Ghosted and Still Here

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Bold text is when Wukong is talking but in spirit form and noone around him can see him

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Bold text is when Wukong is talking but in spirit form and noone around him can see him.

Normal text is for when he is both heard and seen, or in his body

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Wukong couldn't believe it.

Heaven had betrayed him in the form of his 'freedom'. His soul was stripped of his sins, yes. His soul was enlightened and therefore he was better than before, yes. And the circlet was removed, as promised.

But he was just that now, a soul.

He remembered the shock he'd felt as he stared at his still body, its face neutral, as if the monkey was asleep. Flowers and vines began to move along his body, decorating it. Wukong remembered reaching for it, trying to free himself or reconnect--

He'd fazed right through.

And then he was home once again, with the day looking deceptively joyous at his return. The king stared at his subjects, watching them cluelessly play as his translucent hands grazed their heads. They felt him, he knew they did, because they tended to laugh or chirp whenever he did.

But they couldn't see him, they couldn't hear him. They knew he was around, and his heart shattered as he watched them try to find their beloved king.

He was worse than a ghost, for at least a wandering spirit could be seen and heard. Wukong stepped away from his children, moving towards the stone palace within the cave. He'd been planning on taking it down and replacing it with a cottage for him and his subjects, but how could he do so now?

So he simply entered the palace, and cried for however long it took until he realized his tears dissipated like stars before they could touch the ground.

How could he protect his subjects? How could he be king? How could he...

Wukong stood back up, a tiredness seeping in. Maybe his magic would do, just enough to keep those with bad intentions away. His hands moved, and a piece of his soul went into the orb of golden light as it then moved out, spreading like a beautiful flare across the mountain.

He wished he could do more.

---

Mirrors were a joke to him.

The king could never see his reflection, and it made a boiling, red-hot anger bubble up within him. The only reason he keeps coming back to them is because they made him feel something. It meant he wasn't imaginary.

His anger suddenly flared, and he caught the reflection of two red flashes.

Wukong's eyes widened, he'd seen something. His anger quickly morphed into desperation as he leaned in, hands hovering over the smooth surface. And eventually, his reflection emerged.

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