Cite hesitated, her eyes still trained on the silhouette of the girl as she disappeared into the fog. This has got to be a trap, she thought. A creepy little girl lures the unsuspecting heroine into the graveyard, and then… who knows what? Yeah, seen it too many times. Definitely a trap. But Cite knew full well this wasn’t a movie. This was really happening, and as the paranormal investigator she proclaimed herself to be, she had to make a choice.

  She let her backpack slide off her shoulder and began unzipping it. If something supernatural was happening here, she was going to get it on film. She slowly pulled out her camera, pointed it at herself and hit record. “Guys…” she said to her imaginary audience, “this might just be the stupidest thing I ever do. So in case this doesn’t go well, uh… thanks for supporting me, and tell Jenn this is all her fault.”

  Cite turned the camera back around, took a deep breath, and without another thought, headed for the graveyard. She continued to follow the sound of the girl’s voice, which had now changed from laughter to humming an unfamiliar tune. It wasn’t long before Cite came upon a tombstone, and as more of them were uncovered one by one through the mist, she felt a shiver up her spine. I must really be crazy.

  She kept the camera rolling, letting it pan across the area until catching movement again; the bobbing of a ponytail in the distance. Gotcha. The girl wasn’t that far away, but Cite didn’t want to lose sight of her again. She called after her. “Hey kid! Who are you, where are you leading me?” The autumn leaves crunched under her feet as she quickened her pace, trying to avoid tripping over any stones in the process. She was approaching the spot where she had seen the girl when the sudden creaking of a door made her stop. Did she enter a building? Cite wondered, steadily pressing on ahead. But there aren’t any-

  She couldn’t even finish her thought. Her eyes darted upward as the fog parted in front of her, revealing the black iron door of a large mausoleum. She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to make of this. No way. No way did a child just go in there. I don’t even wanna go in there! Cite silently protested, but her curiosity was still stronger than her caution. She walked up to the door and shoved; it was heavy, though not as much as she had expected. On the other side was a stone staircase leading down into the ground. "Little girl? Are you down there?" Her voice echoed faintly down the steps. No response. Why would she have come in here anyway?

  Only one way to find out. Cite braced herself and began to carefully descend the stairs. The humming she heard earlier had stopped entirely, the eerie quiet amplifying the sound of every footstep. When she finally reached the bottom, she found yet another door, this one wooden with strange runes carved into it. She gently pushed, peeking inside. The room beyond was well-lit, but cluttered and chaotic. Shelves overflowed with odd knickknacks, dusty tomes, and jars containing unknown substances. Magical artifacts lay scattered across tables, covered in cobwebs and glowing with enchantments. What kind of crypt was this?

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  “Hello?” Cite called out once more as she entered the room. "Is anyone here?" She briefly glanced down to make sure the recording was still going when she heard a rustling sound in the corner. “Hello?!” she said louder, swinging the camera around. “Listen, I didn't mean to disturb your resting place I just-”

  Before she could finish her sentence, she was met with a sight that made her freeze in terror. There, hovering just inches from her face, was the ghostly form of Skrapwerk. “Ugh, technology," he muttered, snatching the camera from her hands. He held it up, inspecting it with a look of disgust. "A plague upon true magic."

  As he floated there, rambling on about his hatred for such devices, Cite’s mind raced. That’s a ghost. An actual ghost is in front of me. What am I supposed to do? She remained rooted to the spot, completely lost for words. She’d dreamed of this moment, of finding proof of the paranormal, but now that she actually had, well… it was a different story. This thing wasn’t alive, didn’t even look human, and yet it was yapping about technology like an out-of-touch grandpa.

  After a while, Skrapwerk seemed to realize he’d been talking to himself. "Oh, where are my manners?" he said, tossing the camera aside. He tipped his top hat and bowed with a flourish. "I am V.K. Skrapwerk. Welcome to The Grave."

  There was a long pause. The high schooler just stood there wide-eyed, the reality of a ghost speaking directly to her sinking in. Finally, she inhaled sharply, and after holding it for a beat, let out a horrified scream.

  Skrapwerk sighed, clearly annoyed but expecting this reaction. "Why do we need a human to carry out our plans?” He asked himself, rubbing his forehead. “They're so noisy."

  “Wh-what?” She stopped screaming just long enough to hear what he had said. "What do you mean ‘plans’?? What do you want from me?!" she demanded, trying to steady her voice despite the lingering shock.

  Before Skrapwerk could answer, the little girl stepped out from behind Cite, startling her even more. "That's simple,” she said, green eyes gleaming. “We want your help."

  Cite pointed at her, struggling to catch her breath from all the surprises. “You!” she shouted. “Why did you lead me here, are you one of them?!”

  “Depends what you mean by ‘them’,” said a third voice from behind Skrapwerk. Body still trembling, Cite craned her neck over to see where it came from. Leaning over the side of a large fishbowl was Kryll. “Yo,” he greeted her with a wave.

  This was too much. Cite stumbled back against the wall and sank to the floor, several thoughts still swirling in her head. The girl is a ghost. There's a weird magic shop underneath the cemetery. The fish talks. She sat there for a while, staring into space and utterly confused. Tilting her head upward, she could see Kryll was now hovering over her as well. And he floats too I guess.

  “You sure this is the right human?” Skrapwerk’s assistant whispered to him.

  The shopkeeper shrugged. “How should I know? Messy hair, strange clothing… she looks no different than the lot of them.” They both turned to the little girl, who just smiled and nodded. “But apparently, it is.”

  Suddenly, the air shifted. A blue light filled the room, and Almah once again materialized in the looking glass. "Cite Hafrey," she said, her tone soothing but just powerful enough to snap Cite out of her daze. "Rest assured we mean you no harm. But my daughter is correct… we do need your help.”