My name was Lucille Einhart, and I was a ghost—one of the most famous, in fact. For centuries, I roamed the earth, repeating the same actions like a broken record. Then one day, I met someone.

  At first, we didn’t get along. He and I had different views about helping people. I believed in giving everything to help someone in need, no matter the cost. He thought that was naive. He believed that if you saved someone, you had to save them completely—to keep protecting the life you saved. “Why feed a homeless person today if they’ll starve tomorrow?” he’d argue, citing the old saying: “Give a man a fish and feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and feed him for life.”

  His name was Rick Evets, and he was the man I fell in love with.

  He had anonymously created a charity that provided housing and jobs for the homeless, employing many of them in the program. He had practical methods but a compassionate heart. One day, during one of our endless debates, he said something that changed everything.

  “Don’t you get it? After all you did to save those people, they let you die!” His voice softened as he added, “You were the one worth saving.”

  I felt something stir in my non-existent heart. For the first time in centuries, my fog lifted. I realized I had been waiting all this time—for him.

  Rick lived in a beautiful, energy-efficient Earthship house. Half-buried in the earth for insulation, its greenhouse windows were made of bulletproof Lexan, layered with argon gas to regulate temperature. He’d inherited a sizeable fortune from his father and grandfather. His father, a geologist, had discovered oil wells across North America, earning a percentage of their value. His grandfather, a renowned architect, had designed mansions for the absurdly wealthy.

  This wealth allowed Rick to pursue his passion: researching the soul. It also funded his charity and his home, built using his grandfather’s unbuilt designs, improved with modern innovations.

  One day, Rick came home later than usual, covered in burns. His left arm had been amputated below the shoulder, destroyed by fire. I was horrified but determined to stay by his side. I convinced him to let me stay in his home to help him recover. From that day on, I haunted him exclusively.

  Despite his injuries, Rick showed a new determination. He buried himself in paperwork, and soon, a new child joined our unorthodox family: Trevor, a boy no older than five, whom Rick had adopted after Trevor’s mother died in an accident.

  Those years were the happiest of my existence. Trevor quickly warmed to me, calling me “Momma Lucille.” I cooked his meals, packed his lunches, and sent him off to school with love. At night, I sat by the fireplace with Rick, his presence comforting as the fire crackled.

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  Thirteen years passed, and Trevor went to college. Rick, believing he had made progress on his thesis, went to a coffee shop to relax. Hours later, he hadn’t returned.

  I felt a sinking dread as I searched for him, finding the coffee shop surrounded by emergency services. His lifeless body lay beneath a tarp.

  It felt like my world ended.

  I screamed so loudly that every glass pane in the surrounding buildings shattered. I had waited centuries for him, only to have him ripped away. Why couldn’t I keep him?

  Trevor came home to handle Rick’s affairs. In the process, he discovered that Rick had saved him years ago by pulling him from a burning car. The accident had taken his mother’s life and left Rick with the burns that cost him his arm.

  Trevor, always seeing Rick as his hero, now understood the full truth.

  Though I loved Trevor, I couldn’t remain on Earth without Rick. I decided to risk everything on one of Rick’s theories: that a sentient ghost could change its lingering attachment. It was dangerous—I could cease to exist entirely. But I didn’t care. If Rick still remembered me, perhaps I could join him.

  To my amazement, it worked. I was pulled across space and time—not to the great beyond, but to where Rick was. His memory of me tethered my soul to him.

  But as I reached the outskirts of the universe, I felt an immense weight pressing down on me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t move forward.

  “Please, let me be with him!” I screamed, struggling against the impossible.

  Suddenly, the weight vanished, and a prompt appeared:

  Trait Gained: [Red String of Fate]

  The Goddesses of Love and Fate have been moved by your determination to be with the man you love. The Red String of Fate connects you to those you share a bond with and prevents separation against your will.

  Goddess of Fate says: “We got your back, girlfriend!”

  Goddess of Love says: “Binding can also be a form of freedom, you know.”

  If I could blush, I would have turned crimson. That last comment reminded me of an incident involving Rick’s computer and an embarrassing internet search I accidentally triggered. I destroyed the device out of mortification.

  I arrived in a forested, undeveloped world and saw a baby with golden eyes. I knew instantly it was Rick, though he didn’t recognize me. Nearby stood a beautiful Elven woman, pregnant with a soulless child. Without intervention, it would be stillborn.

  It was perfect—a new vessel. Yet I hesitated to take it without permission. Another prompt appeared, reassuring me:

  Goddess of Fate says: “Take it! This vessel will allow you to be with him, and [Red String of Fate] will let you communicate with her. She’ll understand—just tell her your story.”

  Trusting her guidance, I entered the fetus. Over the next few days, I shared my story with my new mother. She wept as I recounted my centuries of waiting, my love for Rick, and the heartbreak of his loss. Even to an Elf, centuries were a long time to wait for love.

  She promised to help me in any way she could, proud to be part of a prophecy that foretold the rise of the Green Elves.

  For the first time in centuries, I felt hope. I would have a chance to be with Rick again.

  After everything I gave, why couldn't you let me keep him?

  When did that become the case? I wondered. I said my farewells to Trevor as I prepared to risk everything on one of Ricks many theories. The theory that if a ghost was sentient enough, it could change its lingering attachment. A risky theory that could end my existence as I knew it, but I did not care. If wherever he was, he still remembered me and cared for me at all, we could be together again.

  Wherever he was, he still remembered me! I pulled and the tether launching me towards him faster, but when I reached the outskirts of our universe, it felt like a mountain weighed down on me. No matter how hard I tried, I could not move forward. I did not give up however, and I continued to struggle against the impossible. "Please, let me be with him!" I screamed. I felt the weight disappear off of me as something like a blue paper appeared in my vision.