She waited as the crowds gathered to witness the unveiling of the new Isles and watched intently for anything odd or odder than usual, she hated being caught off guard. Last time it wasn’t even the evil God that had taken her by surprise and, instead, it was the sudden surge of magic that wove fire and ice, unearthed the earth and brought forth the lightening. It had been a sudden rush, a mad dash to kill the evil creature before anything could happen, but in the ferocity they (as well as she) had risked harming others. Yet, Ghost turned the situation over in her head and couldn’t see a different way to react. If they had been given a few days of preparation and marched into battle to defeat the evil Gods, then perhaps, but on such short notice it was hard to berate herself and her fellow Helovians for the knee jerk reaction; despite the recurring consequences. Though Ghost often wondered why these Gods came one by one, if they came all at once surely they'd stand a chance, but then she was quite glad they were so solitary. Those who came from the Rift almost always appeared glad to be free of it and again, they gather, like sheep to their Shepard and wait for the ‘what might be’. Ghost could feel the tenseness run up her spine as she suddenly realized she was holding her breath. She puffed the air from her lips, snorting through her nose and allowing herself to drift down closer to the ground, but still she lingered above.

Then it happened.

A God in the form of a tiger pounced from the shadows and grabbed at its desired prey, only for a moment, but enough that Ghost gasps sharply as the Earth bellows. She waits the sudden duel of wills to end and the following words whilst the two begin to circle. Cat vs turtle; Rift vs Helovia. The battle begun.

She couldn’t hesitate, she couldn’t second-guess herself, the spy had to fight and ignore the natural fear that niggled the back of her mind. 

The earth trembles, Ghost knows this magic and she spots Archibald and his mutt charge into battle whilst others follow in a similar manner. Yet, the tiger is no normal tiger and wherever it treads it leaves black tar causing Ghost to wrinkle her nose in disgust. The banshee decides to try remain in the air, the same choice she had made last time before being knocked out of it by the sheer force of the magic being cast, magic that was also being cast now. But, the banshee sticks to her same strategy and decides to shadow a bay mare and a young white dun. As the spy did so, she casts her ice magic and aims for the ground beneath the claws of the tiger, hoping the combination of the shaking ground combined with the sudden ice would at least rob the tiger of its balance and allow her airborne allies a chance of success.

Armoured and calculating, she lingered above the fray, waiting for a moment to swoop in herself.