The apparition is in fact a man, but not Daniel. It’s his brother William (not previously introduced in the show), and he lures Regina into a trap so as to avenge his brother’s death. As informed readers will know, Regina’s mother Cora murdered Daniel, so his death was not her fault; rather it sparked her own quest of vengeance on Snow White. To find out that a living relation of Daniel’s blames her for his demise is a surprising turn for her and the reader.
At first glance, the story may appear to end on a pointless note since, after this encounter, Regina is as determined as ever to hunt down Snow. It’s a flaw in the story that the events don’t really affect Regina. They do, however, impact the reader once he or she starts peeling back the layers. Regina and William are both compensating for their inability to save Daniel. And they share something else in common—neither of them blame Cora. For Regina, her love for her mother and being a victim of her mother’s abuse have warped her ability to deal with the anger and grief. When she found out Snow had spilled the secret that she and Daniel were going to elope, Regina found a suitable target for her pent-up feelings. For William, his misdirected vengeance isn’t so much the result of an unhealthy personal relationship, but of the social structure established between the peasants and nobles in the Enchanted Forest.
As far as William knows (and considering he’s been out in the world seeking his fortune for years, he’s probably experienced on the matter), the nobles see the peasants as disposal. This idea is supported in other instances throughout canon, but the way his feelings reflect this class dysfunction is poignant. He can no more point the finger at Cora and hope to find justice than Regina can. Besides having magic, Cora belongs to the upper class, and her offense against an insignificant stable boy would never be charged. To William, Cora wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary; she was following society’s rules. In the end, Regina was responsible for luring his brother into defying those rules and getting himself killed, making her a more accessible culprit.
The most chilling theme the story explores can leave the reader cold toward Regina—and that’s the point. She lacks self-awareness; she sympathizes with William, but she cannot make the connection between his misplaced anger toward her and her misplaced rage at Snow White. In one panel where William challenges Regina’s belief that she and Daniel would’ve lived a happy life had they successfully escaped Cora, Regina looks doubtful of her own innocence. It suggests that she may feel guilt, after all, but if she does, she refuses to take it without sharing some of the fault. If she must be blamed for Daniel’s fate, so is Snow White. It’s a defense mechanism, really, in reaction to all the pain she’s suffered at Cora’s hands. She doesn’t want to be “at fault” any more. She doesn’t want to see her own failure because her mother constantly highlighted those failures in a twisted desire to give Regina a better life, to make her acceptable to noble society.
Like any good Gothic story, “Ghosts” gives the reader room to unpack characters and their actions while giving just enough details that avoid spelling out everything. There are no literal ghosts, but as in the film Crimson Peak, ghosts are a metaphor for the past—the guilt and pain that haunts us. For fans of Regina as both victim and villain, and readers just looking for a good tale to sink their teeth into, it’s a worthwhile read.
Rating: 3.5/5
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