Chapter 22
Divine Interruption
The silence stretching across Cauldron Falls town square was broken by the soft scraping sound of a broom materializing in Butcher's massive hands.
The zombie caretaker moved with his characteristic orderly care, summoning a matching dustpan as he began sweeping up the scattered remains of what had once been Cornelius Lennox.
The irony wasn't lost on anyone present—a fake author reduced to paper scraps, being swept into the trash like discarded rough drafts.
Butcher worked quietly, his gravelly breathing the only sound as he collected every fragment with the thoroughness of someone who took his cleaning duties very seriously.
"Oh my," Leahnora's voice finally broke the stunned silence. "That was... rather intense."
"What the hell happened to him?" Roam demanded, reeling from witnessing something that defied every law of physics he knew.
"I have no idea," Sean replied grimly, though his Irish accent carried a note of deep concern. "But this looks like serious trouble for me."
Just then, a crack of thunder split the night sky, though not a single cloud was visible among the stars.
The ancient ginkgo tree where the second loophole had first appeared began to glow, and a figure descended from the heavens with the theatrical flair that could only belong to one being in all the supernatural realms.
The Goddess of Death touched down gracefully beneath the golden canopy, her flaming red hair glowing as her bedazzled red wings folded behind her. She wore her signature red leather jumpsuit, and her presence immediately drew every eye in the square.
"Well, well, well," she said, her voice carrying the weight of someone who literally held the power of life and death in her hands. "What do we have here?" Her sharp eyes swept over the crowd of solid ghosts with obvious amusement. "I see a lot of ghosts in rare form this evening."
Murphy O'Reilly immediately tried to duck behind Leahnora's petite frame, though his stocky build made the attempt rather unsuccessful.
The Goddess of Death took in the kegs of Ghost Draught vapor and the general chaos that had erupted in what was supposed to be a peaceful magical town hosting a simple ghost convention.
"Now then," she continued, moving toward the town hall steps with fluid grace. "Let's see what kind of trouble you've all gotten yourselves into."
As she reached the top of the steps, she gestured with one perfectly manicured finger. Butcher's broom froze mid-sweep, and the dustpan lifted toward her, floating at eye level so she could examine its contents.
"Hmm," she mused, peering into the dustpan with focused attention. The paper fragments began to swirl and gather into a compact ball above the container. Her expression grew serious as she examined the magical residue clinging to the scraps.
"Very interesting indeed," she said, her tone shifting to something more ominous. She looked up at the assembled crowd, her eyes flashing with recognition and divine irritation.
"That," she announced, gesturing as the ball of compressed paper dropped into Butcher's waiting trash can with a decisive thunk, "is not mine. Not mine at all."
Lightning struck in the exact center of the town square, illuminating everyone's faces with brilliant white light but harming no one. The thunder that followed seemed to shake the very foundations of reality.
Then, clear as a bell and twice as authoritative, the Goddess's voice rang out from the heavens above:
"I DO BELIEVE THAT IS YOURS. AND YOU HAVE SOME PAPERWORK TO FILE."