"What are terrors?" Niram asked.

Papa Chuqs sighed. He was a portly man with a few hairs that were had been slicked backwards. Taking him fully, one would have mistaken him for a noble or something, which was correct, because Chuqs had been one when he'd been alive.

Having been a visiting noble who'd been unfortunate to die in this town, about six or seven hundred years ago, the man's body hadn't been lucky to survive the ordeal of his death, which had then led to his ghost been stuck in this place.

Usually, it took ghosts a few hundred years or so before they could be able to escape their place or death and move to other graveyards in more likeable locations. So by the time the man had gotten over his former status and began treating everyone with respect, he'd grown attached to the place to simply up and leave.

"You know how there are different types of Ghosts?" The man said, and when Niram and Kiesh nodded, he continued. "We have the normals, like the ones gathered here. We also have the Mischiefs, a little like us but with a few loose screws in their ghostly brains." He looked around, getting a few nods from the others gathered around. "And then we have the terrors.

"Terrors are people who had lived on the bad side of civilization when they'd been alive. Serial killers, murderers, thieves, bandits, and so on. You get what I mean? The difference between them and the murderers living among us is that they died the same way they lived."

"They were all killed," Kiesh concluded.

"Yes," Mama Allie said. She was just like Mama Simbi, a motherly-looking woman who had been a trader when she'd been alive. She'd been unfortunate to have gotten robbed by a violent man who had no qualms with murdering alongside robbery. "You need to understand that all terrors died a very violent death. No peaceful death in the bed or death as simple as falling and breaking a neck. They all either died by the guillotine or were killed by their kind. I know of one who was burned alive while in a bowl of flesh-peeling acid." She sighed. "Things like that are sure to follow someone, even into the afterlife, twisting them into something more unnatural, even to people like us."

"I guess we can't simply persuade it to go to the underworld, then," Kiesh said, which made Papa Yemir snort with a barking laugh. "How do we end it, then?"

"You can always kill it the same way it died." Yemir shrugged, which made Niram frown.

"Is that possible? I mean, I didn't know ghosts could be killed."

"We cannot be killed because we're already dead," Mama Simbi smiled. "But the same thing that made the terrors more powerful beyond the normal also made a hole in their immortality. While we can't be killed, they can. You just have to find out how they died."

"If we're invulnerable, why did you say they were also bad for ghosts." Kiesh looked at Papa Yemir.

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The man sighed. "Because, while we can't be killed, our essence can be consumed... Our spirit form. And once that happens... Well, there are fates worse than death."

A ripple seemed to spread throughout the gathering at those words, fear oozing off it.

"Okay," Niram said. "Kiesh and I will pay a visit to the mayor to take a look at the town's death log."

"Good," Mama Simbi nodded. "In the meantime, I'll see if I can find any ghost willing and able to fight that thing."

Niram nodded, he didn't argue against the idea. After all, this was something he knew with certainty he couldn't do on his own.

He was just about to leave when something crossed his mind.

"Hey, why didn't the terror kill Myckie? They were both in the house together."

Papa Yemir seemed to grimace. "Myckie was an old soul... A withering one. Prideful predators do not feed on rotten flesh."

Niram nodded, taking in the unworded context. And together, he and Kiesh made their way to the mayor's office.

***

"Ahh, Niram! What brings you here so early?!" The mayor, Mr. Olah, smiled as he opened the door to his home, which also served as his office. "You aren't finished with your tasks, are you?"

The house was an ancient two-story building —half as old as the haunted house a few blocks over—which stood in the center of the town. Unlike its aged sibling, which was all ruins and scant repairs, this one was basically new, in Niram's opinion — at least as new as a house could look in a dump like this. The generations of leaders who'd occupied the place since its beginning had taken good care to keep it in good condition, both for themselves and their unlucky descendants.

The Mayor, Mr. Olah, or as he was popularly called, Mr Merry, from his rare exuberance in this cesspool of misery.

He was liked by almost everyone, which was surprising given the constant state of wretchedness almost every human in this town seemed to be in. But what truly endeared him to Niram was that he was also the only human who didn't treat him like he was some sort of terrifying being.

"I'm not, sir," Niram replied. "I came because there's a problem with the last place that was listed. The haunted house."

Seeing Niram's expression, Mr. Olah's smile slowly died down, replaced with an expression of worry and fear.

"Come in, come in," he gestured in, opening the door wider. "Take a seat and tell me everything."

Niram nodded and then stepped into the coziest abode he'd ever seen in the town. The sitting room was a spacious room cluttered with dozens of books lying all about on the floor and the tables. Two long, brown sofas were sat facing each other, with a single sitter placed just close to the window, just in the middle of the two long sofas. Niram took his seat on one of them, an invisible Kiesh coming to hover just beside him.

A burning candle sitting right in the middle of a supernatural symbol went off, and Mr. Olah chucked. "I see your ghost friend is still with you?"

"Hello, Mr. Olah!" Kiesh greeted, projecting his voice loud enough to be heard by the man.

Mr Olah couldn't see Kiesh, but he'd probably hazarded a guess as to where the ghost might be located, and then he waved. "Hello, Kiesh! How're you doing?"

"I'll be fine, if I manage to survive our latest problem."

That brought the man's mood down again, "Okay, tell me what happened."

Niram shook his head. "There's nothing much to know, sir. We encountered some kind of ghost we hadn't met before...one that's called a terror. We've sought advice from the old ones at the graveyard and they directed us to you to look into the death log of this town."

The man frowned. "Why?"

"Apparently, Terrors are created from criminals who died the same way they lived. So, probably executions or any kind of reports you have on notable criminals who were killed gruesomely."

"And the children?" The man's piercing black eyes stared into Niram's blue. "You haven't said anything about the missing children."

Niram swallowed. "We don't know yet. But sir, as it stands, things are looking grim."