Phantom Hollow you can run

She introduced herself—Atka. He made no comment more, for the petite dove was busy tending to his wounds, and he was still reeling from the situation he had found himself in once more. Pride and anger had gotten the best of him, and the ebony wolf huffed softly, wincing as she began to patch up what the Heartwood guardian had bestowed so swiftly.

Another grimace at her ministrations, Akavir could only offer a wry smile at her suggestion of choosing his battles more carefully. If I could make that promise, I would, he murmured, teeth gritting as he shifted slightly, champagne eyes steeling upon the wound she tended. I guess this is punishment for trying to close a chapter of my life.

The Mayfairs we’re spiritual in many ways, though his father had been skeptical. Witches… magics… after today, Akavir knew there would always be a lingering question as to whether his dead wife had sent some sort of hellhound on him. He leaned back against the tree now, releasing a slow breath and trying not to consider the possibility that Ibis had grown to hate him before her death. 

Do you believe in ghosts?