Vasharti sat by the lakeside, the moonlight casting a silvery sheen over the still water. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore was a soothing contrast to the turmoil within him. He gazed into the lake, his reflection blurred by the ripples, but his thoughts were far from the tranquility of the night.

As he stared into the depths, the world around him faded, and the past began to unfold like a hidden stream. He was no longer by the lake but back in the shadowy confines of the arena—a secret place known only to a select few on Thet'hea. Here, in the depths of secrecy, his training had taken place when he was just sixteen or seventeen, a young Starcaller thrust into a world of violence and expectation.

The arena was a place of hidden horrors, where Vasharti had been forced to battle creatures from other worlds for training purposes; their ferocity matched only by his father’s ruthless demands. Amir, the King of Thet'hea, had orchestrated these clandestine fights, concealing his brutal tactics from the Starcaller people. The young Vasharti had been thrust into this grim spectacle, his every move dictated by the harsh, unyielding rules set by his father.

The rules were as stark as they were simple: win and the creature would die; lose and the creature would gain its freedom, a fleeting chance to escape the arena’s deadly embrace. The stakes were high, and Vasharti had been pitted against fearsome opponents, each battle a test of his strength and will.

The memory was vivid: he was a boy, just stepping into the crucible of combat. The air was heavy with the scent of blood and sweat as he faced a towering beast, its eyes burning with a mixture of fury and desperation. The fight was fierce, a blur of movement and power. Vasharti, young and fierce, fought with every ounce of his training, his cosmic silver eyes flashing as he battled to fulfill the expectations placed upon him.

The clash ended with the beast lying defeated at his feet, the weight of victory pressing heavily on his young shoulders. As he stood over the lifeless creature, the voice of his father echoed in his mind: “No mercy.” It was a chilling command, a reminder of the ruthless legacy that had shaped his upbringing.

The memory ebbed away, and Vasharti was back by the lakeside, the calm of the water a welcome reprieve from the turmoil of his recollection. He took a deep breath, trying to shed the shadows of his past. But as he looked down at the lake’s reflection, the serene surface was disturbed.

There, in the shimmering water, appeared the ghostly image of his father. Amir’s cold silver hues seemed to pierce through the calm, a haunting reminder of the legacy that still lingered. The vision was fleeting, but its impact was profound.

Vasharti blinked, and the image vanished, leaving only the peaceful reflection of the night sky. Yet, the unease remained, a whisper of the past that would not be silenced.

Prompt 2:  Write a short story about your character's encounter with a spirit or ghost.

  Thet'Hea, Home to the Starcallers and their King. It was a magical planet, large enough to house several species of people, but small enough for easy commute. The royal palace was never out of eyeshot if one lived in the major city. The inside was lavish, yet few ever saw the palace's interior. Two luminous silver hues surveyed the city below from a grand balcony. It was dark, nighttime as the people of Earth called it. Here on this planet, darkness lasts many months. That same cosmic gaze panned upwards to an equally similar starry sky of Terra plant that humans lived on. Fixation, however, was not the stars. It was time, the alignment of several planets marked a sacred occasion for the Starcaller People; Primarily their King. Vasharti. Ever since his father's death, Vash had ruled the small planet of Thet'Hea. He had done right by his people, even where his father had not. His people adored him and their opinions of his rulership were always positive. Vasharti turned, a look of distaste crossing his features. His figure disappeared into the darkness of his palace. 

 It was time for the meeting of Royals. Past Kings, and their seconds to the throne would speak to him through the alignment of the planets. It was an occasion that happened once every seventy years. Now, with his father gone, the burden of duty fell to his shoulders. As Vash made his way through the kingly halls, his mind was left to wander to his father. He'd meet him again. He disliked his father and his ways. Vash did not want to rule, he didn't ask for this, but it seemed as though his father still had a thumb on him even from the grave. The doors to a dome-shaped inspired room opened with the thud of heavy marble finding its resting place. The scenery was dull here. The room lay mostly empty with the exception of large draping curtains hiding all sources of light from the outside. Here also stood Vasharti's second in command, a radiant celestial by the name of Seren. She loyally served his father and now aided Vash in his time. Seren beckoned Vasharti forward with a simple hand motion. Vash was a young King, often following the wisdom Seren had to offer. He did as she instructed, placing his hand onto a round grey stone upon a pedestal that looked out of place standing in the center of the empty room. "It's almost time," Seren spoke now from the far side of the spherical room. Her hand flicked closed the same curtain she peered out seconds earlier. "Are you ready, my King?" 

  Vasharti did not answer her but only let out a 'tsk' of irritation at this whole situation. A minute passed in silence, then another. The room was quiet with anticipation before finally a wave of energy pulsed over Vasharti. His hand took the initial brunt as the wave continued to course up his body. A large gasp for air escaped his mouth as if he were taking a large breath before diving underwater. Glowing silver hues pulsed a single but evident time. His eyes now calmed but remained empty, much like the rest of his body mirroring an empty shell of itself. The room around Vash faded, only silhouettes of the curtains and wall structure showed that he was indeed still there. He looked down, noticing his palm was still on the pedestal. He'd made the connection, evident by the dimly glowing stars that naturally would not be in this room. Yet through the darkness appeared a white aura. Slowly it pulled into focus.

"My son."

It spoke. Vasharti knew this voice all too well, even for the short years he'd spent with him. "Father," Vash hissed back as if accepting the challenge for a duel. 

"You don't sound happy to see me." 

  The son did not reply but took in the image of his father. Their skin tone was nearly identical, dark hair and silver hues stared back into his own. Vash had heard the stories of his father and lived through the events that led to his death. His father was unhinged, he waged countless wars after Thet'Hea was first attacked. Not only did he conquer but also forcefully converted other species to Starcallers by altering their DNA. His people were slaves to him, and his servants in the castle, toys. Vasharti had become hardened to these facts, yet still refused to be molded into anything other than what he wanted to be. This was the current reason for his frustration. "Where are the other royals?"

"I've taken care of them so their opinions won't interfere" There was a snide hand flick as if dismissing his son's question. The gold adorning his wrist clanked a muffled rattle; Evident proof that the two were on different planes. Even in death, he was able to end people's existence. Go figure. 

"You're a monster." 

"I'm your father." 

"You made me. I was raised to be you in your death."

"You were made to be my weapon.-- It's just luck that my celestial body deteriorated."

Vash looked down to his wrist. The same two wrist cuffs that his father wore in his ghostly form, Vasharti also wore now. These cuffs allowed for not only the connection of this meeting but also the resurrection of his father. They were adornments with a purpose... Armaments of the royal bloodline. "They think you're dead."

"Show them they're wrong." His father commanded, his familiar cosmic gaze connected with the golden cuff upon his wrist. "Resurrect me. Serve your purpose. Your blood for mine, My Son."

Vash's teeth gritted against each other, a slow but visible grind of his jaw showing through his parted lips. "I'll kill you!" instantaneously, Vasharti pulled his hand from the pedestal that connected him to the Royal's Astral Plane. An angry growl escaped his mouth as he swung his hand, striking the pillar down and shattering the sacred stone to pieces on the floor. It was in impulse mirroring that of his own father.

".. But I am you."