Reborn as a Ghost Rider

The night in the circus town was silent, as if nature itself had held its breath. Distant animal sounds and the occasional footsteps of guards melted into the heavy stillness that blanketed the tents. Naomi awoke suddenly, her family medallion burning against her chest like a hot coal. The hellfire within demanded vengeance.

Carefully, she slipped out of her husband's embrace, trying not to wake him. Bart was exhausted—every day, he worked himself to the bone to provide for their family.

She gave a faint smile, tucked the blanket around him, and kissed his cheek lightly. Throwing a woolen shawl over her shoulders, she walked over to Barb and Danny's cradle. Her little angels were sleeping peacefully. Danny was quietly sucking his thumb, while Barb… as always, seemed to sense eyes watching her or her brother. The baby stirred awake, her big eyes curiously gazing at her mother.

"My little protector," Naomi thought, weaving a quick spell with her fingers. Sparks of green light enveloped Barb, lulling her back to sleep. The girl drifted off, but a pang of unease gripped Naomi's heart: she knew Barb would always fight for her family.

Her unease deepened when she peeked into Johnny's room. The moonlight illuminated an empty bed. A mother's heart clenched.

"Johnny?" she called, glancing around.

A low, raspy voice came from a dark corner of the tent:

"Johnny is no more."

Naomi spun around sharply. Her son stepped out of the shadows, but something was wrong. There was no trace of innocence or childish softness—only a predatory grin and eyes filled with dark cynicism.

"Who are you?" Her voice trembled as her fingers ignited with hellfire. "What have you done to my son?"

The figure in Johnny's body only smirked.

"Me? I've taken what's rightfully mine. All with cursed blood are my vessels. Your son is no exception."

The fire on her fingers flickered out. Naomi froze, fear creeping into her heart.

"You… Zarathos."

The creature clapped mockingly.

"At last, you understand. You've only borne my curse for a few months, yet you've started digging into your family's history. Impressive. But it's inevitable, Naomi. Your bloodline has always belonged to me."

The boy's words sent a chill down Naomi's spine.

"No, no, this can't be," she muttered. "You can't make my son a Ghost Rider! Let him grow up, make friends, finish school. You can't curse him now!"

"I can do anything," Zarathos said, slowly walking over and sitting on the bed with a predatory smile. "Even punish foolish mothers like you."

Naomi took a step back.

"What are you talking about?"

"Your brilliant idea to abandon your family to save them from my curse. You thought it would free them from the Rider's fate? How touching! And how foolish."

"How?" she asked, a chill running down her spine. "How do you know?"

"My energy flows through every descendant of the cursed line. I know everything that happens to each of my vessels," he said with a sneer. "Did you really believe running away would magically drain their cursed blood?"

"But the prophet, he said…"

"The prophet?" Zarathos interrupted with laughter. "That so-called prophet is nothing but Mephisto's pathetic puppet. And you believed his lies."

Naomi felt a tightness in her chest. Mephisto's name was a whisper from her worst nightmares. It wasn't unfamiliar—it had appeared in the first grimoire she ever read. A warning of a cruel, deceitful demon who knew no kindness.

"Mephisto is an old foe of mine," Zarathos continued coldly. "He's craved my power for a long time, but there's no official way for him to become a Ghost Rider. He's looking for a slave."

"My son," she whispered. "My Johnny."

She stepped closer, her eyes blazing with fire.

"If you're so powerful, Zarathos, why don't you stop him yourself?"

"I am Zarathos. I serve neither mortals nor your hell nor your heavenly God. But my fate is tied to this boy, and through him, to you. If your family falls, if you fail to oppose Mephisto, I will end up in his chains. That, I will not allow."

Naomi stared into Johnny—or Zarathos'—eyes and felt each word pierce her soul.

"How can I stand against Mephisto? He's the almighty Satan."

"Strength doesn't lie in those who lie about their power. Mephisto is not God, nor Satan, as he claims. He is a pathetic worm, a liar who feeds on fear and pain. You carry a power far greater than his. The Rider's power. It belongs to your bloodline, your heritage."

Johnny paused, his voice slowing, almost hypnotic.

"Summon him, mortal. Strike a deal. Deceive the deceiver—that's his weakness. Write a contract and hide your trap within it. Strike him at his core. When he believes he's won, take everything from him. Then cast him into servitude. You can do this, for the Rider's power is your legacy."

"That's… impossible," Naomi whispered, her mind racing to grasp Zarathos' words.

"You can. You're stronger than you think, Naomi. You are a Rider, and he is just a demon. He fears you but will pretend otherwise. Make him believe he's winning. Use his pride. Only then can you truly save your family."

"And my son? Will you spare him from becoming a Ghost Rider?"

"Time's up. I've said all you need to know. Now you must act. If you waste time, you'll lose everything."

Johnny fell silent, his small body going limp as though his strength had left him. He slumped against Naomi's shoulder, quietly sobbing.

"Mom, I… I don't know what I said… I… I'm scared…"

Zarathos was gone. Only a frightened boy remained.

Naomi held her son tightly, feeling his small shoulders shake with muffled sobs. But the conversation wasn't forgotten; the words echoed in her mind. The curse. Mephisto. The contract.

She couldn't ignore it. She knew the power burning in her soul. And now, she knew her enemy had already begun his game.

But Naomi Blaze was ready to fight. Her family was at stake, and she wasn't going to surrender.

---

When his mother left the room, Johnny drank a glass of water. His throat burned terribly. He'd had to summon every ounce of his theatrical skills from his past life to fake Zarathos' possession.

He could only hope it worked, and that Naomi could handle it, because there were no other ideas left.