Oh gosh! How time flies! It's been so long! I really need to get this together, don't I?

Well, without further ado, here's the next chapter

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It was time.

Gilan had tried to delay this moment as long as possible—a fact that he hadn't hid as well as he thought. Halt was fully aware of his apprentice's fear, but he found it more than a little amusing, so he was content with letting Gilan suffer. It was payback for all the times Gilan had completely ruined his day.

"You know, you really should leave now." Halt commented as Gilan sharpened his sword for what seemed like the thousandth time, then couldn't resist adding his next comment. "As far as I've heard, swords aren't much use against ghosts. Apparitions have no solid structure."

He watched Gilan attempt to suppress a groan which came out as more of a strangled squawk. "Halt…if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were doing all of this simply for the fun of it."

Halt hid a smile at how close his young companion had come to the truth. He raised an eyebrow in mock shock. "Me? Doing something for "the fun of it"? I don't think that is possible!"

"That is why I said 'if I didn't know any better', Halt."

"But that's the shocking part. You really don't know any better!"

Gilan gave his mentor a withering look. It seemed like he was having way too much fun with this. He was going to get back at Halt for this…

'If you ever come back.' A small voice in his head said, but Gilan pushed that thought away. He was being ridiculous, now! Everyone knew that there was no such thing as ghosts!

'Or are there…' That annoying little voice was coming back again. It wasn't doing anything to help his self-esteem. In fact, it was hurting it…badly.

"Well, now, you don't have all day!" Halt's voice cut into his reverie. "Or all night, I should say. It is almost midnight, and you should probably get there as early as possible so you can get comfortable with your little…ah, friends. Talk to them about not murdering you horribly and all that."

Gilan didn't know what was worse—Halt's annoying comments or the prospect of going to the graveyard. He straightened out his cloak, sheathed his sword, made sure his belt was tight, and then walked towards the door, making his decision. "Bye Halt. See you later!"

"If you ever come back, that is." Halt replied, knowing he was echoing the boy's own thoughts.

Gilan decided to make no reply to this comment. He knew this could go on until it really was midnight. Instead, he strode out the door, keeping up the illusion of confidence, until he was sure he was out of sight of the cabin. Then, his pace slowed to more of a reluctant shuffle.

I really don't want to do this. Gilan thought, with a sigh. But I have no choice. I can't afford to back out of this and act like a chicken. If Halt really told Father, it would be horrible!

But would it really be worse than dying…or worse? Gilan shook his head, forcibly. This argument with himself was pointless. It would not help anything, and it certainly wasn't making the time pass by faster, either.

As the day had progressed, turning into night, the weather had turned stormy. A light rain had fallen for a few hours, enough to make the ground muddy. Now, however, the wind tore through the tree branches, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

Just my luck. Gilan thought, sullenly, as he raised his boot to clear off the mud clinging to it. He trudged through the uneven terrain, finally making his way to the rows of gray tombstones. With the moonlight blocked by storm clouds, it looked even darker than on an ordinary night. He stepped inside, cautiously, ears attuned to even the slightest noise, and proceeded at a pace which ordinarily would have bored him.

Boredom was the last thing on his mind right now, however. A branch creaked next to him—but was it really just a tree? Was that howling wind caused by a ghost? The noise of thunder, getting closer and closer, could just as easily be an army of spirits gathering to capture him. All the scoffing that he had done in Halt's cabin, in the light of day, seemed be a distant memory. In this forsaken graveyard, alone with the dead, it was easy to imagine that ghosts were real.

Gilan somehow made it the gravestone in the very center of this horrible place. He was already quite frightened, but he had made it this far. All he had to do now was wai—

"Gilaaaaan…" A voice whispered, suddenly. He started, then shook his head. It was just the wind. There was only silence. He must have just imagined it.

"Gilaaan…why don't you join us?" There it was, again! The voice, so quiet that it seemed to be coming from inside his head, yet he knew something else was making it. "We're oh, so lonely, and we'd love to have a young one like you. Come, it will be fun!"

"NO!" Gilan yelled, suddenly, his voice sounding way too loud in the surroundings. "I'm not afraid of you! Go away!"

Silence fell again, but suddenly, a brilliant flash of lightning nearly blinded him. In the instant that the world was lit up, he saw a white figure beckoning him, but it was gone as quickly as it came. Then, the loud clap of thunder set his ears ringing, and in that instant he wanted nothing more than for this whole thing to be over.

Then, it started to rain. But this wasn't a light rain. It was torrential downpour. Every minute seemed like an hour, as he was now soaking wet and kept seeing the white figure. It would dart between gravestones, then disappear into the darkness. But it always came back, and it always seemed to want Gilan to follow it. But he was going nowhere. He knew he just had to complete his task, and then he could return to the cabin. He wasn't about to follow some ghost.

After what seemed like years, Gilan finally figured that midnight had passed. Even if it hadn't, he knew that Halt was probably sitting warm in the cabin. A few minutes wouldn't matter to him. A rueful glance crossed his face. He was definitely going to get back at his mentor for this ordeal.

With these thoughts in mind, Gilan went to stab his sword into the ground—and nearly dropped it as he heard the voice again.

"You have not listened to the summons…Gilaaaan. You have angered our ruler, you have slighted his authority! Now you can never leave!"

The rustling in the trees grew louder, the lightning more bright, and the white figure appeared again, but much closer than it ever had been before. Gilan, terrified by the whole experience, stabbed his sword into the ground, and began to run.

Only, he couldn't.

It was as if hands were tightening around his neck. He couldn't breathe, and he couldn't get away, either.

"Halt!" He cried out, desperately. "Halt, help! They're going to kill me!"

Air was being driven out of his lungs, as the grip grew tighter and adrenaline forced him to breathe harder. Suddenly, he tripped, and hit his head on a gravestone.

And it all went black.

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Oooh…poor Gilan. I wonder what happened to him. Don't worry, he isn't dead, though. I'll try to write the last bit soon!