The next few hours are a blur. They pass by in the blink of an eye. I spend them sitting by the fire and watching the flames. Many members of the Haunt come and welcome me to the gang. They pat my back and tell me how excited they are that I’ll be one of them. I just keep watching the flames and waiting.

After dinner Layla announces that it’s time for the baptism. The roar that erupts in response is deafening. It seems that every member of the Haunt wants to witness my transformation. Layla grabs a torch and lights it in the fire. She leads the mob out of the Haunt into the tunnels. I am swept up amongst them. The excitement is palpable. The kids behind are yelling, roaring their exhilaration. It’s deafening. I make my way up to Layla, which is difficult. I keep getting swallowed back into the crowd of kids behind me. They reach out for me, desperate to touch me. They aren’t gentle, grabbing hard enough to bruise. They are screaming, yelling their exhilaration. The roar is deafening.

Layla does nothing to subdue their excitement. “Deeper!” she shouts and thrusts her torch forward. The narrow tunnels echo with the children’s roar of agreement. The torch throws strange shadows and the children become monsters on the walls.

The path Layla is leading us down is completely empty. We’ve deep into the “occasional cave-in” territory. “Shouldn’t we be quieter?” I say to Layla. She doesn’t hear me until I yell the question.

“We’re really deep,” she says. “No one comes around here. We won’t be followed.”

“That’s not what I mean. What about the rock slides?”

She gives me a half grin. “We’ll be fine.”

I want to question her more, but once again I am pulled roughly into the crowd. The tunnels Layla is leading us through are thinner than any I’ve seen. Occasionally we climb over crumbled piles of rock. Layla slides through gaps in the rock that are difficult to see. Despite that no one slows down and the din doesn’t subside. I can’t decide if they sound excited or simply ferocious. It’s definitely not helping me feel calm about this decision. I push myself forward from the grabby crowd and catch up to Layla. “We’re almost there?”

“You’re not wrong. My friends,” she calls out to the group, “we are close!”

I’m swallowed into the crowd. One particular frenzied kid shoves hard and I stumble out of the pack and onto the muddy floor. The group doesn’t seem to notice. They continue to charge forward.

“Vicious, aren’t they?”

I look up to find Araya standing over me. She reaches down to help me up. I let go of her hand quickly; it’s hot enough to burn. “Can’t you control that?”

She grins at me, showing more teeth than most people do. “Yes,” she says simply and starts to walk after the crowd. “We should keep up,” she says. The din of the children is starting to fade. “We could lose ourselves down here.”

I hurry to keep up with her. “I’m surprised they didn’t notice me fall.”

“Really?” Araya says. “They get into this wild state at every baptism. It’s good for them, I suppose, to have something to get excited about down here.”

We are alone for only another minute before we turn a sharp corner and almost run into the group. They have halted at a thin gap in the wall and are slowly entering the passage one by one. It’s amazing that Layla ever discovered this passage. The rock lip covers it almost entirely, rendering it practically invisible in the dark tunnel.

I’m the last to enter the passage. I have to shuffle through sideways, my back hunched. I am both too wide and too tall for this tunnel. I keep scratching my neck on the rough rock and by the end of the tunnel I can feel blood trickling down my back. At the end of the passage is a small cavern. It looks like it had originally been a part of the sewer systems until a wall of rocks blocked the water’s flow. The smell is overpowering. Rotting, salty and thick. A pool of black opaque water, the source of the smell, is set into the center of the floor. The members of the Haunt have filled in on both sides of the pool and are watching Layla as she climbs the wall of rocks. When Layla reaches the highest point, she turns towards the crowd and lifts her torch up high. Everyone falls silent and watches as she throws her torch into the water. It extinguishes with a loud hiss, momentarily lighting up the black pool. Layla’s small body is just visible in the dark.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“It has been many years since I first came here.” Layla’s voice fills the chamber. “I hadn’t lived in the graveyard long, but already it felt more like home than the place where I was born. The world up there no longer wanted me, no longer had use for me. Down here I had a purpose. Down here I was given a gift.” Her voice is filled with adoration, devotion.

I feel transfixed by Layla’s words. They seem to have a power to them. I feel as if I am witnessing something very sacred and special. The term baptism no longer seems like a joke. My heart beats faster.

“Tired and beaten the world had made me,” Layla says, her voice so strong for someone so little. “Before coming down here, it gave me a weapon, the serum. When I found this place I knew exactly what to do. I poured the serum into the water, like it was in the old texts. Now we’ve come here again to witness its power. We’ve come here to ask it to help us once more. Javin! Are you ready to join us? To become a true brother of the Haunt?”

I don’t answer. I don’t trust my voice. Part of me wants to scream no! No, I don't want this. This isn’t a gift. It is something strange and dangerous and will rob me of my full life. I want to say that I wouldn’t be here if I had any other option. I wouldn’t be here if Evan didn’t need me. I want to yell that none of them should be here. That this is all a mistake. A terrible, wrong, horrible mistake.

Instead I bite my tongue and make my way to the front of the crowd. Hands reach out to touch me. This time they are gentle, encouraging. Perhaps they know, I find myself thinking, perhaps they know this isn’t a gift. Perhaps they can’t admit it out loud because the truth is just too terrible. I reach the rocks and begin to climb. When I near the top, Layla reaches out and grabs my hand. I stand next to her and she thrusts my hand into the air.

“We are the forgotten!” She shouts. The kids begin to yell their agreement, holler in consent. “We are the dead!”

I can almost feel the excitement around me. It doesn’t feel as fake as I had expected. Standing here in front of this pack of cheering children, I feel like I belong. My eyes are adjusting to the dark. I can see the crowd watching me hungrily. In that moment I realize why the Haunt has that name. When I first came here I thought they named themselves because they are ghosts of their former selves, shells, pale shadows that only mimicked living life. Now I see how powerful they are and I know that I had it wrong. They aren’t shells or shadows. They are ghosts that haunt and hanger. They force the world to remember things most would rather forget. And I am one of them.

“We are the ghosts that haunt this city!” Layla continues. “Javin, my brother, will you join us? Will you become a member of the Haunt? Become one of the forceful, the powerful?”

This time I trust my voice. “Yes,” I say simply.

And that is enough.

Layla smiles at me widely, showing her teeth, almost viciously. Then she lets go of my hand and pushes me off the rock.

My mouth is open when I hit the water. I plummet into the black and down to the bottom. For a moment I think that the pool is bottomless, that I’ve journeyed into some strange new world. Then my feet hit rock. It is at the moment that the water begins to burn. It feels like I am surrounded by thousands of tiny fish that are nipping at me. The burning turns to pain. My mouth is closed, but I feel the water inside me, choking me. My eyes begin to burn. My throat is stinging. It is moving through me. The water seems to grow thicker. As I try to make my way to the surface it feels like I’m swimming in molasses. It sticks to my skin, thick and burning. It is everywhere, on every inch of me. Slime coats my body, my insides. I struggle to the top, my hands pushing the thick liquid out of the way. The water doesn’t want to let me go. It holds onto me. I swim harder, kicking the sludge, pushing it back down. My mind is burning. I need air. Unable to fight it any long, my mouth opens. I can feel the sludge pour into me, coating my tongue, my throat. The pain is too much. Blinding. Bewildering. I desperately fight to the surface.

My hands break through the water first and I’m not sure I’ll make it. The water is still pulling me down. It has my legs, my body. It feels like hot tar tightening and contracting. Something new is touching me, pulling me up from the water. I realize that several pairs of hands are lifting me. As soon as my feet leave the pool, the biting pain vanishes. I lie on the ground gasping for air. I feel like a puddle, my body devoid of bones. I cough up a ball of black goo. Then I can breathe. Sweet, life sustaining air. I look up when someone touches my arm. Layla is above me. She is saying something, her mouth is moving, but I can’t hear it. The crowd around her is silently screaming, their mouths open. They are jumping up and down. I look down at my own body. It is coated in the black slime. I run my hands down my arms, taking off some of the goo. It is a relief to feel my skin intact underneath. I was sure it had been burned away. I rub the slime off my face, the taste in my mouth. My ears are filled with the slime. I hit the side of my head and with a loud squelch a wad of black goo falls from my ear. Now I can hear the crowd roaring.

“Are you alright?” Layla asks. She looks nervous.

I open my mouth to speak and a wave of nausea overtakes me. I throw up. Then I throw up again. My body rids itself of any last vestiges of the black, tar water. I can feel it leaving my body, even though my sweat. “I’m alive,” I tell Layla, panting.

“Well I can see that,” she says.

I grin at her sloppily and then I pass out.