Beth hummed to herself as she walked through the forest near her flat. She’d moved into the suburb of Willowbrook a couple months ago, and had taken to exploring the local area on the weekends. It seemed that everywhere, there was something new to discover. Last week, she’d found a small cave; the week before that, a stream rushing over a set of rocks, forming a miniature waterfall. Even if she didn’t find anything, the opportunity to get out in nature was delightful.

As the light began to fade, she started to make tracks for home, walking towards the brilliant reds and purples of the sunset. Taking a different path than she had on the way out here, she stopped to admire a rosebush, which she realised with a start was on the side of a smaller trail. Peering up the trail to see if there was anything interesting further along, she was met with the sight of more flowers - lilacs and azaleas and hyacinths, many of them cultivated, not native - lining it. There was a definite wildness to them, as though they hadn’t been tended to recently, but they hinted towards a garden further up. She didn’t even know anyone lived that way and so, checking that her phone and torch were readily available and charged, set up the trail.

It wasn’t long until her little detour paid off, the trees opening up to a small clearing in which sat a long-abandoned house. Any paint was long gone, the roof had collapsed, and the timbers seemed scorched and unsteady. It wouldn’t have been a particularly inviting prospect, were it not for the incredible garden surrounding it. Flowers, fruits, and herbs of every variety were crammed into this small space, in a riot of colour that was stunning to behold. In the centre of the front garden, there was a field of bluebells through which a cobblestone path wound its way to what would have been the front door. And kneeling in the middle of that field was a figure.

Their back was turned to Beth, so she couldn’t see much - medium-length black hair worn loose and somewhat messy, covering a white dress that seemed to her consciously outdated. Their hands were moving in front of them, seemingly tending to the nearby bluebells. Beth frowned in confusion. Why tend to the garden of a decrepit cottage? Well, there was an easy way to find out.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” she called. The figure’s head whipped around, looking at her almost in bafflement. Her eyes were almost hidden behind her fringe, and she wore an expression somewhere between hope and confusion as Beth continued. “Is this garden yours?”

The strange woman pointed to herself, tilting her head. Her voice was high and breathy as she spoke, in a manner that seemed to suggest she was unused to doing so. “Are… are you addressing me?”

“Uh, yeah? Who else would I be talking to?” Beth gestured around vaguely, indicating the complete lack of anyone else in the small clearing. This seemed to confuse the other woman even more.

“If… This may seem to be an unusual request, but if it is I you are addressing, may you please describe my appearance?” Beth’s own confusion deepened in turn.

“…Sure? You’re a young woman, about my age, with long black hair and… I think green eyes? You’re in a white dress and leather shoes, and you’re kneeling right there.” She pointed directly at the woman’s chest.

“You can perceive me,” she breathed.

“Is there… a reason I wouldn’t be able to?”

The woman stood up, and then, to Beth’s shock, continued to rise until she was several inches off the ground. “For a start, there is the fact that I am dead.”

Beth stumbled back in shock. “What? You can’t be - ghosts aren’t real…”

The other woman smiled kindly. “I am afraid we are. Are you willing for me to demonstrate?” Beth nodded, transfixed as her conversation partner glided smoothly over to her, before reaching out a hand which phased directly through the one Beth raised to meet it. She gasped at the sensation: cold, accompanied by an electric tingling, but not unpleasant.

“R-right.” She laughed nervously. “I’ve just met a ghost girl in the woods. So, uh… what’s your name, and why can I see you - I assume from your reaction that most people can’t?”

The other woman flinched in surprise. “I… I beg your pardon. Do you… consider me to be a girl?”

“Well, a woman, but - oh, sorry, do you not identify that way? I just saw the long hair and dress and assumed; that’s bad of me. What term would you prefer I use?”

The ghost seemed to be tearing up slightly. “No, that is… I am not used to people seeing me as a woman. I am more accustomed to being treated as though I were just a man, acting at being a woman. There were… few of my peers were willing to overlook that I was born with… a man’s parts.”

Understanding washed over Beth. “Ah, I see. Well, for a start, I would say that, given that they’re yours, they’re a woman’s parts. But as far as I’m concerned - as many people these days are concerned - if you say you are a woman, then you’re a woman. So… what’s your name?”

The ghost sniffled happily. “M-Matilda,” she admitted hesitantly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Matilda. I’m Beth, by the way. I’d offer you my hand, but, uh…”

Matilda sniffled again. “My apologies for the state I am in,” she said as she produced a handkerchief from somewhere on her person.

“No need to apologise; it’s nice to be acknowledged. Take your time.”

Once Matilda regained her composure, floating back to the ground so her eyes were level with Beth’s, she took a deep breath and spoke again. “You wished to know why you can see me, yes? You are correct, few can. I believe it is because you are a witch.”

“Because I’m a… right, let’s just go with it. Ghosts are real, and I can see them because I’m a witch. How do you know that?”

“It is quite simple. I am one too.”

“Ah. If it’s not, um, too insensitive… may I ask if that’s related to how you, uh, died?”

Matilda looked away, fading slightly at the memory. “Yes, that is correct. That, and my desire to be seen as a woman, did not earn me many favours with the people of Willowbrook. My fellow witches and warlocks were more accepting, fortunately, but one night…” She shuddered, fighting tears again.

“I’m sorry to have brought it up. Don’t feel the need to continue.”

“…S-sufice it to say, th-there is a reason my cottage is now m-mostly comprised of… of charcoal.”

“So this was your garden, then. It’s beautiful.”

Matilda’s countenance brightened somewhat. “Thank you. I cannot influence the material world much, any more, but my magic has been particularly adept at nurturing my plants. I have been able to keep them fairly well for the past… I suppose it has been over half a millennium.”

“So, speaking of magic - if I’m a witch, why can’t I do it?”

“Accessing one’s powers requires what, in my time, we called a Spark. Typically, this was conducted with a dedicated spell or potion, but exposure to any sufficiently powerful, direct source of magic will suffice. However, that requires you to be recognised as a witch or warlock by a fellow to begin with, and as I understand it, those are fewer and further between today than they were in my time. Additionally, recognising someone as a witch or warlock requires either a different spell that few can master, or for you to demonstrate some other supernatural aptitude, such as your ability to perceive ghosts - but again, magic is rarer today than it used to be. Given all of those factors, I would say it is hardly unusual that you would have lived thus far without discovering your abilities.”

Beth took a moment to digest the information. “Okay. So, how would I go about getting a Spark, then? I doubt I could just put out an ad asking someone for help…”

“I do not believe so, no. Unfortunately, unless you were to be exposed to someone directly using magic - which is unlikely, as we have always been a very secretive breed - I doubt you will be able to access that power.”

“Ah, well. At least I got to meet you. So, may I ask why you’re a ghost? Presumably not everyone becomes one, or else I’d have realised far sooner, so… do you have unfinished business or something?”

“I believe it is to do with how I perceive myself. A soul reflects the person’s self-image: how they think of themself. For many, the soul is your idealised self, and, as far as we knew in my time at any rate, people with such souls do not become ghosts, but rather proceed to the afterlife. However… after so much doubt and naysaying, I have become unable to shift the idea that I am, on some level, a man playing dress-up. I know, objectively, that that is untrue. I had someone failing to cast a spell on me because they used my baptismal name; I have a far greater aptitude for women’s magic than men’s. But something within me still makes me see myself as having the body I was born with, not the sort I desire, and I doubt that I will be able to move on unless I somehow have the experience… of…”

Matilda trailed off, looking thoughtful. “You alright there?” Beth asked.

“An idea has just occurred to me. It may seem absurd to you, and I will not object if you refuse, but… would you allow me to possess you?”

“What? I, uh…”

“Temporarily, of course: I would only request a night and a day. But if you did… that should prove an adequate Spark, especially if I cast other spells through your body. And… it would allow me to experience corporeality in a more natural-feeling body, and hopefully move on. As much as I am fond of this garden, this is a static, unchanging experience. I want something different.”

“…What would getting possessed feel like? Do you know?”

“As far as I am aware, you would be present, but distant within your own mind; a somewhat out-of-body experience. Your thoughts and emotions would mostly be suppressed, as though you were dozing, but we would be able to communicate mentally with perfect clarity. I would be able to access your experiential and procedural memories, but I swear I will leave alone anything that is not crucial for existing within the modern world and keeping you safe.”

Beth thought about it for a long while, Matilda waiting patiently. Eventually, she took a deep breath. “Very well. I’m willing to take this risk if it means I can help you - and myself, I suppose. Is there, uh, anything I need to do?”

Matilda smiled - timidly, but conveying genuine depth of emotion. “Thank you. Words cannot express how grateful I am to you for this.” She walked to stand directly in front of Beth, looking her in the eye. “There is nothing I need you to do, other than repeat this after me: ‘For a night and a day, I shall not oppose your presence.’”

“For a night and a day, I shall not oppose your presence.”

“And for a night and a day, I shall care for your body.”

Matilda reached out for an embrace, which Beth instinctively went to return. Their forms slid through each other, Beth feeling the cold and tingles all across her body now. As Matilda turned to align her body with Beth’s, the living woman felt the tingling grow stronger, spreading across her body and seeming to envelop her mind as well. Her thoughts became fuzzy, as though her brain was filled with static. Then, as Matilda vanished from view, the coldness rushed over her mind as well, as Matilda’s thoughts began to replace her own. She could feel her power and autonomy fading, becoming detached from her body, merely a passenger along for the ride. Beth’s eyes rolled back in her skull and she briefly slumped forward, only for her body to catch itself - or, rather, for Matilda to catch themselves, ending up on one knee, trailing a hand to actually feel the flowers she’d tended to for the first time in centuries as her eyes opened up and Beth found herself semi-conscious, floating in a sea of green.

A broad smile involuntarily spread across Matilda’s face. It was incredibly refreshing to just feel - well, anything. The weight of a physical body - which, even if unfamiliar to her, felt far more like hers than her original one ever had - but also the ability to touch, to breathe, to have a heartbeat, to just- exist, truly, in a way she had not for a long time. Even senses she had possessed during her time trapped as a ghost - her sight and her hearing - felt more real than they had before.

Beth’s body was rather shorter than Matilda’s had been, with a more substantial frame, darker skin, and curlier hair. It was also, she suddenly fully realised, possessed of breasts and a vulva, and she found her hands automatically drifting towards those areas before she stopped herself out of politeness. As she halted, however, another voice - Beth’s - drifted through her mind.

You can touch, Matilda. I won’t mind. Beth’s mental voice was dreamy and placid, as indeed she was half asleep, but the depth of her sincerity was evident.

Are you certain? I do not wish to impose…

Beth giggled mentally. I was sure that’d be the first thing you did. You’re here to get the full AFAB experience, no? I’m on board with a cute girl feeling me up a bit…

AFAB?, Matilda asked. The answer immediately shot into her mind, pulled from Beth’s without a hint of resistance. Ah. I see. Hesitantly, a blush rising to her cheeks, Matilda brought her hands - Beth’s hands? - she resolved to think of them as her hands for now; it would save time - to her chest and between her legs. She was unsure what she had been expecting beyond confirmation that she was now in possession of the body she had longed for, and so was surprised by the jolt of an unfamiliar emotion that coursed through her as she received that confirmation. No, unfamiliar was wrong. It was the same emotion she had experienced when her mentors had started calling her Matilda; when she had begun to grow out her hair and first worn a dress. Akin to joy, but deeper. The word euphoria sprang to her mind, from where she was uncertain. It felt incredible.

After spending what had to be at least a minute standing in her front garden in a happy daze, Matilda realised she ought to get the two of them home for the night. Considering how to get there, she once again felt the answers flooding into her mind, offered up willingly by a dazed Beth. Looking around her garden to bid it one last farewell, Matilda strode off down the path, leaving the grounds of her house for the first time in the new millennium, and for what should be the last time ever.

While Matilda’s soul had been bound to her cottage and its grounds, that did not mean she was ignorant of the wider world. News had travelled to her on the wind, through the roots of the plants, and, more subtly, in changes to the weave of magic throughout the world. She was most aware of the decline of magic over the centuries, but other pieces of information had reached her ears. The exploration of the New World - news of which had only just reached the village of Willowbrook by the time of her death - by Europeans, and their discovery of two new continents; one, like the New World, already known of by its other inhabitants, the other completely new, as well as the tragedies and atrocities which accompanied these events. The realisation that the cosmos was far larger and grander than almost anyone in her day could even have conceived of. Greater equality for those like her and others. And, most fortunately for her when it came to navigating, the creation of new technologies: new and frightening weapons of war, certainly, but also marvels such as self-propelled carriages and smooth road surfaces to drive them on; medicines to prevent illnesses she had seen so many fall to; and the harnessing of the power of amber to provide light, connect people in far-flung places, cool perishable food, and for thousands of other purposes that she would have scarcely imagined had she not heard of it through scryings she knew to be truthful. Still, hearing of something was a rather different experience to witnessing it herself. As she approached the former village, now merely an extension of the nearest city, Matilda had to prevent herself from gawking at the street lighting, and then restrain herself from screaming as a self-propelled carriage - a “car”, Beth’s mind informed her - rushed up the street towards her. Steeling herself, Matilda navigated through the familiar and yet alien streets of Willowbrook to her destination, what to her was an impressively tall structure made of vast quantities of concrete and miraculously clear glass, but which to Beth, she was surprised to learn, was merely a mundane, slightly nicer than usual, and comparatively quite short set of “flats”. Matilda asked her why they were called “flats” given how tall they were, and received no reply; clearly, Beth was just as clueless as her. Reaching into Beth’s pocket, hands moving by her host’s instinct, Matilda retrieved a small card made of… what was it called? Bakelite? - and pressed it to a slot on the door, which opened automatically. Entering a small metal room, she pressed a button and, with a strange lurching sensation in her stomach, was lifted to the sixth - sixth! - storey of this building, where she once again instinctively navigated to the correct door and pressed the card to another slot on it, hearing the click of the lock and pushing it open.

Entering Beth’s flat, Matilda was greeted by a small black cat, who hissed at her and darted away, presumably having detected that Beth was currently possessed. Rifling through her host’s memories, Matilda determined that the cat was called Abe. She would have to deal with him later, but for now… Beth’s stomach rumbled. Dinner it was, then.

Dealing with the entirety of a modern kitchen felt rather beyond Matilda’s capabilities right now. Perhaps if she had some more time, on the scale of weeks, to assimilate her host’s memories - but she respected Beth’s right to autonomy. She settled for heating up some leftovers, a task that felt more in her wheelhouse. Her body practically moved of its own accord as Beth’s instincts took over, retrieving a casserole of some sort from the ice box and placing it in the small stove on one shelf, which emitted a series of beeps and then a whirring sound as her fingers glided across the buttons. The machine beeped again to signal its readiness, and Matilda sat down to tuck in. The meal’s main ingredient was some sort of red fruit, unfamiliar to her, with a mildly acidic taste - tomato, Beth’s sleepy consciousness informed her. It was delicious, and Matilda made sure to send her compliments to the chef inside her head.

After cleaning the dishes - with running hot water and liquid soap, minor miracles in their own right to Matilda’s eyes - she was at something of a loss for what to do next. Her evenings had typically been occupied with preparing materials for spells or potions, but that was naturally not an option here. As she wandered into the bedroom, a yowl reminded her of the flat’s other occupant. She supposed she had better befriend him and feed him dinner. And what better opportunity would there be to give Beth her promised Spark? Taking a steadying breath, Matilda began to focus on the magical energies around her, drawing them in to establish a line of communication with the dark ball of fur in front of her.

Beth had been more-or-less asleep in the green haze at the centre of her mind for the past hour or so, but this jolted her awake. A sensation she could only describe as power flowed through her body as Matilda twisted her mouth into unfamiliar configurations, contorting her hands and pulling on something that was rapidly entering her comprehension at the same time. She felt a snap as the spell was completed, and suddenly realised that Abe’s grumbling was now being rendered to her as actual words. Well, this would be interesting. She’d always wondered what he had to say.

“You’re not my human. Why are you pretending to be her? You’re not welcome here. Get out!”

Matilda sketched a deep curtsey in apology. “I am sorry, Mr. Abraham, for my intrusion. Beth provided me with use of her body for a night and a day, and after that I shall leave. I hope I may prove an adequate replacement for this time.”

Abe’s fur returned to a settled position. He sniffed, in a way that Beth would have interpreted as disdainful even without the spell. “Well, you know your place, at least. And you can actually have an intelligent conversation with me. I suppose, if you promise you mean myself and her no harm, that you may stay.”

“I promise. Shall I get you some dinner?”

“Very well, if you insist. I can fend for myself, you know.”

“I have no doubt of it.” Was that… sarcasm in Matilda’s voice? The witch had seemed almost painfully sincere until this point. Well, good for her.

Under the guidance of Beth’s instincts - and that was a weird sensation, feeling her memories almost siphoned away from her, only to be spat back once Matilda was done with them - her body was puppeted around to fill up Abe’s bowl and place it in front of him. He ate it daintily as always, mewing at her afterwards as he licked his lips, then seeming to react in slight disappointment as he - and Beth - realised the spell had faded, before padding off to hide in one of the many nooks he’d somehow found around the flat.

Beth sank back below the surface for the rest of the evening. Matilda’s mind was a comforting place to be trapped in, she discovered, the sea of green lapping away at her thoughts, allowing her to just exist without having to worry about her body, or how to entertain herself, or really anything at all. She vaguely realised that, if the ghost’s intentions had been more nefarious, she might have more to worry about; as it was, however, she could just drift blissfully. She was just about aware of Matilda tapping into her memories again to understand how to work the TV, putting on some junky game show that Beth would’ve rolled her eyes at and moved past without a second thought, but which Matilda clung to as though it were the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. It was certainly an interesting experience, feeling Matilda’s wonder at the modern day filter through to her, seeing the world through new eyes, as it were.

Beth would realise just how apt that metaphor was when she returned to something more like consciousness later that evening, as Matilda prepared to shower. She’d already been nudged closer by Matilda almost forgetting she had to pee sitting down now - a jolt of embarrassment followed by euphoria from the ghost, and a wave of relief from Beth at the fact that neither of them would have to clean up any mess - but what really got her was the sight of her reflection as Matilda stripped off. Her eyes, far from her usual brown, were glowing bright green, an exaggeration of Matilda’s natural colour. Is that what we look like?, she wondered.

Yes and no. To the eyes of most, we look the same as you usually do. To someone magically attuned such as ourselves, however, yes - the signs of possession are quite evident. Speaking of which, I assume you noticed the Spark I provided?

Yeah, I did. The world feels… more alive, I think.

That is a good way to describe it. I felt far more invigorated after my own Sparking, and providing that to someone else seems to have returned some of that vigour. Beth realised that Matilda’s gaze had been compelled downwards, and she was now staring at Beth’s boobs. Realising she’d been caught, the ghost shook her head rapidly to clear it, and stepped into the shower. However, as she soaped their body up, both of them could feel a burst of arousal spreading through them as Matilda glided their hands across their breasts, squirming slightly as she did so.

Having fun there? Beth teased. She could feel the blush spreading across their cheeks.

Oh! By the stars, I am so sorry, I-

No need to apologise, Matilda. You’re in here now; why not get the full experience? And, as I said earlier, I’m always up for having fun with such a cute girl as yourself…

Matilda’s blush deepened, but as the suds rinsed off, she brought her hands to more firmly clasp Beth’s breasts, gasping at the stimulation as she pinched one nipple. Beth felt an unusual disconnect. On the one hand - so to speak - it was her hands, playing with her breasts. But given that those hands were decidedly out of her control, and moving in ways quite different from how she usually treated herself, it was also as if someone else was feeling her up - which, of course, was what was happening, but… it was confusing, was what she settled on. But far from unpleasant, she amended, moaning mentally as Matilda bit back a moan of her own, one hand continuing to tend to her chest as the other slowly, hesitantly wended its way down her torso and towards her slit. Beth tried to project a feeling of welcome; of eagerness, even, and it seemed to work as Matilda’s fingers grazed along the length of her lower lips. The ghost let a whimper escape Beth’s lips, her exploring picking up the pace as she began to stroke back and forth along the length of Beth’s vulva, biting her lip in an attempt to keep the noise down. Soon, she could slip one finger inside, then another, Beth’s enjoyment spurring her on just as much as her own as the sound of her panting began to fill the shower and her head. The two of them climbed closer and closer to the peak in lockstep - because how else could it be? - and then Matilda allowed herself access to Beth’s most intimate memories, ripping them slapdash into her own mind, leaving Beth mentally gasping in surprise as Matilda curled her fingers inside her and brushed a thumb against her clit and the two of them came as one, their knees almost giving out as Matilda clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her moans, slumping against the shower wall as Beth fell deep into pleasure and sleep.

Matilda awoke the next morning eager to properly explore modern Willowbrook. After bumbling through breakfast - she had tried to rouse Beth’s mind, but had received little more than a sleepy murmur, the other girl dozy from a combination of the possession suppressing her mind and the surprisingly powerful effects of her… “self-exploration” did not seem the correct term for what she had indulged in the previous night, but it was the most explicit term she was willing to think of - she had fed Abe, put on a gorgeous dress that Beth had hanging in her closet, run her body through its usual morning routine, and stepped outside the flat.

She was promptly met with the base of a cane being pointed at her chest, wielded by an elderly woman who, under most circumstances, would have looked sweet and kind. Right in this moment, however, her expression was of an angry, distrustful glower. “This is your one warning, spectre,” she growled, thrusting the cane at her. “Leave my neighbour this instant, or you’ll see exactly what this can do.”

Crap. Not just an old woman, then: a witch, and one who had a distinctly wrong - if completely justified - idea of what was transpiring here. Matilda instinctually began summoning the energy for a magic-reading spell, to tell what this woman was doing, but realised that wouldn’t help here, and instead retreated deep into her mind, raising her arms in surrender as she kicked Beth back into control of her body. Help! Wake up! She’s a witch! Tell her you are fine!

There was a strange warping sensation as Beth regained control, Matilda now experiencing what her host had been for the past half-day or so. She could feel Beth blinking blearily, shaking her head to wake herself up, and - to her credit - seizing control of the half-finished spell and seeing it to completion. All of these came to her on a slight delay, Matilda feeling Beth’s intent before she was aware of her body acting on it. With the spell complete, Matilda could now see a distinct purple glow around the end of the cane - or staff, rather - with sigils forming a banishment spell, ready to go. She could feel Beth frown, and then open her mouth to speak. “Good morning, Gloria. Mind catching me up to speed?”

“Hold still, girl. There’s a spectre possessing you, and I intend to rid you of it.”

“Wait wait wait! Matilda’s fine; I let her in until sunset today. Don’t banish her!”

Gloria frowned suspiciously, but lowered her staff slightly. “You allowed a ghost to- hold up, you could see it? What, exactly, were the terms of this deal?”

“She’d possess me for a night and a day, and in turn would, uh, “Spark” me? She said it would allow her to move on. We both swore an oath before it happened…”

Gloria now planted the staff back on the ground, the banishment aura disappearing from its end. Her eyes glazed over slightly as she looked Beth up and down, clearly Seeing something, although Matilda was unsure what. Eventually, she sniffed in a tone of slight disapproval. “Well, it seems as though this’ll work out for you this time, young witch. Just don’t go making a habit of inviting anyone and everyone into your head, alright? I suppose you’ll be wanting training, then.”

“I- uh, if you can provide it, I’d be grateful.”

Gloria waved her off. “Eh, you’ve already made yourself useful around the place. Keep doing that, and I’ll be happy to teach you a few tricks here and there. Just don’t show up possessed again - I won’t be as kind a second time.” With that, she turned on her heel and shuffled back into her flat. The terms of the possession meant that Matilda had needed to hold herself back from taking control; with the danger past, she immediately slipped back into the front, slumping on slightly shaky legs against the wall as Beth’s consciousness faded back down.

Well, that was interesting, her host commented.

That is certainly one way to phrase it. Well, on the positive side, it appears as though you will have a good mentor, should you wish to cultivate your power.

Yeah. Gloria’s scary when she’s pissed, it turns out. But let’s put that behind us for now, eh? You wanted a tour of the village - suburb, now - correct? Well, I can be your tour guide… if I can stay awake long enough.

That would be lovely. My apologies for the drowsiness; possession tends to do that to simplify affairs for the spirit.

Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s nice to just fall asleep for 24 hours straight for once, y’know?

Over the rest of the day, Beth’s memories - and thoughts, when she could muster them up - took Matilda around the highlights of Willowbrook. She was particularly fascinated by the local history museum, although it gave little attention to her era, being far more focused on the mill that had been set up around 300 years later. The small eatery - “café” - she recommended was also a marvellous experience, as she sampled more exotic flavours than she could have even dreamed of during her life.

Evening crept up on her almost suddenly, as she was standing on a small stone bridge just outside town - one of the few landmarks that was unchanged from how she remembered. All of a sudden, she felt a pulling sensation on her soul - a call from elsewhere that she had not heard before. Beth mentally stirred. Is it time?

I believe so. I… I think I will be able to move on now.

I’m glad I could help. It was short, but I’ll cherish the memories of our time together.

So will I. Thank you, Beth.

Beth felt a tugging sensation; Matilda being pulled away from her. There was another whirl of disorientation as their minds and spirits separated and she regained control of her body. The sensation was overpowering enough that she stumbled just as the ghost had yesterday. She thought she saw a brief flash of white travelling upwards away from her, but by the time she could properly get a handle on her surroundings, it was gone. Her mind felt oddly… empty as she walked home.

Abe mewled at her when she got in, rubbing up against her legs and purring happily. Almost instinctively, she replicated the same words and motions Matilda had gone through, drawing on the power she could now feel subtly everywhere, and once more feeling the spell click into place.

“You’re you again. Good.”

“Matilda wasn’t that bad, was she?”

Abe sniffed dismissively. “She was… adequate. Knew how to talk to me with due deference, although her petting technique was atrocious. You’re better, I think.”

“Glad to hear it. I’ll get you your dinner now.”

“Hop to it, woman!” She swore she could have heard a slight hint of teasing in his voice. Was she now going to have to deal with her cat sassing her verbally as well as bodily? Ah, well, it was a small price to pay. As Beth got dinner for the two of them and started about the motions of her nightly routine, her thoughts kept returning to the ghost. How was Matilda doing now? As she went to sleep, she hoped with all her heart she was alright.

Beth dreamt that she was in a small bedroom, lit by candlelight. Outside the window was a vibrantly blooming garden, filled with every variety of garden. She was just putting the pieces together when the door swung open. On the threshold stood Matilda, appearing not as she had in life, but rather, as her spirit truly should be. The spirit smiled shyly as she made her way across the floor of her bedroom, to join her guest on her bed.

“Where are we?” It was half thought, half speech. Matilda grinned more broadly as she sat down and embraced her.

“In your dreams, of course. I am allowed to visit you here, every so often.” Her breath tickled Beth’s ear as her words echoed through her head.

“For what purpose?”

“Whatever you would like, my darling.” Matilda’s hand reached around to cup Beth’s cheek, and Beth mirrored the gesture for her, pulling their lips inevitably closer together.

“Fortunately… I think our interests align.”

When she woke up the next morning, there were bluebells woven through her hair.