THE LAND OF THE DEEP

Prologue

The boy had wandered all day with the moon dust in his system, the bitter taste of it still clinging to the back of his throat like something that refused to be swallowed or spat out. It was almost past midnight, and the city was not sleeping, just shadows lurking in the background, stretching long beneath flickering streetlights and broken neon signs. The boy walked on, his footsteps uneven but determined, as though something behind him would devour him if he slowed down.

That was what the man in the dark shirt who sold them to him said, his voice smooth and convincing in the dim alley where the exchange was made. He did feel all-powerful. Invincible. Untouchable.

In reality, he was approaching overdose, floating and untethered, his soul about to leave him, hovering just above his skin. But the dust kept him moving along with the little whispers. They slithered into his ears softly at first, then sharper, asking him to, "hurry, hurry and get more."

They did not shout.

They instructed.

A party of five waited for him outside his home, their figures barely visible, blending with the darkness like patient predators. They did not cast shadows. They were shadows.

"You're late!"

One of them said with a sneer, the words curling in the cold night air.

The boy shrugged his comments off and pushed open his gate, the metal creaking loudly in the silence. The same speaker spoke louder.

"Out here we wait. We will linger by your gate till you pay your weight."

Another voice followed.

"Out here we wait. We will seal your fate till you can fully pay."

Five voices.

Five tones.

One hunger.

He shut the gate and walked towards his building. Unaware of the time, it was a miracle he even found his way home, his vision blurred and doubled. The world seemed stretched, as though reality itself was thinning.

His mother spotted him through the window and rushed to let him in. She stared at him for a while, noticing the dilated pupils, the sweat on his brow, the tremble in his fingers, the way his jaw moved as if chewing invisible words.

She then asked, "Is there something wrong, my son? Do you know what time it is?"

He shook his head and pushed past her, going towards his goal, the moon dust. It was some off-white powder, finely crushed and carelessly stashed in his room, along with some cash and jewelry he had stolen, glittering faintly under the dim bulb like small trophies of decay.

The voice of the party in his head screamed now, louder and more urgent.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

His father stood before him, an old soldier, six feet tall and over two hundred and fifty pounds. He was a warrior during his prime, broad-shouldered and commanding, but age had bent his spine and weakened his resolve even more, leaving lines of fatigue carved across his face. His authority had become memory.

He asked the boy again, trying not to let the anger overwhelm him.

"Your mother is speaking to you, boy, are you deaf or what?"

He stopped dead at that statement and looked his father deep in the eyes, his own eyes glassy and restless, something fractured moving behind them.

"I wish I was. I wish I was deaf to the whispers. I am going to get what they requested for."

Requested.

Not wanted.

Not needed.

Requested.

With that, he walked into his room.

It was clear that he was under the control of something that made him forget himself, something that hollowed him out and replaced him with urgency. The party of five did not force him. They lured him.

His mother locked every door, and both parents confiscated the keys and retreated to their bedroom, hoping it was all over, hoping sleep would silence the storm.

But the night had only begun.

The sound of glass shattering disrupted their pillow talk, sharp and violent, and both parents rushed out to see the boy stabbing holes in the flat-screen television, shards scattering across the tiled floor, muttering under his breath.

"Let us out."

"Let us out, or we burn this place down!"

His reflection flickered in broken fragments on the ruined screen. Five distortions. Five faces.

His father ran towards him, and they engaged in physical struggle, heavy bodies colliding, furniture scraping against the floor, breath turning to grunts. His mother watched in horror and disbelief as her son stabbed his father, first on the thigh, then his chest, once, twice, multiple times, each strike more frantic than the last.

He stared at her.

Bloodlust.

Anger.

And something she couldn't recognise.

HATE.

But not only for them.

For himself.

He screamed at her.

"Run!"

His mother hurried to open the door, but it's too late, at least for him.

As she fumbled with the keys to the front door, her hands shaking uncontrollably, he went to the kitchen and reappeared with a bottle of kerosene and baptised himself, the furniture, and his father's unconscious, bleeding body. The smell filled the air instantly, thick and suffocating, like judgment.

The party of five stood around him now, clearer than before.

One at his left shoulder.

One at his right.

One behind his father.

One near the doorway.

And one standing where his reflection should have been.

He pulled a lighter out of his pocket.

He looked at his mother, who was watching him from the doorway, frozen between terror and disbelief, and with a strange smile of triumph, he sparked the lighter and the flames flared, rising hungrily.

It did not hesitate.

Smoke is all the mother sees from the doorway now, hesitant to retreat. He began to scream and cry in remorse, his voice breaking through the roar of fire.

"Help me tell them, mummy, help me tell them I burnt them all. I won, mummy, I won."

Won what?

The fire climbed higher.

The five did not burn.

It was clear they were not of this realm.

She ran out of the building, and the neighbours who heard the chaos began trying to put out the fire, shouting and throwing buckets of water. There's confusion and madness in the mother's midst, but all she can see is the smile and the look in his eyes.

And what did he mean by "I won mummy?"

The sight of the fire.

The smoke she was inhaling.

The heartbreak in her heart.

Everything overwhelming.

She saw herself falling, and then everything turned black.

The party of five watched from their corner, unseen by any human eye. They watched the chaos for a moment, their forms flickering like heat waves rising from ruin.

Satisfied.

Then slowly, they disappeared.