in life, now bridged by the strange magic of the spirit realm. But the weight of their situation hung heavy in the air.
The Grim Reaper’s voice broke the moment. "There is little time to waste. The spirits will not wait for you to be ready. You must begin your mission."
Juniper reluctantly pulled her hand away, her heart aching. "What do we need to do first?"
The Grim Reaper gestured toward a shadowy figure in the corner of the tavern, a ghostly woman with sad, hollow eyes. "That is your first spirit. Her name is Eleanora. She died seeking justice for a crime committed against her family. You must help her find peace."
Jace and Juniper exchanged a glance. This was it—their first mission. It was both terrifying and exhilarating.
Jace squared his shoulders, his voice filled with determination. "We’ll help her."
The Grim Reaper nodded. "Remember, each spirit will have its own unique needs. Some may be simple to help, while others will require great sacrifice. But you must succeed if you wish to gather enough aura orbs to return."
Jace took a deep breath, then turned to Juniper. "Ready?"
Juniper gave him a small, brave smile. "As ready as I’ll ever be."
They approached the ghostly woman in the corner, her sad eyes following their movements. As they drew closer, the temperature seemed to drop, and a feeling of deep sorrow filled the air.
Eleanora looked up at them, her voice a soft, haunting whisper. "Can you help me?"
Juniper nodded, her heart heavy with compassion. "We’re going to try."
Jace stepped forward, his hand now solid as he reached out to the spirit. "We’ll help you find justice, Eleanora. You don’t have to stay trapped here."
Eleanora’s eyes filled with tears, her translucent form trembling. "Thank you..."
As they prepared to embark on their first mission, Juniper felt a mix of fear and hope swelling within her. The journey ahead was dangerous, filled with uncertainty. But she and Jace were in this together, and nothing—not even death—could keep them from their goal.
With a final nod from the Grim Reaper, they left the tavern, the weight of their mission pressing down on them.
The real journey had only just begun.