《White Orchids {Book 1 COMPLETED}》


 Prologue

    Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier to handle death if they prepare you, tell you what kind of feelings you''ll have, that it''s hard to understand and a part of you won''t accept it. You know it happened and in some cases you might even have seen it. It feels like the person is still alive, no matter how many times you tell yourself they are dead.


    I didn''t cry. I don''t know why. I was sad, and I''m still sad. But I couldn''t cry. When they took me into the room, and when I saw him, my eyes were dry. Like it wasn''t my dad who laid lifeless in the hospital bed.


    It was too late. I didn''t see him die, and I wasn''t there before he died. I walked into a room with a corpse, that was all he was at that time. Whatever he had been before left him the moment he was declared dead.


    If death was a feeling, then I felt it. I remember the room better than how my dad looked like. The yellow wallpaper, the painting of the sea. That was what I focused on. Because it was easier to stare at that than at my dad''s lifeless body.


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    He looks peaceful, like he''s sleeping. This will be the last time I see him. Close enough to touch, to feel. Soon they''ll lower him down underneath the earth, eventually he won''t look like I remember him.


    I caress his cheek - it''s cold. He used to have warm skin. It feels foreign, like it''s not my father that lays in that coffin. Is that why I can''t cry?


    I carefully place the orchid on his chest, it''s white, exactly the way he liked them. I keep my fingers towards his cheek for a little longer, and after a while I move my hand and head back to my mom and sister. Both of them are holding a crumpled napkin that they occasionally dab near the eyes. I''m jealous, I wish I could also cry.


    I sit down next to them; mom takes one of my hands and squeezes. She''s able to force a smile with wet eyes, it looks painful on her. She gazes out over the coffin when my paternal grandfather lays a bouquet on father''s chest.


    "You chose the right flowers for him," she says with a shivering voice. "He always loved orchids."

 Chapter 1

    The rain pours down. Every raindrop that hits Emma''s umbrella makes a loud and sharp sound. It''s hard to focus, like it always is every time we visit the grave. Every time I''m here I have nothing to say. It feels like I''m talking to a stone and the few words I have ends up hollow and detached. I don''t believe in heaven, in some paradise after death. When you''re dead you''re dead. You don''t exist anymore ¨C dad doesn''t exist anymore.


    Yet here I sit crouched down in front of the grave, my hand is caressing the cold and wet stone and I''m trying to find something else than the empty, hollow words I have to say.


    My hair is wet, it sticks uncomfortably to my cheek and the rain forces itself underneath my thin spring jacket.


    Emma takes a step closer and moves the umbrella so it protects me from the rain. It''s too late, it''s already gotten through my spring jacket and camisole, and is sticking to my back.


    "Thank you," I mumble and I try to sound sad or troubled.


    It''s not like I''m not feeling any sorrow over my father''s passing, I do. But I can''t connect this stone with him. I can feel sorrow from photographs and videos, this makes me feel guilty that I don''t feel anything. I''m not like Emma who could stay here for hours if she could.


    I caress the cold stone one last time before I get up, I have an uncomfortable feeling, because I haven''t said anything, just like how it always is. Not that I see a point with it when I believe it won''t reach him.


    The psychologist I had the first year after my dad''s death told me that I didn''t need to believe that my words reached him, but that it could be a beautiful thought. That I needed to say it, whether it reached my dad or not. I was never able to fully do it, it felt unnatural.


    I know my dad would laugh if he saw me now. That I''m trying to feel something, struggling to cry so that I can seem like the others. He wouldn''t care, he would have told me that I have the right to handle his death in my own way. "There is no right way to grieve," he''d told me a few months before his death. He knew I would question myself, even four years later.


    "Do you want to say something?" I ask Emma.


    "I already have."


    It looks like she''s somewhere else, not in the middle of a Swedish graveyard a rainy day. Her eyes are empty, no smile but she doesn''t seem sad either.


    Emma had always been the one who took dad''s death the worst. I could keep on living, I finished high school and continued to work afterwards. I could make friends and laugh.


    Emma couldn''t. She had never been the most social of us, if anything she was anti-social already as a child. She kept to herself and would rather read a book or look at a movie instead of hanging out with friends. When dad died from cancer, she couldn''t handle it. It''s been years since he died, and she still won''t leave her apartment in G?vle unless she has to. I don''t think she has visited his grave for years even though she clearly wants to.


    "We shouldn''t let mom and Anders wait for us," I say and link my arm with hers.


    All that she gives as an answer is a short, absent nod. I lead her out of the graveyard and into the parking lot where mom and Anders are waiting.


    ***


    We''re staying in the same room ¨C the guestroom in mom''s and Anders'' new house. There are two single beds, both of them have the same white bedding with flower motives. They are small, yellow flowers, so small that you can''t see what they are when you come into the room. Furthest in there is a big wardrobe next to a window and on the other side there is a large floor mirror. Emma is standing in front of it in her pajamas. She''s matching the bedding, just like them, the pajama has floral patterns. They are slightly larger and have different colors. It doesn''t fit. The pajamas look cute and it radiates something beautiful and positive. Emma''s facial expressions is something completely different. The eyes are red, and the face is paler than it was a year ago, she looks sick. The curly hair is put in a low ponytail, a few strands of hair is hanging down from the forehead. It''s terrifying to see those empty brown eyes staring into the mirror. The mouth is slightly open, and the round eyes look narrower, the eyebrows are relaxed ¨C tired.


    I sit on one of the beds ¨C the one closest to the door ¨C with my legs crossed.


    "What are you doing?" I ask.


    I have to choose my words carefully, I don''t want her to feel worse.


    "Looking."


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    "I can see that... I meant..."


    I stop when she stares at me with a painful expression over her entire face.


    "I look like dad."


    She''s right. She looks like dad; she has always looked like him. When she was younger she often heard how alike they were and she had always been proud over it, but now it has to feel more like a curse.


    This conversation is the last one I''d like to have. I can''t lie, she wouldn see right through me. I straighten myself and choses my next words carefully.


    "Yes, you''re very alike."


    "You look more like mom," she says and turns back to the mirror like she was some sort of puppet.


    "I have dad''s green eyes," I try.


    "And yet I look more like dad," she adds flatly. "Same face, same hair. The only thing I have from mom is her eyes, everything else is dad. It''s like I see him. In the mirror."


    "Do you do this often?"


    This can''t be healthy.


    "No, not really. I don''t like mirrors."


    "Maybe you shouldn''t do it at all. Maybe we can play cards or something? Like we did when we were kids. Mom said she had a card deck in the kitchen."


    She sits down in the bed and pulls the cover up. "I rather sleep."


    "Are you sure?" I ask.


    She lays down. "Yes, I want to sleep. It''s been a long day."


    I put my phone on the bedside table and lay down in the bed. Sometimes I wonder what she''s thinking or planning. I''m not sure I want to know. There are times when I think it''s important to know, but I don''t think I would be able to handle it. I''ve seen it before. Not with her, but with others.


    And it never ends well.


    I pull the cover over me and turn off the lamp on the bedside table. I don''t know how to handle this. I know I need to find a solution or something ¨C anything ¨C before it gets worse.


    I bite the inside of my lower lip when I stare into the darkness.


    "Emma," I say.


    I can hear something moving.


    "Yes?"


    "Promise to tell me if you need help."


    I''m trying to see the shape of her in the darkness.


    "Emma...?"


    "I don''t need any help."


    My mouth feels dry. "I know, and if you need help you know that I''m here."


    "I know, you always are."


    There''s no appreciation in her voice. I can''t answer, so I try to sleep. Usually, I can turn off the worrying. This time it''s not possible. It grows and grows, eventually it will spill over.


    I lay in my bed for what feels like an eternity, I don''t know how long. An hour or two, maybe three. I''ve gotten used to the darkness; I can see the shape of the furniture. I''m thinking, looking for a solution, what I can do for her, but I can''t figure something out. A part of me thinks it''s going to solve itself. It''s nothing more than a hopeless wish. Emma would never accept help, she would rather drown in her own sorrow and despair.


    My mouth it uncomfortably dry, I force myself to sit up. Emma is barely moving, she doesn''t look as tense as she has looked throughout the day. If I focus I can hear her breathing deeply and slowly. She''s sleeping.


    I carefully get up from my bed and sneak as quietly as I can towards the door. I don''t want to wake her. The only time she looks peaceful is when she''s sleeping, that''s when I see a part of her I haven''t seen in a long time. It''s a depressing thought, one that makes it feel like I have a lump in my throat. I force the thought away and I walk out into the small hallway. After I carefully close the door, I continue down to quench my thirst.


    The kitchen is small and is barely big enough to fit a round table with four chairs, since the kitchen counters, the oven and the refrigerator takes most of the space of the kitchen. I take a glass from the dish rack and fill it with tap water. My mouth and throat are unpleasantly dry, and my thoughts are wild and confusing. I can''t stick to one of them, instead I jump back and forth on ideas I have. No matter how many thoughts I have, I never come up with anything that can help. Maybe I''m pondering too much, but I can''t stop.


    I take a sip from the cold water. It tastes better than Gothenburg''s tap water that I''ve gotten used to.


    Light fills the room and I squint at mom that stands in the door opening. Her eyes are thin and tense from the sudden light. The straight hair is slightly tangled and unkept. She has a robe tightly tied around her waist.


    "Jonna?" she mumbles.


    I raise the glass with water. "I was thirsty."


    "Ah, well... I thought I heard something. Make sure you don''t wake Emma, it looked like she needed to sleep," she says with a small smile. "Sleep tight, Jonna."


    I put down the glass on the kitchen counter. "Mom, wait... Emma... I don''t know what to do."


    The words come quickly out of me, they are desperate and pleading. I feel like a little girl when I hear how fragile my voice sounds.


    "I know," she whispers.


    I follow her with my gaze until she sits down at one of the chairs. She places her clasped hands on the table.


    For a while I wondered if she saw how bad it was with Emma, if she thought it was easier to pretend she didn''t notice it. Now when she''s sitting in the kitchen and staring into the wall I know that she is aware.


    "I know," she repeats.


    I lean towards the kitchen counter.


    "I''ve known it for a while now. I''ve asked her to talk with a psychologist, therapist, or anything. But she refuses. You know how she is. She''s always saying that she doesn''t need to talk to anyone, that she''s alright... that she doesn''t need any help."


    "She''s not."


    Mom''s brown eyes are wet, but I don''t see any tears yet. "I know. I''ve even talked to the hospital."


    "What did they say?"


    She shakes her head. "You know how they are. As long as she hasn''t done anything they don''t want to take her in. But if she does something..." She swallows and clenches her jaw. "Then it might be too late."


    I can''t muster up the courage to say something. The only sound that fills the room is from the fridge and freezer.


    "I''m sorry... You don''t need to hear that from your own mother. I shouldn''t take out my worries out on you."


    "You''re not taking anything out on me," I remind her. "I was the one who brought it up."


    I have to stop myself, so I don''t also say at least not this time. Neither of us needs that right now.


    "And all it caused was that you worried even more about this." She shakes her head again. "No, the most important thing is that we are there for Emma, there is no point in thinking of the absolute worst."


    Mom gets up from the chair and crosses her arms, I see the discomfort in her face, and the shame that she has shown me this side of her. I want to ask her to not feel guilty or shameful over what we talked about. It makes me feel less alone. But I can''t find the right words.


    "Drink your water and then go to bed. It''s going to be a long day tomorrow," she says, her voice doesn''t quite hold.

 Chapter 2 (part 1)

    It''s not raining this morning. The sun is shining and I can''t see a single cloud on the sky, it''s almost as hot as a mid-summer day even though it''s late April.


    Emma is in the driver''s seat and is driving us to one of the places we used to visit when we were little. It was one of the promises I made with her when I convinced her to come here. She wanted to visit the places dad often took us when we were young.


    I lean my head against the car window and look out at the fields at the side of the road. I live outside of central Gothenburg and have not realized how much I miss this kind of view. It''s also been some time since I was in a car. I don''t have a license and most of the time I take the tramcar if I need to be somewhere.


    For the first time in a long time Emma is in a good mood. She''s even smiling. It''s a timid one, like she''s afraid that if she smiles too much it will be taken away from her. But this smile is a real one, small wrinkles are by the edges of her eyes.


    She drives onto the same gravel road dad used drive on. It''s been almost ten years since I saw this road, but I recognize it. The last few years with dad we stopped going to the forest together, we were too old to play around trees.


    It looks the same, if a little smaller. When I was little, I always saw this forest as a big magical world, mostly thanks to my dad''s rich imagination. He used to say he was a wizard from a forgotten, beautiful world of darkness. At night portals opened and giants and trolls stepped out to wreak havoc on us humans. He fought against them at night, and since they couldn''t stand sunlight, they became trees and stones once daylight touched their skin. Dad used to lead us through the forest and tell us about his adventure fighting the trolls and giants. He had even carved some faces into some of the trees.


    "It looks smaller than I remember," I mumble towards the car window.


    "It''s looks the same to me."


    She''s talking in her normal tone, the one that''s a little darker. It''s been a while since I heard it. It sounds more confident, happier. I don''t have to look at her to know that she''s smiling.


    Emma knows exactly where we''re headed, what roads she needs to drive onto until we reach the same parking lot that dad always stopped at. She also knows what paths to take throughout the forest on foot once we leave the car. I don''t remember the way, even though I recognize it more the further in we get. Neither I nor Emma have been here for years, but for Emma it''s like she never left the forest, she knows every little detail.


    "Over there," she says and steps over a log by the edge of the overgrown grass.


    I follow reluctantly and the small fir-trees and the top of the overgrown grass touches my arms. We continue forward to a gnarled and old tree. There is something charming and familiar with it, but it''s when I see the old face on the other side that I recognize it.


    "Oh, the troll king," I say.


    I turn towards the round stone next to it. Moss is growing upon it, it looks like a green mantle over a large troll.


    "And its general," I chuckle.


    "Yes," Emma mumbles and touches the tree''s face gently. "Do you think it was dad who carved it?"


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    I study the face. The nose is overly big, exactly like the typical Scandinavian trolls my dad used to carve. We had never seen him create faces in the forest, but he often carved in wood and created small animals and trolls at home. That''s why it wasn''t hard to figure out that he had created most ¨C if not all ¨C of the faces in the forest.


    I shrug. "Probably."


    "He did a lot for us," she says with a smile, it dies out as quickly as it came.


    "It looks like you want to say something," I say carefully while I stroke my fingers over the troll''s nose.


    She holds her arms around her. "Do you remember that I used to see things when I was little?"


    I sigh and think about what words I should say, they come out a bit harder than I had planned. "I remember you thought you saw things."


    "I did see things. I know I did."


    "You were a child, Emma. Most kids say they see things when they don''t. Just like when we thought these stones and trees were actually trolls and giants that father fought against. And obviously they are no more than trees and stones."


    "No, that''s not what I mean." She hesitates. "I still see things."


    I pull my eyebrows together. "You... see things?"


    Emma isn''t someone who would joke or come up with something like this, but that she sees things? It makes me worry that her health is worse than I first thought, at least if she''s hallucinating. She had seen things when she was little, but that''s what kids do. They have a rich imagination and believe pretty much anything. Emma said that an old man visited her room as a child, mom told me when I was older that Emma said that the man had hung himself in the closet. But children say weird and creepy things all the time. This... This I just cannot believe in.


    "Emma," I sigh, "grief can make you¨C"


    "It has nothing to do with grief," she interrupts.


    She doesn''t avoid my gaze when I look for something in her eyes that says that she''s not serious. It''s the first time in a long time that I see her so confident in something.


    "So what? You say that you see things... Do you mean ghosts?"


    I feel stupid asking these questions. I don''t believe in such things, can''t even think of a world where it would make sense.


    "I was there when dad died."


    She''s gone paler than before, her posture stiff.


    "You thought you saw dad''s ghost?" I ask and fold my arms.


    She shakes her head. "I don''t think it was dad."


    "So what did you see?"


    She hesitates. "I think it was death."


    I swallow a laugh. "Death?"


    "I know it sounds crazy... and stupid. I don''t know what it could have been if not that. I saw it just before dad passed. There was this presence, and then I saw something. I can''t explain what it was, but dad saw it too."


    I don''t know what to say. I can''t believe that death is something that you can literally see like some sort of creature. Dad was dying. It doesn''t surprise me that he saw something, but that doesn''t mean that what he saw was real., but that doesn''t mean that what he saw was real. Emma was dealing with loss, maybe she also needed to believe she saw something.


    I take a deep breath. "Emma, I don''t want to minimize what you saw or experienced, but dad was dying. I don''t doubt that he saw something but that doesn''t mean..."


    "That what I saw was real?"


    I nod.


    "You can believe whatever you want, but I know what I saw."


    I sigh. "Okay, why are you telling me this then?"


    She hesitates again. "When grandma died, I called on her. I asked for a sign. I didn''t see anything, and I didn''t hear anything, but I felt her presence. I''ve tried the same with dad, many times. I never feel his presence. I can''t feel, hear, or see anything when I ask him to show that he is here. If dad could show me a sign he would do so, I know that he would, so why isn''t he?"


    The desperation in her voice makes me feel ill. My mouth feels dry, but I force forward these words that I know I shouldn''t say. "Because he''s dead, Emma."


    When you''re dead you don''t come back. No matter how much we want to see him, he is lost, and he doesn''t exist anymore. It''s more painful to cling so tightly onto him, to believe that he still exists one way or another.


    "Death doesn''t have to be an ending," she says. "A soul doesn''t just stop existing."


    I want to tell her that there is no such thing as a soul, that after death there is nothing. Death is the ultimate ending.


    I can''t say it. The desperate brown eyes that are pleading and begging that something is still existing of our dad makes me keep my thoughts to myself.

 Chapter 2 (part 2)

    You can hear the music from the first floor, they''re playing K?nn ingen sorg f?r mig G?teborg by H?kan Hellstr?m on high volume, the voices of the guests are mixed in with the music. I can see Emma in the mirror. She''s sitting on the bed and biting her nails, dressed in a blue dress that reaches her knees, with a white cardigan. The blonde hair is up in a messy hair bun. I''ve helped her with the make-up, it looks natural and beautiful. That''s all that is needed. She made sure that I knew that she didn''t want any attention under the party, so she could melt into the background.


    I straighten out the brown skirt and the yellow sweater. It looks like Emma won''t be able to handle most parts of the party.


    "If it becomes too much, then you know that you can always come back up here and close the door until you feel you can go down again," I say.


    She moves her mouth in a way that makes me think she wants to say something. She gets up from the bed with her hands tightly clasped together. Her whole body looks tense, like she will crack any second. The guest will definitely notice her nervosity, and she''ll stand out whether she wants to or not.


    I put my hands gently over her shoulders. "Relax, it''s going to be fine."


    She does not relax, if anything she seems more nervous. I grab her wrist and leads her to the slightly opened door. Emma takes a deep breath, we go down the stairs and into the living room.


    Mom and Anders have put a bigger table in the living room, one that holds all eleven guests. The plates are filled with potato wedges and honey-glazed ribs, and in the middle of the table stands two large bowls with salad. Next to one of them there is a vase with white orchids. It was Anders that had bought them earlier today for mom, she had forced a smile when he gave them to her. We associated them ¨C and would probably always do so ¨C with dad. She hadn''t said anything, she put that fake smile on her lips and thanked him with a kiss. It was also what she had done when dad died. She smiled and acted like she was okay when others where around. She spoke of dad and the memories they had with love, but never how she felt, or how she dealt with his death. When she thought she was alone I could hear her cry, a few times I had heard her screaming. But that had only been the first weeks.


    Emma pokes a potato wedge with her fork, she doesn''t want to eat with people nearby. Anton, who is eleven looks strangely at Emma and ask his mother why she''s not eating, Veronica ¨C Anders'' little sister ¨C gives him a strict look.


    Emma ignores them and the rest of the conversations the guests are having. They are talking about all sorts of things, about the unusual hot weather lately, about Veronica''s new job and about the new house mom and Anders bought. Emma looks like she wants to disappear. She cuts of a small piece of the potato wedge and slowly moves it towards the mouth and chews it just as slowly.


    I join their unending conversations about the weather. I don''t think it can get more Swedish than this, the only thing that is missing would be herring and potatoes, or maybe a crayfish party.


    I laugh and play along; I smile and pretend that I don''t have to put almost all my attention on my big sister. Occasionally I throw a glance towards Emma to see how she looks like. She gets paler for every second, but it seems like she''s enduring it.


    It''s exhausting. If I didn''t have the constant need to watch over Emma this would have been child''s play. I''ve never had problems with it before, it''s easy to shut out negative feelings if I need to, at least until I''m alone and I can breathe out again. I can''t do that now, I have to be on constant watch. Neither can I show them what I''m actually thinking, so I continue to smile and laugh even if the muscles in my face is opposing.


    I pour down more cider in my glass when it''s empty. I can''t drink too much, then I''ll lose my control over the situation, but I can''t drink too little either.


    "Kristina said that you liked raspberry, so I bought raspberry cider. I hope that works for you," Veronica says and smile.


    I smile back, it feels exhausting to constantly smile and laugh when I don''t have the energy for it. Mom is the same, she laughs and smile without any problems. If we didn''t have that conversation last night, then I would believe that what she is displaying now is genuine. She probably sees through me as well, that I smile and laugh because that''s what is expected of me.


    "Yes, it''s really good." I raise the glass slightly before I take a small sip. "You chose well."


    I laugh. It''s planned down into every detail. It has to be warm, welcoming, but not too loud. Most important, it has to be credible.


    Mom takes a sip from her raspberry cider. "You''re right."


    She smiles so the wrinkles at the edges of her eyes are more noticeable.


    I turn to Emma with the fake smile still on my lips. She has put down the cutlery and is staring at the food with an empty stare. She hasn''t eaten a lot, three or four potato wedges and barely touched the ribs. She''s as pale as a ghost, and her mouth is moving slightly like she wants to say something.


    She doesn''t have time to open her mouth before Anders starts talking. He holds mom''s hand over the table and on her ring finger is an engagement ring. It wasn''t on her finger when we sat down, they must have put it under the table to "surprise" us.


    I don''t smile. If anything, I''m angry. Not because she''s engaged, or that she has moved on. I''m angry that she didn''t warn us, that this is why we were here. It had nothing to do with a family dinner, this was their way to tell everyone at the same time. I should have figured it out from the start. We had never had a family dinner with Anders family before, even if mom and Anders had been together for a year. I should have known they were planning something. I should have asked.


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    "I knew it!" someone says, I can''t focus on the voice.


    My whole head is buzzing.


    "How long?" someone else asks.


    They don''t get the time to answer. Emma gets up so quickly that the chair gets knocked over, they look at each other for a few seconds. No one says anything until Emma leaves the living room.


    "Ah, well..." I think it''s Veronica''s voice.


    I get up from the chair and follow Emma. The living room I leave behind is unpleasantly quiet compared to how loud it was barely a minute earlier.


    Emma has locked herself inside of the bathroom, I knock and lean my forehead towards the door. An unpleasant sound is ringing in my ears and a headache has creeped forward.


    "Emma," I say towards the door and suck in air between my lips, trying to calm myself. "Let me in."


    There is something unpleasant with those words, something I can''t really understand. I shut out the thought, it''s too much now. It feels like I''m going to explode any second.


    I hear her unlocking the door. I take a step back and let her open it. Her eyes are red and glossy, and the wet cheeks has flared up in a pink color. She sits down at the toilet lid with her legs crossed, her arms she keeps around her. I walk into the little bathroom, and I close and locks the door in case mom will try to fix this somehow. In this situation there''s nothing she can say to make things better.


    Emma pulls one of her shaky hands over her mouth, while the other one holds tightly around her arm. She''s leaning forward.


    "I want to go home," she says through gritted teeth.


    I''m no psychologist or therapist. I work at an office and answers calls about questions that have nothing to do with emotional issues, so far from psychologist that it can be. Yet that''s what I try to be for Emma, even if I know that I won''t find any solutions for her problems.


    I take a deep breath and try to think about something that will solve everything that won''t make me feel drained. Sometimes I wonder if I''ll ever end up in a situation where I don''t have the energy to care anymore.


    I take a step forward and ignore the sounds in my head. "Emma..."


    "Did you know?" She asks; the words are quick and firm.


    "No. And I''m just as pissed off as you are."


    If not more.


    "A year... She''s been dating Anders for a year, he was just done with his own divorce and they are already engaged?" She takes a deep breath. "I don''t want to..."


    She doesn''t finish her sentence. She doesn''t need to, I know what she means. Emma has moved on, she''s still stuck on dad''s death while mom and I have moved on. That mom is remarrying is the proof of that. I can''t imagine Emma in a wedding, it wouldn''t work. Mom is expecting her to be there, that she''s going to endure it for her sake. It''s definitely not time for a wedding when one of her daughters is willingly standing with one foot in her grave.


    I push a hand against my face, my head is throbbing violently. "You can go up to the guest room for now, I''ll fix this mess."


    "No!"


    I move my hand down a bit so it doesn''t obscure my vision. "No?"


    "I''m not staying a second longer."


    I sigh and my head is aching. "What are you planning then?"


    "Home, I''m going home."


    "You can''t drive home when you''re a gigantic emotional wreck," I snarl.


    Emma isn''t listening. She gets up from the toilet and pushes me aside to get out of the small bathroom, she unlocks the door and ignores mom who''s one the other side. Anders isn''t with her, he''s probably at the table trying to smooth things over.


    There''s shame and worry in mom''s face. She opens her mouth to say something, but I run after Emma before she can.


    "You can''t be serious, Emma!" I say. Or maybe I scream it.


    "I''m not staying her for another second," she mumbles and picks up the shoes in the hall.


    It''s like something explodes inside of me.


    "Okay, go home then! Do so! Because you can''t even try! Everything has to be on your terms! I''m so fucking sick of being your babysitter, to attend to your needs every damn second!"


    Emma''s mouth is tightly clenched and her nose is wrinkled in disgust. The eyes are cold, not the same cold, indifferent look she usually has, now she''s angry.


    "I never asked you to be my babysitter, Jonna. Nor did I ask you to go after my needs, you have chosen to do so yourself. Just leave me alone."


    She doesn''t put on her shoes; she takes them with her when she walks out of the front door.


    When the door slams shut I feel like screaming, hitting something, doing something to remove this anger and worry. Mom puts a hand on my arm, it''s pleading. I already know what she''s going to ask. "You can''t let her leave like that."


    I want to ask her to make Emma stay, I don''t want to be some sort of mailman between them. Like usual I don''t say anything. I shake off her hand from my arm and I walk to the hall where I put my shoes on.


    "Thank you, Jonna," she says.


    I don''t even look at her when I leave the house. Emma is already sitting in the car, she''s holding a tight grip around the steering wheel and hits the side of her head a few times with the other hand. It''s been a while since I''ve seen her have a meltdown. In most cases she could avoid them, at least so that I or mom didn''t see them. The last time I saw her like this was a few days after dad had passed.


    I gently knock on the car window. She pushes the shaking hands against her head.


    "Go away," she mutters.


    "Sorry, I said too much."


    "You did," she sobs and holds tightly around her hair. "I haven''t asked you to take care of me, so please just leave me alone!"


    "I can''t," I say gently. "Can you let me in?"


    She leans forward a bit, the blonde hair falls down her face. She shakes her head and holds a hand over her mouth.


    "You can''t drive home like this, Emma."


    "I know." She takes a deep and shivering breath. "I want to be alone."


    "Okay, I''ll be out here until you''re ready to let me in. You know I can''t let you drive alone when you''re feeling like this."


    "It''s cold."


    It''s not a single cloud on the star-filled sky above us. The day had been warm but now it''s colder than I prefer.


    "I''m dressed rather warmly." I pinch the yellow sweater. "I''ll be fine."


    "Do you as you''d like," she says and avoids eye contact.


    I''m thankful I decided to have thick leggings and that the sweater is long-sleeved. I sit down at the grass and wait. She has always let me in the few times I''ve seen her have a meltdown, but never right away. I needed to have patience until she was able to have someone next to her. I doubt it''s any different now.


    It takes about twenty minutes until a I hear the sound of the car''s doors being unlocked, she doesn''t open them nor does she tell me that I can come in. She''s doesn''t need to say anything, that she unlocked the doors is clear enough of an answer that it''s okay to enter the car now.


    I get up from the ground and brush away grass and dirt from my skirt thereafter I open the door and sit down beside her, her cheeks are red and swollen.


    I grab the purse that has been in the car since earlier today. "Do you want water? I have a water bottle in my purse."


    "Yes, please," she sobs.

 Chapter 3

    We''re in the car for over fifteen minutes before we start talking. First we talk about dad, about memories I''ve hidden somewhere deep inside of me, the ones I only bring forth when Emma needs it. For me it''s easier to not constantly think about it. For Emma it''s like she''s living on memories. Sometimes I wish I could forget them completely, because there are times when they come up to the surface without me looking for them. When that happens it''s never pleasant. It can happen when I''m in the middle of a conversation with someone that didn''t know about it, then it''s hard to explain why I suddenly lost myself in the middle of a sentence. I can''t say I thought about a memory I''ve pushed away of my dead father. No, in most cases I pretend I was thinking of something else. Eventually we talk about other things, about her mental health and that mom and Anders will marry. I tell her that in most cases in Sweden you can be engaged many years before you marry - if you even marry - she doesn''t seem to think that''s the case with mom and Anders.


    "If they marry, I''m not going," she says and takes a sip of the water.


    "Do you dislike Anders?" I ask.


    She shakes her head. "No, I don''t dislike him. I don''t understand why they have to do everything so quickly... then it''s the whole thing with dad too."


    "Mom must be allowed to move on."


    I should be careful with the words I chose after her meltdown, but she didn''t seem offended or upset over what I said.


    "Yes, but I don''t understand how she can move on when it didn''t end in a normal way. Dad was taken from us, it wasn''t like they stopped loving each other. I don''t understand how she stop loving him and start loving someone else when there wasn''t a real ending of their relationship."


    I lean forward and look out of the car window. It''s dark inside and the only thing that lightens the area are the lamps on the house.


    "I don''t think she stopped loving him. I don''t think you can stop loving someone that is taken away from you in that way, but that doesn''t mean that you can''t love someone else."


    "She loves them both?" she asks.


    "Yes, one does not exclude the other."


    "She stopped going to dad''s grave."


    "I think that''s her way of moving on, but the love will most likely always be there."


    Emma leans her head towards the window.


    "Shall we go back? We can go straight to the guest room and stay there to the morning."


    "No, I meant what I said. I don''t want to be there for a second longer. You can stay if you want to. I''m going home tonight."


    "I don''t think it''s good to drive home now, not after you''ve been so upset. Can''t you try?"


    She turns towards me, her lips are tightly shut together. "I''ve tried. I tried when I came here when I didn''t want to. I tried at dinner even though it felt like I was going to throw up. Just because my attempts don''t look like yours doesn''t mean I''m not trying."


    I sigh. She will not change her mind, either she goes home alone or I go with her and make sure she doesn''t have another meltdown. I already know what mom will ask me to do and I know that I''ll yield.


    "I''ll come. Can I get our bags first?"


    "Do you want you want. I''ll stay in the car."


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    I don''t blame her for it. I rather not go back and answer a bunch of questions that Anders'' side of the family will have, but we can''t leave our things here.


    "I''ll be back shortly," I say and get out of the car.


    ***


    I throw our bags, as well as my purse, into the backseat. They didn''t say anything when I came inside, they pretended that nothing had happened. All they asked was if we were going home now, and mom thanked me for going with Emma. I''m not sure if I''m thankful or annoyed. I wish mom had said something else, or that they didn''t pretend nothing had happened. There was a heavy, thick atmosphere over the whole house that spoke for them, maybe that''s why it left an unpleasant taste in my mouth when they didn''t say anything when it was so tangible.


    Emma puts the key into the car when I open the door to the passenger seat.


    "Can we go now?" she asks.


    The sound of the engine fills the car.


    "Yeah, I brought everything with me, I think," I say and sit down.


    When I slam the door shut and fasten my seat belt, she adjusts the rear-view mirror and pulls out of the driveway. I turn and stare at the house until I can''t see it anymore. I would rather have stayed and tried to fix what had happened, made Emma realize that it was best if she stayed in the guest room until morning. I could have scolded mom, asked her what she was thinking. But there was no point in thinking of what I could have done when I don''t have those choices.


    "What are you planning to do when you come home?" I ask to fill the silence.


    We''re no longer in our childhood''s hometown, there is a fir-tree forest on each side of the way and the only thing that lights up the area is the moon and the strong lights from the cars.


    Emma is focusing on the road in front of her. "I don''t know. I just didn''t want to be there anymore. You know that."


    I don''t believe her, if anything it''s a half truth. That she didn''t want to stay I''ve already realized, I know that her "I don''t know" is there so she doesn''t have to say that she will lay in her bed and not do much else. Sometimes she''ll read some book or watch a tv-show to make the time go faster, sometimes it seems like she wants the time to go and go until everything stops.


    "Maybe you should leave the apartment for some time... get some air?"


    "I''ve gotten enough of air the last few days," she answers firmly.


    She''s right, she''s been out more than she usually is. I''m proud of her, but I''m afraid she''ll shut herself in again.


    "Maybe I can come and visit," I begin carefully. "We could take a walk in the park or something."


    "It''s not needed."


    She has put up a wall that I can''t seem to get through.


    I open my mouth to say something, but she speaks first. "I want to focus on driving, Jonna."


    I sigh. She''s unreachable, no matter what I say to her I can''t reach her.


    "Do you want me to leave you alone?" I ask and she nods with her eyes fixed on the road.


    I can''t think of an answer, not that I think Emma cares. She prefers that I say nothing and let her be.


    I take off the seatbelt and reaches towards the backseat.


    "What are you doing?" she asks and throws a quick glance at me.


    "Since you don''t want to talk," I say and reach for my purse. "I have to entertain myself with something else."


    "Maybe you shouldn''t be doing that now? I can park somewhere..."


    "No, it''s fine." I wrap the purse''s shoulder strap around my two fingers and pull it closer. I get a good grip around the bag and put it into my lap. "See? It went great."


    She throws another worried glance at me. "It could have gone bad."


    I take out the reading tablet I brought with me for the train journey to G?vle, where Emma picked me up. On our way here she had been more talkative, she had talked incessantly about our childhood, about the grave and the forest I promised we would visit. But there was still an unpleasant mood over her.


    I shut out the thoughts and put away the purse while I turn on the reading tablet and start reading.


    Emma never has any music on in the car, which I prefer because we have very different music taste. It''s easier to read to silence than music you don''t like. Yet I can''t focus on the book, I read the same sentence over and over again, the words don''t stick. After a few minutes I give up and put it back in the purse, I lean towards the cold car window.


    I don''t like the silence, but I can''t find an excuse to talk. I close my eyes and hope that I can fall asleep. I think about my soft bed and my apartment. But not for long, soon I''m thinking about my childhood''s bedroom I haven''t seen in almost ten years. I don''t know why I started thinking about it, but one thing is clear. It''s like I''m there, like I''m standing in the middle of my childhood''s bedroom. It''s raining outside the window in my imagination, the grass has become wet and its glistening from the raindrops. I can hear the sound of rain hitting my window, it''s unpleasantly clear and for a moment I believe I''m there. It feels more real than it should.


    "Emma," I say and open my eyes.


    She screams unnaturally high. The strong light that blinds us makes me close my eyes again. I feel glass and pain. I hear screaming.


    Everything goes quiet and I feel nothing at all.

 Chapter 4

    I feel nothing. A dark, looming feeling hangs over my body, one that makes it feel like I''ll disappear. I stand up. I don''t know what''s happening. There is blood and logs scattered on the asphalt. I take a few steps back, but I trip over something and land on the ground. The star-filled sky above me is shining brighter than ever. If I wasn''t so confused, I would have found it beautiful, now it leaves a worry deep inside of my stomach. It''s wrong that it looks like that, now when the colors are clearer and more tangible than what I''m used to.


    I sit up and my thoughts are racing. I want to throw up, but I don''t feel ill.


    A face is looking at me with empty eyes. The mouth is slightly open and the brown hair is stuck in the blood. Half of the face is pushed towards the asphalt and I can see a large gash in the throat. I crawl forward, I can touch the body but it''s incomprehensible heavy. I try to turn the face, it has to look at something else but me. I can''t handle seeing these empty eyes stare at me while it doesn''t see anything at all.


    I can''t even move the head. I know who it is, who belongs to this body and who carries this face. I scream and try to move myself again. I lay still, eyes blank and mouth open. I wipe the blood from my face, it stains my hands but there is still just as much blood. It never ends.


    I''m dead.


    I turn my head to the side to throw up but nothing comes out. I move my hands desperately to my throat and push. I want to get something out - anything. This feeling of darkness and hopelessness grows when I realize what this means.


    I push my hands against my throat, I feel no nausea. Not even the feeling of my hands against my throat. All feelings have disappeared from my skin.


    I look at my body again, it''s just lying there. Completely still and stares with empty eyes into nothing. I grab the shoulders and I try to shake some life into me again. I won''t move even a millimeter.


    "Wake up!" I scream. "Please, wake up!"


    My voice doesn''t sound the same, it echoes over the whole world, yet it feels like no one can hear me.


    I''m crying - I can cry. I sit down next to my body and pushes my head towards my knees.


    "I''m dead."


    I kick it with one of my feet, it doesn''t move. I look out over the road and notices it, the one thing I should have noticed from the start.


    Emma''s car has driven into a steep cliff on the side of the road, she must have just driven to the side. The biggest impact was on the right side - where I sat.


    I step over my body. I can''t feel anything but every step I take feels heavy. I pray in my mind, that''s she''s okay. I don''t believe in god, can''t even imagine it as a possibility, yet I pray. To what god I don''t know. I can pray to all of them, as long as Emma survives.


    I half run when I''m a few meters from the car, and when I get there I notice that she''s still in the front seat. Her cheek is pushed against the airbag and her eyes are closed. She''s alive, I can feel and see it. Her skin is shining of a blue glow, my body had been empty and blank. It felt dead. For Emma it''s like I can see the very soul radiating through her skin.


    I hit my fists against the window, it goes right through the glass and Emma. It feels like I''m pulling my hand through a warm wind. I let my hands be there within her. I open and close them, a hope that she will feel it and know that I''m here. She''s doesn''t move, only the torso is slightly moving up and down. She''s not opening her eyes.


    I pull back my hand and take a step back. It doesn''t burn my eyes even though I''m trying to not cry.


    "Emma," I whisper.


    It echoes and feels like my voice is touching every corner of the earth, at the same time I''ve never felt lonelier. I know I exist with the others, but I can''t be seen or heard.


    Footsteps on the asphalt echoes through the forest and the country road, and I know it''s not of this world. I slowly turn around, scared of what I''ll see.


    It looks human, like a normal man. He looks a few years older than me and is dressed in miner''s clothing from the early 1900''s, they - as well as his face - is covered in coal. The calmness he carries makes me want to flee.


    I don''t move. I have to stand by the car and protect my sister. He can take me, I can allow that, but I won''t let him take Emma. I keep my eyes focused on him when he takes his last steps. He''s tall and lanky. The face is expressionless, with an unspoken power in the brown eyes. The hair that sticks out from the black flat cap is brown and shaggy.


    Maybe he''s not here for me this time. Has he already taken my soul when I died, and now when I''m dead I can see him? I take few steps back towards the car.


    He looks over my shoulder, at Emma. "I''m not here for her."''


    I had expected Death to have a dark, unnatural voice that shook the world when he spoke, but it sounds normal. The only unnatural thing with it is that it''s echoing the same way mine is. It''s not unnatural dark, not coated in some supernatural power.


    I take a step closer to the car, so close that if I hadn''t been dead - if I had a body - I would have felt it against my back.


    "When?" I ask faintly.


    "Not now," he answers. "She''s not dead."


    I throw a glance at my body that lays a few meters away from the car. I removed the seat belt when I reached for the purse and forgot to fasten it again. If I didn''t forget it, would I have been alive now? I doubt it, it was mostly my side that took the worst of it. That I wasn''t crushed between the cliff''s wall and the car was a miracle, if even it still led to my death. It was Emma who drove and I knew she would blame herself. Mom too, she was the one who had asked me to go with Emma, even if it was an unspoken request. We both knew I would rather stay if I had the choice.


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    There''s a chill around us, one that creeps deep inside you. Sometimes I don''t notice it, but every now and then it feels like a cold wind is caressing my cheeks, and I realize I''m really dead.


    I won''t be able to say to neither Emma or mom to not blame themselves, and I won''t be able to make sure they''re okay. I want to throw up again, but I don''t feel ill, at least not in the same way I felt when I was alive.


    Death opens his mouth and I prepare myself on what he''ll say, but his dark eyes wander behind me and a few seconds later the car door opens. She steps right through me and limps forward on the dark asphalt. One of her legs must have been crushed in the crash, since it looks bruised. First I look at Death with his blank expression, then at Emma again. She''s running towards my body and throws herself on the bloody asphalt. It pains me when she pulls my dead body into her lap, the scream that comes afterwards makes me want to throw up again. I want to tell her that everything will be alright, that she doesn''t need to see this.


    I slowly get closer, I try not to look at the blood that is covering the asphalt, Emma''s pale hands and the blue dress. Death walks behind me and keeps his distance.


    She''s wailing and moves my bloody hair out my face with shaky hands. She says something, it''s hard to understand between all the sobbing, but I don''t think I would understand even if she didn''t cry. The words are incomprehensible, I try to listen. It sounds like Swedish, but I can''t understand it, like I''ve lost all understanding of my own language.


    Emma holds my body close and rocks back and forth, she screams and cries until she''s hoarse. I sit down next to her and touch her carefully and I hope that my fingers will stay against her skin like they did my body, but they continue through her like she is - or I am - hollow.


    "You can''t touch her," says Death.


    The voice is calm. He must have taken billions of souls, seen it so many times I can''t even fathom. This is nothing compared to mass casualties and war, yet I cannot understand how he can be unaffected when he sees my sister rocking my dead body.


    I pull my hands back and push both of them against the asphalt, the blood touches my hands and stains my skin. Emma keeps crying and screaming, some of her blonde hair strands has turned red.


    "Why?"


    The word is frail and hard to get out.


    "You''re not on the same plane anymore."


    "Can I reach her some way? Can she hear me?"


    "No. She can''t hear you, just like you can''t hear her."


    I want to tell him that I can hear her. But I understand what he means. No matter how much I focus on the words she''s whispering to my cheek, I can''t understand them. It''s foreign to me. Can she hear whispers when I speak but can''t understand them or does her nothing at all?


    "Come," says Death and grabs my arm.


    I can''t feel it, I feel that someone is holding me, but the feeling itself isn''t there. The same way I feel everything else. The best way to describe it would be to compare it to the feeling when you''re holding a stick and poke it at something soft or hard. Even though you''re not physical touching it with your body you can feel what it is.


    He helps me up. I let him lead me away from Emma. I''m not looking at her, I try to force out the sound of the crying and the incomprehensible, desperate words.


    The logs from the truck is covering the road. It could have been worse, I tell myself. If Emma had driven straight into the truck we would have both been dead, there wouldn''t have been a lot of us left. Death would reap two souls instead of one.


    When the sounds of her crying and the masculine voice yelling in the distance - just as incomprehensible as Emma - is barely heard anymore, Death lets go of my arm.


    "I''m sorry," says Death with the same calm voice. I don''t know if he apologizes because he has to take my soul or if it''s about what I just witnessed.


    I can''t look him in the eyes or the road that leads back to Emma and my empty dead body. I focus on his clothes. He''s wearing a thick blue shirt with black stains, it hangs loosely over his malnourished body. The pants are equally worn hidden by coal, and the dirty jacket is full of small holes and tears. The only that is missing is a miner''s helmet, instead he wears a flat cap. When my eyes meet his I shudder.


    I haven''t thought of what Death would look like. There was no point in thinking about something as unlikely as a reaper, but whatever I saw Death as, it wasn''t him. The classic picture of a reaper, a skeleton dressed in black rags with a scythe in his hand, seems more fitting than this. I don''t get it. Why a miner? Can he change form and if that''s the case, why would he choose to present himself as a coal miner? I have no connection with anything that has something to do with miners, there was no logic in it. Yet he stood there, dressed in these worn-out clothes stained with coal and dirt.


    "You can''t stay here," he says like I haven''t figured that out yet.


    "I know."


    A part of me wants to cling to this world, to struggle and fight until I can''t take it anymore. Another part is tired and welcomes death with open arms. It has fought and tried for a long time, it has no strength to continue any longer. I should be more afraid of that side and what lies ahead if I let it take over, but I''m not.


    Death studies me like he''s waiting for something, when he''s done he puts his coal-stained hand in his pocket and takes out a flat stone that is shining in blue. He doesn''t have to explain what it is. It''s fitting that it''s a stone, more so than a scythe now when he''s presenting himself as a miner.


    It feels like an eternity, it shines blue but nothing happens. The light won''t become weaker or stronger.


    "Is that... All?"


    I feel a lump in my throat.


    "Of course not," he snaps back and taps his fingers lightly against the stone and when nothing happens he glances at me with low eyebrows.


    I take a step back when the calmness runs off his face like rainwater. It''s like I see a whole different person, like he just removed a mask. I know how it is to carry a one all too well.


    "Of course," he mutters with annoyance and puts the shining stone back in his pocket. "Change of plans."


    For a while I wonder if he''ll leave me here. Is this how ghosts are created, that even Death won''t take their soul? Would I have to be here for the rest of my death and haunt this country road? Before I can ask, Death takes out another stone, this one is shining in orange instead of blue. I take a step back. It''s shining in a way that makes me think of fire. A wild, inextinguishable fire.


    "It''s not what you think."


    He turns his back to me and reaches his hand out against nothing, he lets go of it and the stone stops in the middle of the air. It folds itself out like it is paper and creates a large, black door. There are no walls around it and it''s shining of the same powerful and wild orange light that stone had. Something that looks like crystalized veins reaches around the gate like branches, even they shine of orange and in the middle a flower is created - a clover.


    Even if the strong orange light portrays something evil - no matter what Death says - there is something beautiful with the gate. It feels ancient and I''ve never felt as small as I feel now.


    Death takes a few steps forward and I stand still, like I''m bewitched. He knocks on the door and opens it. What lies behind makes me think that he lied. There are no high flames with the same orange glow like the door and the stone. But what is waiting for us isn''t much better.


    Darkness. Not the same as a dark room with no sunlight, this darkness seems alive. I can see it swirl around itself, thick enough that I can''t see what lies behind. I force myself to take a step back.


    "Follow me," he says.


    He doesn''t take the last step that he needs to walk through the whirling darkness. He awaits my answer.


    "And if I refuse?" I ask but my voice breaks at the last word.


    "You can stay. You do whatever you please. But what awaits you here is worse than what''s behind the gate. Don''t judge things on how they look."


    He steps into the darkness and it moves around his shoulders and back like a cat stroking its body against your legs. When he disappears behind the gate the darkness settles back into place.


    I''m trying to convince myself to not follow Death, but when the gate is slowly shutting, I plunge into darkness.

 Chapter 5 (part 1)

    Death stands on the other side with his hands in his pockets. We''re in a long hallway and on each sides of the walls there are lamps, they''re glowing with the same orange glow like the stone and the gate. They are formed as hexagons with spirals in the middle made out of shining crystals. I can''t see the end of the corridor, it''s covered in an imposing darkness, but it''s not moving the same way as the it did behind the door. In first glance there''s nothing odd with it.


    I turn hastily around against the gate and I''m met with a stonewall. I didn''t even hear it close. The footsteps of Death echoes out against walls. He walks past me and bends down where the gate once stood, on the ground lays the little, shining stone. He picks it up and puts it into his pocket.


    "This way," he says as he walks past me.


    Lamp after lamp lights up on each side of the walls as we walk down the corridor. I make a mistake and look up. I''m met with a layer of grey-black clouds, it covers the entire ceiling and reminds me of the those from a thunderstorm, if a little more smoke-like. Sometimes I can also see footprints, like someone is roaming above us.


    Death walks in front of me, slowly ¨C like he''s waiting for me to catch up, but I don''t dare to get too close. I keep a few meters between us. I don''t know if I can trust him, I don''t even know where he''s taking me. The stone didn''t work. I don''t want to spend too much time thinking about what that means.


    A loud sound echoes through the long corridor for every lamp that is lit, it lights up parts that are covered in darkness. Death seems uninterested in the lights and it''s not until we reach the end of the corridor that he stops. Next to a gigantic gate stands something I never thought I would see. Death had shown himself as a human, so I hadn''t expected to see something that seemed unreal and frankly almost childish. It feels like I stepped into a movie or fairytale.


    It''s dressed in what looks like beautiful and fancy noble-clothes from 1700s, they fit well ¨C all too well considering the creature in front of us is made of bones. It has no skin nor flesh. The body is a skeleton of a human, but its head is a skull of an animal, a wolf. The eyes are not hollow and black, they are shining of the same orange glow as the stone and the lights.


    The orange glow in its eyes blackens for a moment. Like it was closing its eyes.


    "Good day, Clover," Wolf-skull says, and the lower jaw is moving while it speaks.


    Clover? Death has a name and it''s Clover? It''s so inappropriate and out of place that it''s almost laughable.


    "Is that a new one?" It asks and points a finger at me.


    How all the bones stay in place without falling apart is a wonder to me.


    "Obviously," Death answers.


    "It''s been a while since you had a new one. If I remember correctly, you weren''t really fond of it." It laughs. "You said it was annoying and too much work. Blomst said it was good for your... character?"


    I swear I can see it smile even though it doesn''t have muscles nor skin.


    Death groans. The creature stands aside and points with its ivory-white hand at the large gate of black stone.


    "They await," it says.


    Death goes forward and knocks, a little hatch opens up and a card is pushed out. When Death gently pry out the paper the gate opens. The same black whirling darkness is hidden on the other side. He gives me the brown card and the only thing on it is a number ¨C two thousand three hundred forty-five ¨C as well as a flower, it''s looks like a chamomile.


    "Blomst," Death says.


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    "Have fun," Wolf-skull calls out as we step into the gate.


    On the other side of the darkness lays a gigantic hall with hundreds of chairs next to the walls, humans are sitting in them and waiting. At first glance they seem normal, but I soon realize they stand out. Some of them are dressed in clothes we had hundreds of years ago, like they don''t necessarily fit in the present. Everything from noble-women''s dresses to soldier uniforms from the early 1900s. Most of them seems to belong to my time, like they ¨C just like I ¨C are preparing to be reaped by Death. But that doesn''t explain the people who don''t belong to my time. Is this hall limbo? Will I be sitting here for hundreds of years before I can move on?


    Some of the humans are sitting calmly at the chairs, while others are crying. They are talking and I can understand them. One man dressed in Native American tribal clothes are talking with someone in 1700''s clothing, both of them are talking in perfect Swedish. It feels strange. I shouldn''t understand them, they shouldn''t be speaking my native language when they most likely never set foot in Sweden. How can I hear and understand them when I wasn''t even allowed to hear my sister?


    Death lays a hand against my back and pushes me gently forward. I didn''t even notice that he was walking behind me, I had been so engrossed on the people that I stopped walking.


    When we arrive at the chairs, two new ones grow from the floor. We sit down and don''t talk to each other. I''m thankful for that. I don''t know if I would be able to listen if he did say something, I''m too dazed to get my thoughts under control. I''m overthinking everything, trying to find a logical explanation for all this that can explain what''s going on, but I only end up more confused.


    I can''t see the end of the room, only the edge of it and it''s slightly rounded ¨C like it''s going round and round. The chairs are slowly moving along the wall and new people have sat down next to us. They don''t talk with each other either.


    It feels like hours. The chairs are slowly moving forward, sometimes we are suddenly in front of those who sat a few chairs ahead of us. I don''t know how it works and I don''t dare to ask. I think about what Emma is feeling. What mom will think when the police call her, how angry and hurt she''ll be. Yet another person taken by death. How guilty they''ll feel. I push the thoughts aside and try to focus on something else, but everything I can see in front of me is my own dead body. How heavy it was and how it had stained my fingers with its blood.


    Death reaches out his arm in front of me. "Look."


    Seven gates are on the other side of the wall ¨C the part of the room I couldn''t see before. Symbols are carved into the doors. A chamomile on the first one, the same flower that''s on the paper Death gave me, and I know that''s where we shall head when it''s our turn. The others have numbers, a moon, a peace-symbol, and a skeleton of an animal. Another one has a dog with three heads and the last one has nothing carved into it, only a single red brush stroke. Above them they each have a sign made of stone with numbers carved into it, when the numbers change the sign goes blank and then the new number is carved. There are no rules when it comes to the numbers, it can go from eleven and jump to one hundred forty-three and then back to eighteen. Not that I thought that this place would suddenly have logical rules.


    Death rises from his chair, the sign above the door with the chamomile has changed to our number.


    I reluctantly get up. I''m scared, I can admit that. Scared of what kind of monsters hide behind the door. Scared of what kind of creature Death answers to. My legs feel heavy when we traverse the long hall to the first door.


    This time he doesn''t need to knock, the door opens by itself. We step inside of the whirling darkness, and I take a deep, desperate breath.


    The first thing I notice is that there is no skeleton or monster in front of us. The woman sitting behind the desk is a completely normal human, at least she looks like it. The room is small compared to the rest of the rooms we''ve been in. The ceiling and floor are made of wood, and it looks like we''re in the inside of a tree. There are flowers hanging from the ceiling and the walls, there are also some on the side of the room and on the desk the woman is sitting behind. It''s like a jungle of flowers and plants.


    She has a large, warm smile on her lips. Her hair is brown and done into two low hair buns, and she has three small upside down triangles drawn on her forehead, a scarf around her neck and she''s proudly showing of the earrings that looks like chamomiles. This is Blomst.


    "Oh, Clover," she says softly and get ups from her chair behind the desk. "Just when I was about to lose all hope."


    Clover''s body tenses up when she comes over and wrap her arms around him.


    "We have waited," she says as she lets go of Clover who is showing a displeased grimace, "Or I have waited."


    She walks back to her chair, sits down, and taps her hand against the desk. "Sit down, you don''t need to stand."


    Two chairs made by crooked branches grows out of the floor. Clover sits down but I hesitate. Blomst gives me a gentle smile. I doesn''t help, I feel just as uncomfortable, but I do as she say and sit down on the other chair.


    "Well then, now we can start."

 Chapter 5 (part 2)

    She moves her white fingers over the papers.


    "Can we get this over with?" mutters Clover.


    Blomst leans back at her chair and puts a hand under her chin, there''s something playful in the light blue eyes. I can''t let go of the thought of what is actually in front of me, the hundreds of souls that waited for her or something else. I saw seven gates in the hall. There are seven creatures behind each gate. Would they look and seem as human as the woman in front of us, or would they look like the skeleton I saw in the corridor? It feels like I can''t trust anything, I questions everything I see. While this woman looks human, there''s something about her that makes me doubt that what I see is real. A little warning tells me to not trust it, that it''s more complicated than this. Even Clover hade told me to not judge everything on appearance only, it could have been a warning.


    "You see, Clover here has never liked apprentices."


    I frown. Apprentices?


    "Every time he complains. Now it''s been such a long time that I wondered if he convinced all the apprentices to stay and become specters instead."


    She moves the light blue eyes towards Clover, the friendliness is replaced by a coldness that creeps into my skin. I shiver, it''s hard to shut it out. I was always good at feeling other people''s emotions, but this is a whole other level.


    "You know I haven''t done that," he says and lowers his eyebrows.


    The cold disappears as quickly as it came. "Apparently not, because your new apprentice is sitting right in front of us. You can''t blame me, Clover. When one of my soul wanderers hates every second of handling the apprenticeship and it''s been more than forty years since they had one... then you start to wonder."


    "Soul wanderer?" I dare to ask.


    Blomst''s eyes are unusually dark when they were light a few seconds ago.


    "Haven''t you told her?" She speaks calmly, but the room feels stuffy in the same way as when a thunderstorm is on its way.


    He looks at her with an ice-cold calmness. I would have believed it if I hadn''t seen him clench his fist under the desk. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as she leans forward. It''s difficult to breath and the air feels heavy and foul.


    "Clover?" she asks with a smile; the heavy air leaves the room, and the eyes lightens up again.


    "I haven''t said anything," he answers.


    Blomst snorts and shakes her head. "No wonder you haven''t had an apprentice in forty years if you don''t tell the poor souls anything." She gives me a half, sympathetic smile. "A soul wanderer ¨C or a harvester soul if you prefer that term ¨C is a human soul that harvest souls."


    "A reaper with other words?" I ask.


    She smiles. "We don''t call it reaper. You see, a soul wanderer can be both men and women. Children, teenagers, adults and elders. And of course, you won''t need to reap anyone with a scythe, the way humans have depicted you. You don''t even need to call it reaping or harvesting if you associate it too much with reapers. That''s why we mostly use soul wanderers today, harvester souls are too often associated with reapers. Anyway, you can call it whatever you want. Collect souls, save souls, retrieve souls. It is what it is."


    She said you. Why did take this long for me to figure it out? Why I''m here, why there were so many souls in the waiting hall. The only ones who had cried were the ones that looked like they belonged to my time, the other ones that have been here for hundreds of years sat calmly and waited. Just like Clover had done.


    I force myself to ask, but a lump in my throat makes it sound unnatural. "You said you... as in I?"


    Blomst glares at Clover. "See, this is why you always explain before you take them through the corridor," she sighs and looks at me again. "I would have preferred if Clover was the one who explained everything, but yes. Clover took you here because the soul stone rejected you. Which can mean two things. Either you have chosen to stay, or you''re a soul wanderer."


    "I could have stayed?"


    "Yes, I told you you could stay," he reminds me. "Believe me, it''s better this way. If you would have stayed there, there wouldn''t be a lot of you left. As an apprentice¨C"


    "Apprentice?" I interrupt. "Is that what I am?"


    "Normally an apprentice gets to choose." Blomst glares at Clover for every word. "But since Clover took you through the corridor without asking, you never received that choice. I''m sorry. Once you step into the corridor there is no turning back. You''re already part of this world, you''re changed. A normal soul can''t come into this world, at least not in the same form."


    I don''t dare to ask what she means with the same form, or what it means to not be a normal soul. One thing is clear, I''m stuck here. He could have told me, explained that I had a choice and what it meant to follow him. But he didn''t and I can''t understand why. What kind of answer is it''s better this way? I couldn''t even choose how my death will play out.


    "I didn''t even get a choice?"


    "You would have had one if Clover had done his work correctly. But since he took you through the gate there is no other choice."


    "And if the stone had done what it was supposed to do? If it had worked, what would have happened?"


    "It didn''t," Clover reminds me.


    "I didn''t ask what happened, I asked what would have happened if it worked."


    He annoys me and if I can say anything about his expression, he feels the same way about me.


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    "Then the stone takes your soul. You''ll either be reborn or you''ll move on."


    Clover almost sounds bored, he doesn''t want to spend his time explaining these things to me.


    I don''t if it would have been better if I didn''t follow him. What would have been left of me? Would I have been just a soul that was desperately trying to make the world react? Had I died at home it would have been different. But I died alone on a lonely road between forests.


    I take a deep breath and stare at my fingers in my lap. My clothes are whole, they''re not bloody or torn and cut open like the ones my dead body wore. They are whole and clean like they had been in the guest room in front of the mirror.


    "What does it mean to be an apprentice and a soul wanderer?"


    They hadn''t said anything, they let me take in all this information. Blomst pulls a finger over the papers, I doubt she needs them. Maybe it''s to make her seem more human, so we''re not guarded.


    "An apprentice follows the soul wanderer that would have harvested their souls. Simply put, you''ll just have to watch and feel how the job works. When I think you''re ready you can start harvesting souls on your own. A special area will be chosen for you. Clovers special area is within accidents. There are many different areas like murder, old age, birth for the mother, an infant''s death, sickness, and suicide."


    It feels strange of how she speaks of it ¨C like it would be some sort of internship at a job. It felt human and normal until she started talking about the different ways of dying. I want to remind her what she''s talking about, that our death deserves respect.


    "You won''t have to worry that you''ll end up with suicide as your area. Only those who take their own lives are handed that area. And you..." she looks through the papers on her desk, "died in a car accident."


    It sounds morbid when she speaks of my death in a light-hearted tone.


    "Jonna B?ck," she says, it sounds like she''s tasting the name, testing it out. "Jonna. B?ck."


    It feels strange when she pronounces my name, but it also makes me feel an inner peace. I glance at Clover, he has a slightly sad, absent gaze. I focus on my name one of the papers. It spelt with capital letters in a beautiful penmanship, everything is handwritten in black ink.


    "I''m sorry," she says with a sympathetic smile.


    Clover closes his eyes. He reminds me of Emma when she grieved dad at his funeral. Eyes closed, with her head leaned down and her hands clasped together as in a prayer. Clover is not doing any of that ¨C the only thing they had in common was that both of them had their eyes closed ¨C but something in the coal-stained face reminds me of the sorrow Emma carried that day.


    Blomst''s hand is reached out over the desk and papers. She slowly lowers it towards my name and pulls the fingers gently over it. Everything that''s left is a blurry black stain.


    It''s only for a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. First I forget my name, who I am and what I stand for, what my wishes and goals are. Then I forget everything else. My family, my friends. I don''t remember the blonde woman, the one with the curls. But she''s shining strongly in the empty darkness. I try to remember her name, who she was. Everything feels messy and confusing.


    It comes back, a wave of memories and emotions strikes me, hard enough that I almost fall off the chair. I breathe in, desperate and hastily, I can''t get enough of air. It feels like I''m suffocating. I lean forward over the desk and cough. My hand is pushing hard against my chest.


    My name is Jonna B?ck. I''m twenty-two. I have a sister whose name is Emma; she has blonde curly hair and I have to remember her. I have to remember myself. I can''t forget. Jonna. Jonna. Jonna. I repeat those thoughts over and over again.


    A sad and pitiful noise comes out of my mouth, and I can''t stop shaking.


    "It''s unpleasant, but it is demanded of you," says Blomst and holds up her hand, on one of her fingers there is something written. Orchid, my dad''s favorite flower.


    I can''t answer, my whole body is shaking and my head feels messy, like someone took a large ladle and spun everything around.


    She pushes her finger onto the paper and the word slowly finds its way to the black stain that was once my name. Eventually it disappears completely and all that is left is Orchid.


    "Your name is Orchid," she says with a soft and welcoming voice and looks straight into my soul.


    "I have a name," I get out and lower my hand from my chest. "My name is Jonna B?ck."


    Jonna B?ck, repeat it, says a voice in my head. You cannot forget. For the first time since I died I feel nauseated and a headache pounding against my temples. It hurts but I finally feel something, even if it''s just pain.


    "Not anymore," says Blomst and shakes her head. "We all change our names."


    "When she says we all, she means us soul wanderers." Blomst glares at Clover but he continues. "I don''t think you''ve ever had to change your name even once, Blomst."


    "Why do I have to change my name?" I ask.


    Blomst moves her gaze to me.


    "A soul wanderer has to let go of their former life. The name change is the first step in that direction."


    "And what''s the second step?"


    Clover answers before Blomst can. "You forget yourself, your life before you died. Your family and the ones you loved. Everything that you have experienced in life. I don''t remember my name or the exact circumstances of how I died, who my family was. All I know is that I''m Clover, a soul wanderer. The only clue we have is from the soul wanderers that held our apprenticeship, our mentors. And since we don''t look like the exact moment we lost our lives, we can never know the circumstances of how we truly died ¨C unless we took our own lives. Those scars stay," he looks at Blomst, "for some reason."


    Blomst makes a hand gesture and gives me a sympathetic smile that doesn''t reach the eyes.


    "It''s not as bad as he makes it sound like. Clover is an eternal pessimist regardless of whether memories of his living years remain or not. There''s a world after death, those memories won''t disappear. You can see this as a new life. When a soul is reborn it doesn''t have any memories of its past life, but it can still live a good life, experience new or old things. It''s not an end of your life, it''s a new beginning," she says and strokes her fingers over my new name ¨C Orchid.


    Orchid. It sounds wrong. It doesn''t fit.


    "And one more thing," she says with a smile.


    Blomst rolls over with her chair to a bookcase made of dark wood, branches covered in greenery have grown on the sides. There''s a small light brown box in one of the shelves, she carefully picks it up and rolls back. She puts the box on the desk.


    "You can open it, Orchid."


    I grimace by the sound of that name. I open the square box and inside there''s a thick coin about the size of my palm. It''s shining of orange and blue, and I feel life, how it felt to live when I hold my hand over it.


    "What is it?" I ask while holding back tears.


    It feels warm, the glow from the coin is caressing my palm. I don''t want to move.


    "We call them Stormcoins," Blomst says with a smile. "Every soul wanderer gets one when they arrive, and it''s charged once a year."


    "What does it do?"


    "It gives humans another chance," Clover says.


    "You can use it when you rather have the human soul continuing living in their vessel. Then you don''t have to harvest them." Blomst leans back. "You''ll create a new destiny for them and a new death date. It could be fifty years from now and if you ¨C and them ¨C are unlucky, it can be just a few hours difference."


    If Clover had such a coin, he could have saved me from a certain death. I wouldn''t be sitting here, and I wouldn''t have left Emma alone. I don''t know how to ask it, how to not sound selfish and greedy.


    "I''ve already used it," he admits and his eyes narrows. "But even if I hadn''t, I wouldn''t have used it on you. Don''t take it personally, the only ones I use the Stormcoin on is children."


    I can''t hate him for that, definitely not after the last thing he said. Because it was right, a child that hadn''t even had time to live yet deserved the coin much more than I did, even though I also didn''t get very old.


    Blomst closes the lid on the box, I wince and pull my hand back.


    "Door eleven is the door to your new world, your new home," she says like I''m supposed to understand what that means. "I''ve told you most things, Orchid. The rest Clover will tell you."

 Chapter 6

    I have never seen anything like it in my entire life. The only thing that exist here is a stone platform carrying a line of hundereds of doors. None of them - nor the corridor - have a single wall. Everything beyond this platform is coated in darkness. I cannot see where it starts or ends ¨C if it even has an ending, maybe it''s just as infinite as the universe is said to be.


    Clover barely has any shadows in his face, if anything he seems more illuminated than what he had been in Blomst''s office. My hand is just as clear and light. The doors are the same, like we and them aren''t affected by the darkness.


    I study door after door. None of them looks exactly the same, but they are divided in groups. Some of them are covered in colors. One reminds me of and orange and pink sky, another of a winter storm. There are doors made of wood, some of which have crooked and twisted branches growing out of them. We stop when we reach the last set. They''re taller and white with purple and blue crystalized veins in different patterns. The first door of that kind has the number one hundred eleven written on the top of it.


    Clover continues down the corridor with his hands in his torn pockets. It''s quiet here. I''ve never realized what total silence is, how deafening it is to hear nothing at all. I can''t hear my or Clover''s footsteps, I can barely hear myself breathe. I''m scared of talking, at the same time I want to scream to make this unpleasant place be heard.


    Clover stands in front of a door with the same crystalized veins as before, at the top it says eleven. We''re almost at the end of the corridor where the stone platform stops abruptly, like a part of it has fallen down into the darkness. He walks the four steps up the stairs that leads to the door and this time he doesn''t knock. We''re met with the same whirling darkness as always. I don''t know why I expected that we would see what was behind door eleven.


    Clover steps through the darkness without hesitating, I follow him through the gate.


    I had been wrong. The strange corridor almost seemed normal compared to what I just stepped into. The difference is that the Eleven is beautiful.


    "Welcome to the Eleven," Clover says and takes a step down.


    We''re standing at gigantic stairs shaped like a crescent moon over the ground. The grass is dark blue and is shimmering like the night sky''s stars. Below there are black stones, they reflect the dark blue grass and the pink sky that is marked with a black glow peeking through the colour. They remind me of sunlight forcing their way through trees in a dense forest. It looks like glass, like this magical world is inside of a black-pink speckled glass globe.


    The trees are wide and sturdy, their branches grow upward and encircle large round objects. If I didn''t know better, I would have thought it was the very moon that was shrunk, multiplied, and placed in the trees. I can see several white roofs peek through the forest. But in the distance lays the strangest and most astonishing structure I''ve ever laidmy eyes upon. An endless white spire reaching beyond the glass-covered sky. A blue, glowing liquid comes flowing down like two slow waterfalls, one on each side. Thet tower is surrounded by circular platforms that hangs in mid-air, each of them carrying hundreds of doors. I wonder where they lead? If they lead anywhere, this place so far hasn''t had any clear rules. Hundreds of doors on halo-formed platforms leading nowhere would not surprise me here. I might even prefer it.


    "What is that?" I ask Clover and point at the tower.


    "The well."


    Clover doesn''t seem impressed by the large waterfall.


    "Don''t wells'' waters usually come from underground?"


    "Not this well."


    He walks down the last steps and continues over the shiny stone pathway. I can''t stop staring at the blue waterfall, or as Clover called it ¨C the well.


    When we get closer to the forest I realize it''s filled with large glowing mushroom, and the trees with moon have a quiet melody.


    "Soul wanderers are not the only ones living here."


    "What do you mean?" I ask and imagine spirits floating around in the air, but I don''t see spirits nor birds on the black-pink sky. If anything, it seems lonely.


    "They''re not spirits," he says. I can''t help but to wonder if he can read my mind or if it''s a normal thought to have when you get here the first time. "They aren''t humans either. They''ve never lived on the other side like we have, they live here their whole life and will do so until they fade away."


    "Fade away?"


    I forget all about the forest and put all my attention on Clover who''s walking one or two meters in front of me.


    "Dies. They don''t leave a body like we did when we were alive, they just sort of stop existing," he says unaffected.


    It sounds vulgar to just stop existing. I thought that was how it was before I died, that you fade away. But there was still a body left, evidence that you''ve existed.


    "Can you talk to them?" I ask.


    "The ones that can talk, you can talk with, yes. They''ll probably speak to you too, treat them like the rest of us. There isn''t much difference between us, except their appearance."


    "Okay, I understand," I mumble even though I''m not so sure I do.


    I notice that the bark on the trees are vibrating, is that where the melody is coming from?


    "We soul wanderers lives in one and the same building in the different worlds. We have one room ¨C often with a bed. There''s also a dining hall, we don''t need to eat nor sleep but we like to continue with the things we''re used to. There''s a market further west, and of course the well in east. We don''t usually go there."


    "We can eat?"


    I hadn''t expected that. I had such problems moving my body, couldn''t even move it a millimeter and I couldn''t even grab my sister without my hands going through her, at the same time I was able to hold the brown card and touch the chairs in the waiting hall and Blomst''s room.


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    He looks back at me and wrinkles his nose. "Why wouldn''t you be able to eat?"


    "Cause I''m dead? When I tried to move my body, I couldn''t."


    He snorts and turns his back at me again. "You''re not in the same world anymore, are you?"


    I hate that, I haven''t accepted that yet. That I''m dead and that there is a life after death. How could I accept this? No matter how beautiful and magical it seems.


    "You can eat and touch anything in this world, as well as the others. If you try to do something in the living world it can be harder, but you learn."


    I have a hard time believing that we''ll ever touch living people the same way we did when we''re alive, more likely we''ll be like poltergeists.


    I think about Emma, and I pray to whatever is out there that she is not dead. I''m thinking how she will handle my death, what I would do if I was there. They are foolish and unnecessary thoughts because I can''t be with her, I can''t say that everything will be fine. Because it won''t. How the hell is she going to cope? How can she move on when she wasn''t able to handle my dad''s death? My death was a sudden accident. She''ll blame herself. I hate every moment of it. I''m scared that I''ll see her one day and not recognize her. Would she recognize me? How would she take it when I treat her like a stranger? Would I say that I don''t know who she is, that I don''t even know who I am? Who is Jonna? Will I think so one day, or more likely ¨C who was Orchid, what was her name? How did she die and who did she love?


    It''s a curse, to known what''s coming but not being able to do a thing about it. All I can do is wait to forget, for my memories to be devoured by my new name and my new "life". Blomst had told me that it would be like a new life, new memories, and new experiences. But as I''ve understood it, I''ll slowly forget things. Memory after memory will disappear and I''ll need to struggle with the fact that I can''t do anything about it, while I cling onto the few memories I''ll have left. It''s not the same as being reborn. I''m stuck here. I''m dead.


    "We''re here," Clover says; I''m pulled out of my self-pity.


    We''re standing in front of a small town with large houses made of white stone. Dark blue vines that shimmers like stars are growing upon the walls and the roof. The reflecting black stone leads into the town and covers the whole street and upon them they walk ¨C the creatures Clover spoke of. Some of them looks somewhat human, while others look like they''ve been taken straight out of a fairytale or horror movie. I can barely see the skin on one of the creatures, it''s covered in white fur. The face is round with a flat nose, and two fully black eyes stares at us as it passes by. It''s only around the big eyes, nose, and mouth that the creature doesn''t have any fur. Another creature is completely transparent black and glides through the town like a ghost.


    "They stare because you''re new," Clover whispers. "They always do. The eleventh door is one of smaller place, there are rarely new soul wanderers."


    I follow the furry creature with my gaze.


    "Come," Clover says.


    I walk closely behind, closer than what Clover would like but when the creatures stare I can''t help but to attach myself to him like a leech.


    "They''re not dangerous," he mutters when I walk straight into him for the third time.


    Clover stops next to a long building, which I believe is the resident for the soul wanderers, he pulls out a note from one of his jacket''s pockets.


    "Here. Your room-number."


    He gives me the note. I don''t ask when he got it even though I never saw Blomst give him any notes. Or it just showed up in his pocket, after everything I''ve seen it could be a possibility.


    "Thank you," I say and I look at the note, room seventeen it says in the same beautiful handwriting that my name had been written in, "for the note and because you''re explaining e¨C"


    Clover holds up his hands and silences me, he frowns his forehead in annoyance.


    "You don''t need to thank me. It''s literally my job... because you''re my apprentice."


    I can''t help but to notice that when he mentions apprentice his nose twitches. Most time I have something to say when someone doesn''t like me very much. But now I don''t have the energy for a snarky remark.


    "I have things I have to do today," he mutters. "Tomorrow I''ll show you the dining hall, the day after tomorrow Blomst will have a contract for me... us."


    "Contract?" I ask.


    He glares at me.


    "A harvest-contract."


    "So you know that someone will die before it happens?"


    "The guardians do."


    He seems stressed.


    "The guardians?"


    He rolls his eyes which makes me fold my arms.


    "Blomst and the others. It doesn''t matter, I can answer how many questions you''d like tomorrow, but I really don''t have time for this now," he snaps, I raise one of my eyebrows. "Just go in now. You can ask your infinite questions tomorrow."


    I don''t get the time to answer, he hurriedly walks away upwards a small hill covered by the black stones. I''m left at the front door, and when I can no longer see him I step into the building. It seems like a normal house, and it''s not hidden by a whirling darkness. The corridors are narrow and has three doors on each wall, when I get further in I realize that every corner leads into two corridors with six doors with different numbers. It feels like I''m going in circles, and it no longer seems like a normal house but more of a labyrinth that never ends. Yet it''s not hard to find my way to the right room, the building is leading me where I''m supposed to go and shortly I''m standing in front of room seventeen. Just like the stone signs in the waiting hall the numbers do not have any rules and is numbered in such a strange way that you can''t logically find them, you have to trust your intuition to find the right one.


    This place gives me a headache. Everything is familiar but distorted, it makes everything bizarre and foreign. Like they built these places to look like our worlds but failed something so remarkably.


    I open the door to room seventeen and walk through the whirling darkness. It pains my heart, but what''s in front of me is my childhood bedroom. I remember everything. The bed, the wardrobe, and the desk. The large pinboard with the photographs, and letters and notes that mom and I hung up with thumbtacks.


    I don''t get it. Why would they give me my childhood''s bedroom if I''m supposed to forget everything? Forget who I am, who Emma is, my friends and family. Blomst words keeps coming up in my thoughts. A new life.


    I laugh bitterly, is this supposed to be a bad joke about d¨¦j¨¤ vu? Will I wonder one day what all this is? The only thing I''ll feel is a strong feeling that I''ve experienced this before. Or is it supposed to comfort me? Will it make it easier to gradually forget everything, to have this as a reminder that I used to be someone?


    I sit down at the chair in front of the pinboard. The photographs are eerily similar, I''ve seen them many times. I still had one of the photos when I died. It laid in my wallet, I had folded it and there was a white line over my dad''s face, but you could still see his big smile. This photograph was newer, it wasn''t folded a hundred times and I can see my dad''s face clearly. I can see the blonde, curly hair that my sister inherited, I got my mom''s hair color but it''s just as curly as dad''s and Emma''s. On the photograph I''m showing of my toothless smile. I can''t be old, eight at most. Emma is also smiling. Two people I''ll never see again. Will I look at these photographs one day and not recognize them?


    The notes on the pinboard are poems that I wrote when I was little, mom wrote down compliments on the colorful notes. On one of them it says she believed I would write poems when I got older. It never happened; I don''t think I wrote a single poem after reaching my teenage years.


    I look out of the window, it''s the same view that I had when I was a child. The grass isn''t dark blue and shimmering, it''s green and is slightly glistening from the rain outside. The little part of the sky that peeks through the clouds is blue and infinite, not made of glass and the wind makes the trees move. There was no wind in the Eleven, the moon-tree''s bark was vibrating but the somewhat high grass wasn''t moving in the wind, the branches were glued to each other and didn''t move a single millimeter. This world feels artificial, like it''s not created the same way that the living world is.


    I try to open the window to reach the rain, to see if I can feel the raindrops against my hand. I can''t open it, I hit my fists against the glass and hope that it will shatter, but it''s like I''m hitting steel. The only difference is that I can''t feel anything. It doesn''t hurt, I feel absolutely nothing.

 Chapter 7

    I wake up with my clothes on even though I hung them in the wardrobe yesterday. The yellow sweater, the brown skirt with the suspenders and the black tights. Everything is exactly the way they were before I took them off. Even the dark brown boots are on, the shoelaces are tied in a ribbon. I guess this is yet another thing that happens when you die, stuck in all eternity with the same clothes you had the day you died. I could be worse, I tell myself.


    I slightly pull the brown skirt, I can''t feel the material against my fingers. I can''t even think of how it used to feel. There''s a memory there somewhere, like when you have a word that you forgot on the tip of your tongue.


    I pull up my sleeve and pinch myself, I still feel nothing. Not the feeling of skin against my fingers nor the pain. I pinch harder, nothing happens. Not even a mark is left when I let go. I sigh and get up from the bed and leave the cover pushed against the wall.


    Breakfast. I''m not hungry and probably never will be again. Clover had said that they still ate, maybe they still do it so they can keep some of their humanity left one way or another. To make it feel normal, like it did when we were alive.


    I don''t feel like eating, but if I can sleep without being tired, I can eat without feeling hunger. Besides, Clover is waiting for me, he had told me he would show me the dining hall. I can''t keep myself locked into the room for all eternity even though that is what I would prefer.


    I stand next to the pinboard on the other side of the room and try to ignore the eternal rain on the outside. I look at the photographs.


    I ¨C Jonna. Dad ¨C Mikael. Sister ¨C Emma.


    I repeat it many times. I recognize them and know who they are. All of my memories are still here, nothing is missing from what I knew and could remember from yesterday. I sigh of relief and continue to study the photographs and repeat their names. I think of some memories from my childhood, the forest me and Emma had been in the day I died, of how my dad carved faces of trolls in trees. I move on to the notes, I don''t have any photographs of my mom, but I read the notes multiple times and imagine how she looks like.


    It feels like if I close my eyes I''ll wake up in my apartment in Gothenburg and everything has been a dream. It''s a hopeless wish.


    I force myself to reach the wooden door, on the other side of the darkness there''s no soul wanderers in the labyrinth of corridors. I hadn''t seen anyone yesterday either, it had been just as lonely as today. I close the door and I realize I can''t actually hear the sounds of a smalltown on the outside, like the strange world I walked into doesn''t exist on the outside of this building.


    It doesn''t take a long time to find my way out of the labyrinth of corridors, there''s a feeling that tells me what way to head so I can reach the Eleven again. Clover is outside of the building leaning towards the wall, he doesn''t look annoyed so he can''t have waited too long. The eleven looks like it did yesterday, with its dark blue grass and the black stone slabs that covers the street and with its black-pink glass sky. It doesn''t feel as beautiful today, now it''s like we''re in a glass globe and can''t get out.


    I force a smile for Clover, but it never reaches my eyes.


    "Breakfast," he says, "I''m going to show you the dining hall."


    Clover seems to be done with whatever he did yesterday, since he doesn''t look as tense.


    In my thoughts I repeat my name over and over again while we walk up the small hill covered in the black stone slabs. Clover leads us to narrow streets with tall but slim houses of white stone, they must have been the roofs I had seen behind the trees at the crescent-shaped stairs. Creatures walks past us and some of them nods as a greeting. I also see other soul wanderers, from many different centuries. It feels strange to see so many different styles on people, like they don''t actually dress like that and all this is cosplay. I know better, definitely since I stare at Clover''s back. He looks just as strange as the rest of them, with his coal-marked and torn clothes.


    Clover stops at one of the tall houses that looks like it will fall apart any second.


    "I guess this is the dining hall?" I ask and I''m not at all impressed.


    "Never judge the outer appearance here. You should have realized by now that nothing is as it should," he says and opens the door without knocking.


    It leads to another whirling darkness. When the door closes the corridor is filled with light, the darkness curls upwards and lies like a cloud against the ceiling. The bronze-colored walls are bare except for the old gate in the middle of the corridor.


    "You share the dining hall with the Twelve."


    "The Twelve?" I ask.


    "The twelfth door, the twelfth world."


    "How many worlds are there?"


    It had been hundreds of doors in the darkened corridor. We had stepped right into the middle of it and it was hard to see how many where there. All these doors lead to another world. Do they all look like this, confined in this black-pink glass globe with dark blue grass and strange trees or do some of them look normal?


    Clover stops at the gate. "Many. The Eleven and the Twelve belongs to First."


    "First of what?"


    Clover gives me a side glance that says you ask too much, yet he answers me. "First is a guardian. Whether he is the first guardian I do not know. He names his soul wanderers and worlds after numbers."


    Orchid is not such a bad name anymore, could have been worse. A number would have made me feel more like an experiment, like I didn''t have the right to an identity. Orchid has a meaning and connection; it was the flowers I gave my dad on his funeral. Flowers that he loved, maybe I can accept this name eventually.


    "The rest of the worlds are named after the other guardians. There are a few that aren''t named after them. Not even the guardians know where those names come from, at least that''s what they say." He wrinkles his nose and puts his hands on the large door handles. "I have a hard time believing that. How wouldn''t they know where their own worlds'' names came from?"


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    Clover opens the door and we''re yet again met with darkness, on the other side of it there is a massive hall, it''s more beautiful than what the outside of this building could have you believe. In the middle of the room there are three long and narrow, white tables with very tall chairs, the back of them ends far above the soul wanderers'' head. There''s no table with a buffet, nor fridges or freezers. The walls are covered in strange, colorful paintings. Some of them filled with gemstones that create landscape or what looks like people dressed in eye-catching outfits.


    "Where''s the food?" I ask.


    "On the table."


    When we arrive at the tables one of them folds itself out. It crawls over the floor like a beetle and straightens its back. Two chairs grow out on each side. Clover sits down next to a woman with a pale pink hijab, I sit down opposite of Clover and next to a pale man with blonde hair.


    "I haven''t seen you before," the woman says and gives me a sweet and warm smile.


    She wears make up that brings out her black eyes.


    "She''s new. And my apprentice," clover says, the last words sound a tad bitter.


    The woman slaps her hands against the table and stares wide-eyed at him.


    "Your apprentice?" she asks and laughs, Clover lowers his eyebrows in protest. "I didn''t think you had it in you! They say you haven''t had an apprentice in like forty years!"


    She reaches out her arm to me, it''s covered in a fluffy white shirt. "Artemis."


    I shake her hand.


    "Orchid," I answer, although I meant to say Jonna.


    She let''s go of my hand and leans back against the chair and smiles. "That''s beautiful."


    "Your name is Artemis like the goddess?" I ask.


    "Yes, indeed. That goddess, not that I think we have a lot in common, at least of what I''ve heard." She shakes her head slightly. "Not that there is a lot of logic behind our new names."


    "Cerberus names his soul wanderers after names from religion or mythologies," Clover adds.


    A plate with food suddenly appears in front of him. Beans, bread, and some cut of meat.


    "Cerberus?"


    "Another guardian," says Clover, he tears off a bit of the bread and dips it into the beans.


    There still is no plate with breakfast in front of me, and when I look around I notice that everyone has different dishes.


    "You have to imagine it. See it in front of you," someone says with something hollow in their voice.


    I look straight into the blonde man''s ice blue eyes. They look similar to Blomst, however these seems emptier. He lifts up his arm and points at my empty section of the table, I can''t help but to notice the deep, open cuts on his arms. There''s no blood coming from them even though they are almost wide open. Clover had said that the scars of suicide are left on the body, but I wouldn''t call these scars.


    Before I can thank him, he turns his head away and slowly moves his fork in his own dish, I have a feeling he doesn''t want me to say anything. I focus on the table and think about what I want to eat. I think about my bedroom, that whoever made my room had taken my childhood memories and made me recall when things were easier. Then I mostly drank chocolate milk and ate toasts with raspberry jam. I remember the plastic plate with flowers motives that mom used to give to me and my sister.


    And there it is, exactly the way I remember it, with the pink and yellow flowers on the side of the plate. On top of it lays two toasts with raspberry jam and next to it there''s a glass with chocolate milk. Clover has raised an eyebrow for my choice of breakfast.


    What''s the point with eating? We don''t have any sensation and to not feel the taste is more of an insult. I stare at the toasts with jam, and I try to remember how it tasted when I was a child.


    "Orchid," Artemis says.


    She has a little smile on her lips, it''s not the same as the one before, because that one reached her eyes.


    "Taste and you''ll see."


    I bite off a piece of the toast and I drop the rest and it hits the plate. I can feel the taste. It feels strange against my tongue, like it''s sealed in plastic but somehow the taste is still here. It tastes exactly the way it tasted when I was little. I bring my hand to my mouth and widened my eyes. Clover is grinning when he cuts a piece of the meat and Artemis is smiling again, this time it''s reaching her eyes. I finally understand why they eat even though they don''t feel any hunger.


    "It''s a little hard to get used to not feeling anything, but we do have the taste left. That''s something to value," Artemis says.


    I nod while I eagerly gobble down the food.


    "An apprentice," says Artemis and smiles at Clover who rolls his eyes at her. "That explains why you''re eating with us today."


    "Don''t you normally eat?"


    "Yes, I do eat. But I don''t belong in the Eleven or the Twelve."


    I take a sip of the chocolate milk.


    "He belongs to the Oak," Artemis adds. "And that world belongs to Blomst, not First."


    Clover cuts the piece of meat again. "And I have to say I prefer eating in the Oak''s dining hall."


    Artemis scoffs and shakes her head in disbelief. "Why? It''s like eating in the middle of a forest. With every chair and table being more like trees than they should be, and not to speak of all the plants and birds that chirps day in and day out."


    "But that''s the charm with the Oak."


    Clover talks surprisingly much and doesn''t seem as curt and annoyed when he''s around Artemis.


    "Besides," Artemis says and puts a hand to her chest, "the Oak doesn''t have as interesting soul wanderers as the Eleven."


    "Don''t be so certain of that. There are many interesting soul wanderers." Clover grins and reaches over to her plate with his fork. "Maybe you''re right, the Oak does not after all have any food from Kuwait."


    Artemis slaps Clover''s hand and he pulls it back. He doesn''t show any irritation of the sudden action, instead he laughs. Then he smiles, not a grin but a real smile that reaches his eyes.


    "Maybe if you ask next time, you''ll have better luck. You''ll have to eat your own food," she says and a playful smile sneak upon her mouth.


    "That''s too bad," he chuckles.


    "You just have to learn to ask, Clover," she says.


    His smile dies out when he notices I''m staring at them with a small smirk and raised eyebrows. He moves his gaze away from both me and Artemis.


    He knew I noticed that there isn''t just a friendship between them. First I thought it was beautiful that love could find its way even after death, but then I realize that maybe it''s not that simple. They can''t even feel each other''s touch.


    The big gate opens and a skeleton comes out of the darkness. Just like Wolf-skull it has a human skeleton and an animal skull, this time it''s a deer and large antlers reaches out over its head. It''s dressed in brown rags and when it walks it makes a sound of bone moving against each other.


    The blonde man puts away his cutlery when Deer-skull comes closer. It doesn''t feel as creepy as Wolf-skull, it seems gawkier.


    "Nine," says Deer-skull and the voice is lighter than I had predicted, but the insecurity I had expected.


    The blonde man ¨C whose name apparently is Nine ¨C looks up at the skeleton. Deer-skull moves the bony fingers in the rags'' pockets and pulls forward a brown paper that it gives Nine. I have enough time to read a part of it before he puts it in his pocket.


    SUICIDE HARVEST-CONTRACT: LUCY MILLER


    SOUL WANDERER: NINE


    I want to sigh of relief. I know it''s awful that I''m happy that the girl''s name on the paper isn''t Emma.


    Nine gets up, sweeps his gaze over us before he follows Deer-skull. The chair and breakfast have disappeared.


    "I thought you got the harvest-contract from the guardians," I say as the gate closes.


    I doubt that Deer-skull is one of the guardians, it''s too frail and doesn''t have the same feeling of power that Blomst has. It''s most likely the same kind of creature that Wolf-skull is.


    "Regular harvest-contracts are handled by the guardians," Clover says while he stares at the gate. "A death is almost always part of destiny, so the guardians already know of it before it happens."


    "Years before it happens," Artemis adds.


    "A suicide," Clover continues, "is never planned. They cannot know when it will happen. Such a contract can happen whenever."


    The rest of the breakfast is relatively quiet, like both Clover and Artemis don''t have anything else to say after what just happened.


    I shut out the thoughts of what it means to constantly take care of souls that willingly ended their lives.

 Chapter 8

    Before I went to bed yesterday I only removed my shoes. They had come on by themselves before I fell asleep. I''ve kicked off the covers, they lay at the foot at the bed underneath my boots. I don''t want to get up even though I know that Clover is waiting at the crescent-moon stairs. It''s also where I need to prepare myself for the first contract. That I soon have to reap some poor soul whose life has ended way too early.


    After the breakfast was over, Clover had said that he wouldn''t be waiting outside of the resident building like he had done the day before, instead he would wait at the crescent-moon stairs. We would receive the contracts from Blomst. Contracts. It seemed like it was more than one. I hadn''t dared to ask if we would reap multiple souls. Had Clover reaped a couple of souls before he came for mine? Sometimes it feels like I forget what he is, what Artemis is. And what I am now. They had seemed normal at breakfast, like completely ordinary people. There was something comfortable with Artemis, that she looked like she was from my time. Nine also looked like he hadn''t been dead for a long time, but the empty ice blue eyes made me think that he had seen more than both Artemis and Clover.


    I repeat my family''s names. Every day and night I''ll repeat them, I''ll cling onto their names as long as I can. I have to force myself to remember. I cannot forget.


    It''s a good start that I remember their faces. It doesn''t feel like I''m about to forget something, like my memories are going to stay. It''s too good to be true. I try to say my name out loud ¨C my real name ¨C but it''s hard. It doesn''t come out right, it sounds awkward and unpleasant, and it feels like my tongue is swollen.


    I study the faces. I still recognize them. Emma looks much younger than what she did when I saw her last, when she rocked my corpse back and forth on that dark road. That picture is burnt into my memories and I''m thankful for that. I rather remember it as clear as I can if that means I can keep all my memories. If I can remember her name and how she looks like, that memory is a small price to pay.


    The corridor is as lonely as always. When I reach the Eleven I follow the black stone slabs out of the town and into the singing forest of moon-trees. The beautiful song that the bark is singing sounds more like tragic celebration of death now when I know where I''m heading.


    Clover is waiting below the stairs, his arms are folded over his chest and is in fact not smiling the smile he had given Artemis in the dining hall. Instead, he looks annoyed.


    "Finally," he mutters. "I was just about to go and get you."


    I shrug. "I''m here now."


    He rolls his eyes and make hand gesture that I should follow him. We walk up the white stairs and he doesn''t knock or open the door.


    "You''ll open it this time, better that you get used to opening doors," he says.


    I raise an eyebrow. "I think it''s been a few years since I was taught to open doors."


    He smiles, not the same smile he gave Artemis, yet a smile.


    "I think so too. But these doors are a little different."


    "Magical doors? I''ve figured that out."


    They seem more like portals than doors, I''ve already learnt to not expect anything normal on the other side of them.


    "Doors don''t just lead anywhere, some of them can take you almost anywhere. Others ¨C like this one ¨C have multiple destinations but can''t lead anywhere. Some worlds are forbidden to traverse without permission, no matter the soul wanderer. As an apprentice you''re only allowed in your own world, and places I''m allowed to take you to."


    "I guess it''s not as simple as just opening it?"


    Clover stands aside. "If you do that it will lead you to the corridor of doors, you have to imagine the waiting hall in front of you to be able to reach it."


    I move my hand over the door''s surface and sigh when I can''t feel the white against my fingers.


    "It helps if you knock. Imagine the place, it''s easier if you''ve seen it before and if you haven''t, think about what you''ve learned of the world. When you knock, imagine that the door will lead you do the room or world you''re seeking. The soul wanderer that held my apprenticeship taught me that. All you need to do is to think of the waiting hall."


    "How many times should I knock?"


    He shrugs. "How many times you''d like."


    I thought he had knocked different times for a reason, I feel stupid that I overthink everything he does. I don''t want to show him that I feel embarrassed, and I hope that he won''t notice.


    I knock two times and think about the waiting hall, the seven gates and the stone signs above. How the room rotated like it was formed like an orb, we sat in those chairs for hours. I had no idea what was waiting the first time.


    When I have a clear picture of the hall I open the gate and step forward with Clover. On the other side is the long corridor with the orange lights, this time they are lit up. The dark clouds press against the roof, footprints are created and disappears after a few seconds.


    "This isn''t the waiting hall," I mumble to myself.


    I follow Clover down the long corridor.


    "You always come here if you''re heading to the waiting room. Wolf has to give us a queue ticket."


    "Is that what Wolf-skull''s name is?"


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    "Wolf-skull?" It sounds like he''s holding back a laugh. "Is that what you call him?"


    I give him an annoyed side-glance and ask another question about Wolf, "Is he a creature like the others in the worlds? Or was he a human once?"


    "He''s something in-between. The creatures ¨C or the entities as they often go by ¨C aren''t doing any jobs for the guardians or soul wanderers. The skeletons with the animal-skulls work for the guardians. I think their whole existence relies on them."


    Wolf is next to the large gate and is picking on a thread with his bony fingers, he looks up when we arrive. The orange eyes glows like fire inside of the empty eye sockets.


    "Clover!" says Wolf and reaches out his arms; he moves the glowing eyes over to me. "I remember you, Clover''s new apprentice."


    "Orchid," says Clover.


    I want to correct him and tell him that my name is Jonna but the words aren''t coming out. I open my mouth and close it again. Wolf gives me a sympathetic look.


    "Are you meeting Blomst?" the fingers move back to the thread on his clothes, he pulls at it when he speaks. "What errand?"


    "Contract," Clover says.


    Wolf turns towards the door and stares. That''s the only thing he does until he focuses on Clover again.


    "Done, take a queue ticket."


    Clover is just about to knock on the gate, but Wolf holds up a hand.


    "Wait... Write down the names you want to remember," says Wolf to me.


    I feel a lump in my throat.


    "It doesn''t stop it, eventually you''ll forget. If you write it down, it''ll slow down the process somewhat."


    "Wolf," warns Clover, "You can get in trouble if you¨C"


    "The process with the memories is painful, I''m only giving some advice on what can make it easier. I don''t stop the process. I''m not breaking any rules."


    Although the last words were harsh and confident his fingers move nervously over the thread.


    "Something to think about," says Wolf to me and takes a step back.


    I thank him with a nod, my mouth is dry. I don''t think my voice would hold if I tried to say something.


    "Don''t tell anybody," Clover says when I approach.


    He knocks and a small brown paper comes out of the hatch, he pulls it out and this time he keeps it as he walks through the open gate.


    I look back at Wolf and I don''t see any doubt or a sign that he regrets what he told me, even though I saw the nervosity before. I follow Clover and the gate slams shut. We''re in a hall I''ve never seen before, it''s smaller than what I had imagined when I knocked on the door in the Eleven. But there is no question that this is a waiting hall. It''s the same orb-like room where soul wanderers are waiting on chairs close to the walls.


    "We''re in Blomst''s own waiting hall," says Clover


    We sit down at the chairs that just grew out of the floor, they look like logs but are the form of a stool. The walls are covered with greenery and branch, as well as flower that are vibrating a few seconds and then they spin twice and start vibrating again. There aren''t as many soul wanderers here as in the large waiting hall, but there are about a hundred of them.


    We''re in the waiting hall in what feels like a half an hour, there is no clock here and it''s hard to know how long it has been. I know that it''s almost our turn when I start seeing the other side.


    It''s only one gate this time and it''s made of old wood. On the walls flowers and vines are growing closely together, some branches remind me of gnarly and thin, desperate hands trying to reach the gate. The number on the wooden sign above changes to twenty-three, the number on Clover''s card. This time the gate opens slowly for us and displays the same whirling darkness. On the other side it''s the same room as the first time, dressed in greenery and wood. Blomst sits at her desk and looks through papers with uninterested eyes. She slightly moves her hand, and two chairs slowly grows out of the floor.


    "Sit," she says, and we do as we''re told.


    She looks like she did the first time I saw her, but there is something tense underneath the light skin.


    "You''re late," she says with a forced smile.


    "We couldn''t make the room go any faster," Clover says.


    She glares at him. "Alas, I''m not in a mood for these kinds of games today, Clover."


    If I wasn''t laying in bed and dreading this, we would have been here earlier. I hope that we''re not the reason for her dark mood. She smiles again, it looks tense and forced.


    "What has happened?" Clover asks and leans back.


    "Too much," she says and breathes deeply through her nose, "All too much"


    Whatever happened it has her on a very bad mood, I can even feel it in the air, a heavy feeling that pushes me further into the chair.


    She forces a smile. "Oh, but do things ever go right?"


    "Rarely," Clover answers.


    "All too seldom," she sighs.


    She puts her elbows against the papers and clasp her fingers together. She closes her eyes and seem deep in thought. It takes a few seconds before she opens them again. The air doesn''t feel as heavy, like she forced all the negativity out of this room.


    "The first contract for your apprentice," she pauses, "Or well, it''s Clover''s contract. But Orchid will be there and watch. Get paid even."


    "Paid?"


    She smiles with her teeth. "Of course. I''m sure you''ve already seen the entities in the Eleven, there are places where you can pay with soul-dust. You can see this as a paid internship, or whatever you humans call it."


    "What is soul-dust?"


    "It''s a part of a human''s soul."


    I don''t dare to say what I''m thinking, but she sees right through me.


    "It''s not dangerous for the soul. It''s like..." She ponders for a while before she continues, "like giving blood at a hospital. It won''t hurt nor weaken the soul in any way. We take such a small part that it won''t make any difference, so you can be calm."


    Clover is picking on one of his nails, he has probably already heard everything she has to say.


    "So, it doesn''t hurt the soul at all?" I ask.


    Blomst sighs deeply and I can hear how Clover just manages to hold back a laugh.


    "Of course not, we wouldn''t have let the entities use it as their currency if that was the case. You take such a small part that nothing will change."


    "If you touch it, you can sometimes feel them," Clover adds half dramatic and Blomst scowls.


    "And it''s not dangerous," she reminds us, but mostly me.


    I grimace. "It just feels a little... vulgar."


    "It''s not."


    "At least we don''t devour the souls like The Fractured Ones." Clover''s face is wrinkled like he tasted something sour.


    I don''t dare to ask about whatever The Fractured Ones are.


    Blomst glares at Clover. "No matter what the condemned entities do or don''t, we''re not them. You don''t need to feel either shame or guilt for taking such a small part of a soul, Orchid."


    I''m not so certain that I''m alright with taking something from a soul, it still feels vulgar.


    Blomst gives us a satisfied smile and puts three stone tablets on the desk. "You have three contracts today. Most of the time it is between five and fifteen per day, but since Orchid is new, I was thinking it would be better to begin with three."


    At first glance the three stone tablets seem to be blank, but if I focus I can see something written over them. It is names, humans and both of mine and Clovers. I''m under Apprentice and Clover is under Soul wanderer-contract. Date, time of day and place are also written on the tablets.


    Clover puts them over each other and takes each in his hands, it takes a few seconds before they disappear.


    "Good luck," Blomst says and gives us her satisfied smile.


    She puts a stone on the desk. It looks like the stone Clover had tried to use on me, but this one doesn''t shine in the beautiful blue glow. I know that it doesn''t belong to Clover and that this one is mine, that I am expected to use it. I carefully pick up the stone in my palm.


    "May you have a good harvest," she adds softly.

 Chapter 9

    I hadn''t expected that the first contract would lead us straight to a river, we''re standing right in the middle ¨C on top of the water. It isn''t even moving under Clover''s shoes, but for me every step feels like I''m about to fall into the cold depth of the river.


    I gently touch the stone Blomst gave me. I let it slide through my fingers, imagining how it would feel against my fingertips if I was alive. It''s in my skirt pocket until I have to use it, something I don''t look forward to.


    A body floats downstream, its white-clad torso bopping above the water''s surface. It doesn''t have the blue glow that Emma had, but neither can I see the soul.


    Clover sighs heavily. He bends forward over the body, reaches down and grabs the t-shirt. With a steady and forceful grip he pulls out the very soul of the now life-less shell. It''s a man in his thirties with strong Eastern European features. Even though his head has been under water his hair is as dry as gravel on a warm summer day. He looks around with confusion while the solid, dead body floats downstream.


    "Where am I?" the man asks in perfect Swedish.


    We''re in the middle of a broad river and are surrounded by trees on each side. It can be anywhere.


    Clover''s grip around the t-shirt is strong, in his free hand one of the stone tablets appears.


    "Igor Volkov," Clover reads out loud.


    He has never read or said my name out loud. I''m jealous that this man gets to hear it one last time from someone else''s lips. I can''t even utter mine without it sounding awkward and wrong.


    The man widens his eyes. "How do you know my name?"


    "Because you''re dead and I''m here to harvest your soul," Clover says in a calm and composed tone.


    "Are you death?"


    "I am."


    Clover had shown me this side as well. He had been cold and indifferent, now he''s even more unpleasant. When he came for my soul it seemed like there was some sort of mercy in him, this Clover in front of me ¨C the one who has an iron grip around the dead man''s collar ¨C has no emotions. This was how I''d imagined death. Composed, calm and ruthless.


    Igor kicks and hits until Clover''s grip loosens, and he falls down into the depth. Clover quickly submerges his whole arm. He pulls the man up again with an iron grip around the hair. Igor is as dry as he was before but Clover''s jacket sleeve is soaked. I stare down at the river. If I focus enough, then maybe I can break this invisible barrier.


    "I don''t want to die!" the man cries.


    "You''re already dead," says Clover.


    The black stone tablet disappear from his free hand, he moves it over to the man''s throat and grabs it tightly before he let go of the disheveled hair. He brings forth the stone with its blue gleam and holds it up.


    "Go to hell!" Igor yells and spits in Clover''s face.


    I take a step closer and glance at Clover, he pulls the sleeve over his face to wipe away the spit. He hadn''t given me a choice either. Blomst told me the possibility to stay existed, but he pushed that stone into my face and waited for me to give in. It was only when he couldn''t take my soul that he told me I could stay.


    Clover moves his open hand towards Igor again. The stone vibrates in a way I''ve never seen and it opens like it had split into two parts. Half of the stone floats upwards and a vortex of blue dust swirls around itself between the two halves. The man narrows his eyes and grinds his teeth.


    "Nothing will happen if you don''t accept it," Clover says and eases his grip around Igor''s throat, "it will close, and I will not take your soul."


    The man stops trying to get away from Clover and stares at him.


    "Will I live again?"


    He already knows the answer but was still able to force himself to ask the question. I can see the little hope in his eyes that''s left, even though deep down he knows it''s impossible.


    "No, you''ll become a water specter if you stay here and then you''ll never know peace again."


    "And if I let you take my soul?"


    "You''ll be reborn or you''ll move on."


    I''m surprised that he''s so honest, he never was with me.


    "Move on?"


    "Paradise, heaven, whatever you think eternal happiness is."


    Igor moves the mournful and hopeless gaze to the swirling blue dust between the stone halves. It opens wider. Slowly, painfully slowly, the man''s shape changes. It starts with his face that shift into light blue gleaming dust, like stars on a night sky. You can see the form of a face ¨C an unbelievable mournful, hopeless face. It continues down his body, eventually there''s only the form of a human in a glittery cloud of light blue dust. Clover pulls out his hand out of the body, the face slowly floats in between the stone halves and dances around the rest of the gleaming dust, thereafter the body does the same. When the form of the man is completely gone the stone halves float back together and become one. It falls into Clover''s open palm.


    It leaves an empty feeling in my chest, but I can''t let go of the thought that it looked like some kind of poetic dance.


    "Your stone, take it out."


    His voice is still cold and detached, like he hasn''t yet removed the mask. I still have my fingers around the stone, it feels heavier against my hand. I take it out of my pocket and hold out my open palm. Clover takes my stone between the thumb and the index finger, he lays it next to the it in his other hand. Both opens and a small part of the blue dust is transferred over to mine.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Clover hands me my stone. "A small part of the soul-dust from Igor Volkov."


    It now has a weak blue shine to it, I put it back in my pocket and close my hand over it again.


    "Are you usually like this when you harvest?"


    "No, only for some. You notice quickly what kind of soul wanderers the dead needs. Igor needed to feel fear and anger, otherwise he wouldn''t have accepted that we took his soul. He would have felt too safe if I comforted him, when he realized he didn''t have much of a choice, he let us take his soul."


    "Isn''t that manipulation?"


    Maybe I don''t have a right to judge him on this when I was constantly carrying a mask out of pride when I was alive.


    Clover moves his fingers over the stone. "Maybe. But a water specter is worse than most specters, it wouldn''t be a nice after life for neither Igor or the people that would run into him. He would have drowned them if he became strong enough. And they always do."


    I shiver of the thought that someone ¨C something ¨C underneath the surface is looking to cause the same death itself had gone through. Maybe Clover had done Igor a favor.


    "I did the same thing with you," he says after a long time of silence.


    "What do you mean?"


    My voice doesn''t hold, it feels like something is crawling under my skin when he is staring at me like that. I already knew he had played something else when he came for my soul, that part had been obvious. I''m not sure I want to know more.


    When Clover finally says something, it feels like we''ve stood here for an eternity. "You were hurt and miserably alone. You blamed yourself, thought it was your fault that you ended up in a car accident, that you died and left your sister to handle everything herself. If you had listened to her and not argued she would have been more aware of the road and seen the truck coming sooner, or if you had persuaded her to stay. If you had been wearing your seatbelt."


    He mentions all of my inner, painful thoughts I have and had that night. My mouth feels bone-dry and my eyes are burning.


    "How do you know that?" I try to make my voice sound steady.


    "You didn''t have to say anything. You''re connected to the ones you harvest and feel their emotions and thoughts. When you have reaped for one hundred years you start to understand the souls'' torments. I gave you what you needed. I let you mourn your sister and see what you needed to see, and I didn''t say a word of what it meant to follow me. Because you would have stayed on that dark country road. And a hurt, lonely and self-pitying road specter was the worst thing you could be, so I played my game."


    My chest hurt and my eyes are burning, I open my dry mouth to protest. "I would have said yes if you told me the truth."


    "Would you really?" He doesn''t believe me. "If you knew that it would mean all this, would you have said yes?"


    I can''t answer. I''d started to think I would say yes, but I can''t be sure anymore.


    "Where are we?" I''m able to force out, anything to kill this uncomfortable conversation and mood between us.


    Clover looks down the stream. "The river Volga, in Russia."


    "Did Igor speak Russian?"


    My voice still feels fragile.


    "Yes, he did. You hear Swedish because that''s your mother tongue. When you speak to me I hear English."


    "Are you American?"


    "English," he answers.


    I should have realized that it was not logical that everyone I met was from Sweden or talked Swedish. Clover had even mentioned Kuwait when spoke about Artemis'' breakfast. Which meant that Artemis most likely heard everything spoken in Arabic.


    I know that the reason why we''re going down this river and having this shallow conversation is to remove this mood between us before we head to the next contract. He was right in everything he said, the thoughts I had on that dark road are still haunting me. I often think about what I could have done to stop it. I remember what Clover had said, that death is always part of destiny, unless it has something to do with suicide. There''s no point in worrying about the past because it''s written in stone. Yet I can''t stop.


    We arrive at the next place too early, and we have to wait in what feels like hours. According to Clover it''s only been an hour. It''s on a narrow asphalt road in the forest, I don''t need to ask to know that a car accident will happen.


    We''re sitting in a ditch and waiting, Clover gives me the second stone tablet with the white writing.


    "This time it''s four," he says and points a finger at the names.


    Mary and David Johnson, it says they are thirty-seven and forty, married. The other two is Heather and Joseph Wilson, they are seventeen and forty-one.


    "USA, Kentucky," I read out loud. "Will you hear them in British or American English?"


    "As long as I can understand them, I''ll hear them in their American accent."


    If it was that easy I should be able to hear Clover speak English instead of Swedish, yet I don''t.


    "How long do we have to sit here?"


    "Five more minutes according to the stone tablet. Sometimes the time can change."


    "I thought you said that death was always part of destiny?"


    "Yes, but the time isn''t always right. Death will always happen, but it can shift a few minutes. The only thing that can stop death is a Stormcoin."


    He goes silent for a while.


    "You know, Orchid," I try to not look gloomy when he mentions my new name, "you ask a lot of questions."


    "You did say I could ask as many questions as I wanted ," I remind him.


    "Hm, that was yesterday."


    Everything is different here compared to the Eleven. The grass is green, and the bark isn''t giving off any strange melodies. Here the wind sweeps through the trees and shakes my hair even though I don''t have a body. If we weren''t waiting for death to sweep by and take four people''s lives, I would close my eyes and try and remember how it felt when the wind caressed my cheek. Now it feels like if I close my eyes I''ll miss the crash, something I probably would prefer than having to relive it again.


    "I understand why you have so many questions," he says.


    "Oh?"


    "You''ve stepped into a completely different world. It makes sense to have questions."


    "Did you ask a lot of things when you first arrived?" I ask and he smiles like he remembered something.


    "It was a hundred and ten years ago, but I remember I asked so many questions that the Raven almost lost his mind."


    "Is the Raven a skeleton. Like Wolf?"


    It''s hard to imagine a skeleton with a raven skull as a head.


    "No, he was a soul wanderer like us. One of the oldest."


    I don''t dare to ask what he meant with that the Raven was a soul wanderer. I pull my knees against my chest. I listen to all of the forest''s calm sounds. The sound of the wind against the trees, the birds'' chirping, and the insects'' song. The Eleven has no such sounds, nothing that makes me feel like I fit in or feel at home.


    It doesn''t stay calm for very long, the sound of cars fills the forest. Clover stands up and makes a gesture with his head that tells me to get up from the ditch.


    It happens so quickly that I barely see it. How they try to break but aren''t early enough, how they drive to the side like Emma did but somehow ends up colliding into each other.


    There''s glass and blood, it''s similar to the scene I woke up to after dying. Now it''s bright outside and I can see everything with clearer eyes. I try to put up an indifferent wall that makes it so I can handle this without emotions and empathy. It''s hard, impossible even, but then I notice it, this feeling of death.


    It''s not supposed to feel like this. When Clover harvested Igor it was unpleasant, but this is something completely else. A taste of something burnt. The pressure around my eyes are so aggressive that it feels like they''re going to fall out. This feels wrong.


    "There are four people, if you find one of them you can use the stone," Clover says; he sounds strained.


    "Wasn''t I just supposed to watch?"


    "That was the plan, yes. But a soul has shattered, they do that sometimes in violent and sudden deaths. Besides," he says and his voice breaks. "I thought I saw one of the Fractured. We have to find the souls ¨C quickly. If you run into a Fractured one, don''t trust a word it says, they lie for every breath they take."


    "What am I supposed to do?" I ask when Clover gets out of the ditch.


    Both my eyes and skin are stinging. In some twisted way I prefer this eerie, foul and painful feeling that crawls right into my bones over feeling nothing at all.


    "Search," Clover snarls.

 Chapter 10

    The forest is abhorrently quiet, the wind itself has stopped and every animal and insect fled the moment the crash occurred. The further in the forest I am the more I can feel it, this feeling that crawls inside my skin and settles like some kind of parasite. I don''t know if it''s because of the Fractured Ones presence or the shattered soul. Nor am I aware of what I''m actually looking for, Clover wasn''t much help. He couldn''t even tell me what I was supposed to look for or what I should do when I find it.


    It feels heavier to breathe and warmer the further in I get, but at the same time my teeth are almost chattering because of the cold.


    "Hello?!" I call out and hope that whatever I''m looking for will come to me.


    I hear someone wailing. She''s not coming closer. It feels like I''m about to boil from the inside while the outside is turning to ice. A frosty gloss covers my hands. Whatever this is it can hurt the soul. Would I have been safe if I had a body, or would it have been just as bad?


    I close my hand around the stone in my pocket. How can I convince the woman to let me take her soul if she''s been shattered into multiple pieces? If that''s even what shattered means. Clover hadn''t said anything, just told me to search.


    The pain is throbbing in rhythm over my skin. I support my body against a tree when I finally find her. She doesn''t look human, not like the Russian man that died in the river. This woman ¨C if I can even call her that, she doesn''t look older than eighteen ¨C looks like a monster. Her eyes are widened, and the mouth is open in a way that makes it look like her jaw has been dislocated. I force myself to stay by the tree when she slowly moves forward. She''s hovering above the ground and the injuries that occurred in the crash is still left on her body. Whatever happened to her it scarred her soul.


    Her anguished scream fills the entire forest, it makes my head pound and ache so aggressively I can barely stand up. The dark mouth is still open when she''s done. Then she starts wailing. I hold a hand against the tree, unsure of what to do. But I have to do something.


    "I''m here to help you," I say through the pain.


    I''m burning up from the inside and I can barely breathe in this cold. The girl slowly turns her gaze and stares at me with an open mouth and widened eyes. A mocking laugh is heard. It doesn''t come from the girl, it comes from above. I tear my gaze from her and look up at the tree.


    The grey creature sitting on the branch has cracks all over its body, and the completely black eyes are large and round. It looks like a human child ¨C ten or eleven years old. Dark hair hangs down its face and it wears a pair of brown, worn shorts.


    "I would not look away," it says.


    I look at the girl again, she has already moved to attack and is flying with an incredible speed towards me with her arm reached out. I don''t have the time to move out of the way before her cold, yet burning hand is around my throat. She pushes me to the ground. Frost is growing around us when she lowers her head closer to mine. The creature in the tree is laughing and the hand is burning and choking me. All I can see is the dark gape and she screams. It feels like my head is about to explode.


    I''m scared of what it means to die a second time when I only have my soul left, no human vessel to protect the innermost and most fragile part of me. I feel her hands around my throat, the cold and burning fingers and nails that pushes through my frail skin.


    "Boring, boring," I hear the creature in the tree call out between the screams. "Don''t all soul wanderers have a soul stone?"


    I reach my hand into my pocket while I push the other against the girl''s collarbones, it almost burns my hand stuck into her sizzling hot skin. I hold back a scream when I grab the soul stone. She moves her face closer and I can smell death. I push the stone as hard as I can against her cheek, it glows between my fingers and her skin. She screams again, this time it sounds more painful ¨C like I hurt her. She moves away from me before she flees deeper into the woods.


    I lay still on the ground and breathe deeply. I look up at the tree and the boy is still sitting on the branch dangling his grey legs.


    "Would you look at that. You do have a soul stone."


    "Shut up," I mutter and close my eyes tightly.


    The injuries caused by the scorching hand and the nails that dug into my soul, are left.


    "Still, that went well," the creature says, it sounds like it''s closer than it was before.


    I open my eyes. It stands in front of me and when it grins I notice that the mouth is filled with small, sharp teeth.


    "To send out a new soul wanderer against a shattered soul, what are the guardians thinking?" it says and clicks its tongue three times.


    "How would they know," I snap back, even if I know Clover literally told me to search for the monster, even though there wasn''t anything human left in that soul.


    I slowly sit up while my body is aching.


    "I can feel it on a distance before it has even happened," it says proudly, like this is some sort of competition.


    "You''re lying."


    "Me? Lie? I never lie," it says and grins with its sharp teeth.


    I gently touch my throat; it''s still hurts every time I touch it.


    "That''s not what I''ve heard," I say and get up from the ground.


    "Then you''ve heard wrong."


    I move further into the forest, where I saw the girl disappear.


    "Where are you going?" it asks.


    Every step I take send a painful shiver through my back.


    "Are you looking for her again?"


    I''m hoping it will stop following me if I ignore it. The forest is dark even though it''s in the middle of the day and the feeling of the heat and cold intrudes once again. My legs feel heavy, like they''re made of lead.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    "Because it went so well last time," the creature continues.


    "And now I know how to handle it." I curse under my breath that I answered it.


    "Thanks to me I might add, you wouldn''t have had a soul left if I hadn''t said anything."


    I roll my eyes.


    "You would have been ash in the wind," it says dramatically and I don''t need to look behind me to know that its grinning.


    The frost grows around my fingers again and inside of me it feels like I''m burning. She''s close.


    "What''s your name? Soul wanderers have such silly names, like flowers or numbers or something. Shall I call myself sixteen, add another X for extra personality? Sixxteen. With two X."


    I cannot stand it anymore; I turn around and glare at him. "Oh my god, is it impossible for you to shut up for two minutes?!"


    The creature grins like it just won a game I didn''t even want to participate in.


    I tense up when I hear the familiar wailing.


    "She''s here," sings the creature. "Do you know what to do?"


    The truth is I have no idea what to do with this soul. But the stone hurt her and if I hurt her once, I can hurt her again.


    When I don''t answer the creature grimaces and puts the cracked hands in the pockets of the torn shorts.


    "Take out the stone right away, it will open when she''s close. You can catch the soul if you come close enough with a stone that is fully open. Child''s play."


    I take out the stone from my pocket and it opens like Clover''s had done at the Russian river.


    "Why are you helping me?"


    The creature shrugs. "Because it''s entertaining? Besides we don''t have any use of souls that have shattered. I''ll pick up the parts that haven''t been distorted later unless your friend already has taken them. Anyway, a lose shattered soul only do unnecessary damage in the human world. Better to deal with them."


    It knows I''m not alone, which means it has spied on us before the accident. Why it decided to follow me instead of Clover I don''t dare to ask, besides there''s a chance I''ll get an annoying answer back.


    "How do I convince her to let me take her soul?" I ask now when it wants to be so strangely helpful.


    The creature frowns and blinks with its large, black eyes. "You don''t need to convince her. She''ll be forced in."


    "That''s not what I''ve heard. Souls have to accept it."


    The creature makes a grimace that''s hard to read. "Regular souls, yes. A shattered soul has absolutely no use for either us or the guardians. So you can force them in since they''re already so distorted and broken that it won''t make any difference. And no, you can''t save them," he says amused, "since you seem the type to think that."


    I''m just about to ask what he means with that, but the stone opens completely.


    "Time to hunt. Try to keep your soul intact."


    The creature points at the stone and thereafter climbs up the tree with a flexibility that reminds me of a cat.


    I take a deep breath and hold up the soul stone, the little soul-dust from Igor Volkov is moving around in a vortex between the halves. I can see her now, how she circles the trees beyond the meadow and observes me. When she touches the bark frost grows upon it and disappears when she moves away. I refuse to avert my gaze from the tormented soul. I had done that mistake once and I won''t make it again. The pain around my throat reminds me of the scorching and cold hand, the fingers that forced themselves into my skin. I can''t let it happen again, but I don''t know how to lure her closer. I want to look up at the creature in the tree and ask what the hell I''m supposed to do. I''m aware I can''t do that, not unless I want her hands on me again. But it would make her get closer, close enough that the stone can capture her soul.


    It''s risky and no doubt downright foolish ¨C and it''s the only thing I can do. I relax my body and calm my nerves. I quickly look up at the creature in the tree. It raises its eyebrows, then it grins with its sharp teeth. I don''t know if it''s grinning because it thinks I''m dumb enough to look away a second time or if it knows what I''m planning.


    She screams and flies towards me in the same incredible, inhuman speed and her hand is around my neck within seconds. I''m pushed to the ground and the stone falls from my hand and ends up somewhere in the meadow. I can''t see it, but there is a blue shine between the green grass. I push one hand against the girl''s scalding throat, the other I reach towards the blue light.


    I dig my nails into the frozen dirt and with desperate motions I try to get closer, but the tight grip around my throat keeps me in place. She leans closer and screams. It feels like my entire body is shaking, like something gets deep inside of me and destroys me from the inside and the most fragile part of me.


    I see grey legs with black, thick cracks. A hand that picks something up from the meadow and she screams again, high enough that it feels like the world will shatter. The hand around my throat turns to soul-dust, she stares at me with the widened eyes of sorrow and wrath before her face also turns to blue, gleaming dust. Then she''s no more, and I lay still in the meadow with a burning and frozen throat. I breathe in the air of death, cold and heat. There is a layer of frost over me. My chest is burning like everything inside of me have turned to ice.


    "A Disappointment," says the creature.


    He crouches down next to me and isn''t grinning this time. In his hand he''s holding my stone and for a moment I''m wondering if he''ll steal it to devour the soul-dust inside. But he doesn''t, he lays it beside me and gets up.


    "Well then, you''re welcome for the second time," he says before he leaves.


    The stone is closed with a weak shine coming from it. My throat is burning but I''m alive, not in the same way that I once was ¨C but I exist.


    I grab the stone. I can''t feel it anymore. No cold nor heat, except on my throat. There I can still feel the frozen, burning hand.


    I stare at the trees and the sky. I don''t know how long I''ve laid here. I don''t have the energy to get up and look for Clover. The ice and frost around the trees and meadow have disappeared. The feeling on my throat is still there, there are no other sign that she has been here.


    "Orchid," a familiar voice calls out.


    Clover. I can''t bear to stand up. I raise a hand to show him that I hear him and that I still exist.


    He stands in front of me and looks down at my throat with a frowned expression. Apparently, it doesn''t just feel awful ¨C it seems like it also is visible.


    "How bad is it?" I ask and points at my throat.


    "It''s not going to be there forever," is all he says, like it would explain how it looks like. "Why didn''t you run?"


    Did he really ask me that, after what he said? I glare at him but can''t bear to sit up.


    "You told me to search," I remind him.


    "I meant the other souls. A shattered soul is even hard for me to deal with."


    "You should have been more careful to explain it then," I snap.


    I sit up. It''s aching from the inside, but on the outside, I feel nothing at all ¨C except on my throat.


    It looks like Clover tries to find something to say, he shakes his head and crouches down.


    "You''re right, I should have. I''m sorry." It sounds like he means it. "I was stressed. In hundred years I''ve only run into two shattered souls before... and I... How did you survive?"


    The question makes a shiver run up my back.


    "Sixxteen," I answer and grimace of pain, "A small little thing with cracked skin."


    Clover stands up. "I didn''t think the Fractured Ones had names... or that they helped others."


    "What do I know? He basically made fun of our names and said that his name was Sixteen."


    Clover makes a grossed-out groan and folds his arms over his chest, yet there is a noticeable worry in his dark eyes. I decide not to ask what it means, and frankly I don''t care. My throat is burning violently, and I''d rather leave the forest.


    I slowly stand up and try not to fall apart when it feels like my legs are as fragile as glass.


    "Did you find the other souls?" I ask and he takes out his stone, without thinking I give him mine.


    "Yes, but one of them refused no matter what I said to him."


    It has to be the dad to the shattered soul, he would look for her for an eternity and never do any progress.


    A part of the soul-dust is transferred to my stone and when it''s done he gives it back to me. I can''t see the little grey creature anywhere. I imagine that he''ll be in the same tree as I first saw him, but when we''re on our way back its branches are empty.


    Clover''s gaze wanders down to my throat. I would like to see how it looks like.


    "We have a contract left. I can take you back to the Eleven if you can''t handle anything else. I''ll contact you later when Blomst has time, she''ll need to see that."


    I''m too exhausted to answer him with words so I nod at his suggestion, and hope that that''s enough.


    He brings forth the orange stone and the gate folds out in the middle of the forest. "I''ll take you right away to your room."


    I''m thankful that I don''t have to force myself to continue with the contracts that are left, I''ve had enough of death for today.

 Chapter 11

    Half of my throat is covered in ice and frost, it looks like you could break it apart. The other half is filled with blisters and red marks. You can see the holes where the girl''s nails dug in, they remind me of Nine''s arm. No blood, just open cuts that reaches deep into the skin. I touch them gently. I whimper when it sends out waves of pain.


    I can''t stop thinking about how close I was to dying ¨C again. Can I even call it dying if I''ve already died once and don''t have a body to return to? It makes me think of all the dangers there are that can make me fear death again. All these questions makes my head spin and I have no answers.


    It''s been over a day. Clover said he would contact me when Blomst had time, but I haven''t heard from either of them. I''ve stayed at my room since then. I haven''t been in the dining hall or seen if there was any other contract that I needed to take part in. I''ve gone out in the corridor, but I''ve never dared to take the last steps that leads me to the Eleven.


    When I slept, I dreamt of her. The cold and scorching hands against my throat, the smell of death and the scream that shook my entire soul. The pain and the disgusting injury around my throat are constant reminders.


    I remove my hands from my skin. It''s impossible to hide, everyone will know that Clover''s apprentice was stupid enough to try and handle a shattered soul on her second contract. It wasn''t even my contract; it was Clover''s job to deal with it and I stole it. Not because I wanted to, but because I believed that Clover wanted me to handle this monster. Instead, it was one of the Fractured that saved me. I had to accept help from some obnoxious, greedy creature that devours souls ¨C and he called me a disappointment. If it hadn''t been for this specific creature I wouldn''t exist now, or I would have been such a shattered and distorted version of myself that Clover would have to reap my soul too, if it was even possible.


    There was no point in hiding the wound. If I can''t even take off my shoes, I doubt I can put on a scarf or some other article of clothing. It would disappear from my body within minutes.


    I don''t want to look at my reflection another second. I sit down in front of the pinboard and focuses on the photographs and the comments mom has written. Jonna. Emma. Mikael. Kristina. I repeat the names like always. I sit there for ten minutes, a while I wonder if I should grab a notebook and write down the names like Wolf had told me to do. But I decide to leave the room. I don''t care about what others will say when they see this disgusting injury on my throat, I must get out of here.


    When I step out of the building I look up at the black-pink glass sky. I think about how blue and endless the sky had felt in the forest, when I laid in the meadow and looked up at the crowns of the trees.


    The creatures stare at me ¨C or rather my throat. Let them stare, I think. What is the point in staying inside and hide? Gossip tends to go from mouth to mouth no matter what.


    I study how the well reaches out through the glass globe, how the blue liquid floats like a waterfall on the sides of the tower. Clover had said that most didn''t go there. Not that it was forbidden.


    I push myself through the crowd. There are surprisingly many today, both creatures and soul wanderers. I go further than I ever gone, past the dining hall''s building and up another hill that leads out of town. When I stand at the top I can see everything beyond the settlement. There are some buildings that looks like farmhouses, in the paddock stands a few animals that are gazing in the dark blue grass. They look like black cows with long, painted horns formed as spirals. The houses are made of the same white stone material as the other buildings I''ve seen here, but the roofs are made of straw. The black stone slabs lead down to the farm, but they are far apart and dark blue grass grows between them. Further away you can see woods of moon-trees, beyond that lies the well that looks even bigger from this angle.


    I can see myself in the black stone slabs. My throat is looking worse every hour, like the blisters are about to spread down the shoulders. I shut out that thought, if it really had been that dangerous then Clover would have taken me directly to Blomst and not left me in my room for almost two days. At least I hope so, but after it starts to look worse rather than better, I start to doubt.


    When I finally arrive at the moon-forest I listen to the tragic melody the bark is singing for me. I don''t get relatively far before I hear voices. A man and a woman''s, both sound human. I''ve heard the creatures speak before, it''s always something different in them. Sometimes it sounds like there are multiple voices on top of each other, other times there''s a darkness in them. Some of them reminds me of how it sounded like before Clover took me through the first gate, when our voices echoed throughout the entire world. When we went through something changed, it felt more human. Mine and Clover''s voices were normal, but everything still felt wrong. Like my room, it looked exactly how it did when I was a child, like I had walked into a forgotten memory I''d put to the side. But it was wrong. It shouldn''t have been so flawless, when I very well know that this is not my childhood''s bedroom. It''s just a copy ¨C a flawless one, but a copy nonetheless.


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    I focus on the voices again. The woman''s voice is cold and the man''s strange. It sounds like he''s speaking against fabric or his hand, like his voice is muffled by something. The tone and feeling in his voice is clear. Angry and fast, it also hides a tiredness behind it. Not the same kind that you feel when you haven''t slept in a while. This was a depleted, exhausted feeling of defeat.


    The voices lead me deeper into the woods, away from the road to the well. Stone slabs ¨C grey, not black ¨C takes me forward. Someone has tied golden strings in the moon-trees'' branches like a fence that shuts out the rest of the forest.


    A small meadow lies in front of me. The place is surrounded by the golden strings, and at the edge, near one of the trees, are two white occupied chairs and a table. I''ve seen the woman in the dining hall, she looks a few years younger than me. The blonde hair hangs down her back with a small braid braided from both sides of her head. She''s dressed in a blue, medieval dress.


    The other chair is occupied by something that almost makes me laugh. I even recognize it, it''s from a children''s tv-show that I and Emma used to watch when we were kids. The fur is light brown and there aren''t any thumbs on the big paws. Its eyes are small and black, and the mouth is connected with the big black nose. On the table there is a wooden bowl filled with a thick, brown stew. I can feel the negative energy that he is releasing, it even makes me feel drained. Not in the same way Blomst''s negativity had come out of her, it had been stronger and much more tangible. This was a man drained of all energy because he''d been stuck in a bear suit since he died. He must have realized early that he couldn''t get out of it and that it would come back on if he tried.


    I swallow my laughter; it doesn''t feel as funny and ridiculous anymore.


    "How do you expect me to eat this?" the man in the bear suit says and I can pretty much hear him growl out of annoyance.


    "How you eat it is not my problem. You asked me to get you something from the dining hall and I did," says the woman.


    "You could have chosen something that''s easier to eat than a fucking stew."


    "Oh, is that so? Next time you can get your own dinner."


    I take a step closer when they haven''t noticed me yet, not that I know why I''m here. The best would be if I let them be.


    The bear turns his large head and stares at me, the mouth in an eternal smile. I feel the irritation and the tiredness behind the costume, and I can see the hands move inside of the large paws, too big to grab something without difficulties.


    "What the hell?" he mutters.


    I don''t have to see his real eyes to know that he is staring at my disgusting throat.


    "Shattered soul," the woman mumbles, "and against an apprentice it seems."


    She smiles. It doesn''t reach the cold eyes, but the corners of her mouth are curled upwards while she wipes away dirt from the beautiful dress. Even though she''s a few years younger than me her dark blue eyes look ancient.


    "Yes, apparently I didn''t get the memo that it was a really bad idea to deal with them," I joke, it sounds more serious than I''d planned.


    "Downright awful, actually. I''ve heard," the woman says.


    There''s an uncomfortable feeling that lays upon me, one that makes my body tense up.


    "What the hell is a shattered soul?" the bear asks impatiently.


    "A soul whose soul is shattered, Rampion," she says and for a moment it looks like one of her eyebrows are slightly raised.


    "Don''t you think I got that from the name?"


    There''s something familiar in the way he speaks ¨C an accent I''ve heard when we spent the summers in a cabin in V?rmland. The one we used to rent a few weeks every year when me and Emma were little.


    The woman sighs. "When a soul shatters it creates a wailing wraith that destroys everything it touches. Howling, horrendous entities that are created through a violent and sudden death. Is that enough or should I continue?" The last words are filled with annoyance.


    The bear ¨C or Rampion as the woman called him ¨C waves with his large paw as an answer.


    "You should put something on that, or it will continue to grow," she says and hits two fingers lightly against her throat.


    "It grows?" I ask and gently put my hands against the blisters that cover half of my throat, I grimace out of pain. "Of course it does."


    "Your guardian should have what''s needed. What''s your name?" she asks and takes a step forward.


    "Orchid."


    "Orchids... beautiful flowers," she says and smiles the empty smile. "Guardian Blomst, then."


    She looks at the bear, he has his large paws outstretched over the table and between them sits the medieval stew.


    "Like you, Rampion."


    He ignores her and she walks forward to me, she''s half a head shorter.


    "Sun is my name," she says and offers her hand, "named by guardian Saturn."


    Yet another name on the seven guardians. It makes me wonder how they all look like, if they look human like Blomst or if they look more like the creatures in the Eleven.


    I shake her hand. I can feel that I''m holding something, but not the feeling of someone else''s skin, or my own for that matter. She let go of my hand and it looks like she''s about to say something, but before she''s able to a black gate folds itself out behind me, with the same orange glow as those that Clover created in the living world.


    Sun takes a step back when Clover walks out of the black gate. He looks at my throat, thereafter the man in the bear costume. A grimace of dislike fills his face and Rampion answers with a loud and annoyed groan.


    Clover takes a steady grip around my wrist. "We need to speak with Blomst right away."

 Chapter 12

    It''s not a corridor. No orange lamps with crystalized spirals. No ceiling made of darkness and footprints. I''ve never been here before. It''s a medium-sized room with stone walls, the only furniture is a large, round marble table in white with no chairs. There''s no doors nor windows. The gate that Clover created now lies in the form of a stone in his pocket. In Blomst''s personal room the door had still been there on the wall, it seems like the only way to get here is through the gate stones.


    In front of us aren''t just Blomst but two other guardians. In the air hangs a thick, forceful atmosphere. The male guardian looks to have an African ethnicity, while the woman looks south Asian. Her well-maintained, wavy hair is pearl-white and she''s a tad shorter than me. On her forehead she has a mark of a spiral, right above the space between the eyebrows. The other guardian has a mark of a wine-red rhomb at the same place, but what catches my attention the most is the large scar where one of his eyes should be.


    "You''re here," says Blomst and she is staring straight at my aching throat. "How could you let her run off by herself?"


    Before Clover can answer, the female guardian marches over. She grabs my chin and forces my head up to study the throat. While her free hand touches the blisters I can feel the burning sensation spread through me in away I haven''t felt in a long time. She pushes one of her finger into the hole where the wraith''s nails dug into my skin. I have to push my lips together and bite down to not scream. Once she pulls away I take a step back. It''s like I can feel the wraith''s long nails deep in my throat again.


    "You were lucky," the guardian says. "It almost reached into the core."


    She takes a step back.


    "Couleur," Blomst begins and points her whole hand ¨C with the palm upright ¨C at the woman, she moves it towards the man who stands further back and watches us from a distance, "and Cerberus."


    I can see something gentle in his gaze. Cerberus bows with his hand against one of his shoulders. He won''t let go of us with his only eye. It has a shine to it and the color reminds me of the liquid floating down the well in the Eleven.


    I force myself to break eye-contact with Cerberus.


    "You''ll have to excuse us, we''ve been through a lot in a very short time," says Blomst and gives Couleur a glance with a hint of a warning.


    Couleur takes a few steps to the side, the dark and judging feeling is still present in her eyes. Of what she judges us of I haven''t the faintest clue.


    "We can get you a salve. For your throat," Cerberus says, the words seem carefully thought out.


    "Your hand," says Blomst.


    I extend it and she carefully put her hand over mine but leaves a small space between them. A small, round box falls down in my open palm.


    "Lubricate your throat every time it starts burning and stinging. Until it completely disappears."


    "Thank you."


    The box is wine red with a symbol of a chamomile flower on its lid.


    Clover takes a step forward. "We''re not here so you could give her the ointment while the other guardians watch, are we? What are we actually here for? You wouldn''t take us here for only this. You had us wait for almost two days."


    Clover stands with his back straight and his hands in his pocket, but his posture looks unnatural. He''s not as confident as he likes to seem.


    "That is true," says Couleur and grimaces. "The fact that you saw, spoke with one of the Fractured is the reason you''re here."


    "That''s it? That''s why we''re here? I asked Orchid, and it sounded like the creature only..."


    Clover stops in the middle of the sentence, like she ordered him to be quiet with her very gaze. I don''t blame him, the whole room is filled with a heavy air with an ancient wrath, it feels like the room will split into two parts.


    I clench my teeth. I don''t notice that Cerberus has approached us before he puts a hand over Couleur''s shoulder. The uncontrolled wrath becomes smaller and when we barely can feel it anymore Cerberus lets go of Couleur.


    "An item was stolen from Arkaros, and we have our suspicions that the Fractured ones are involved," says Cerberus.


    "Arkaros?" I ask.


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    It takes some time for Cerberus to answer, most likely cause he was thinking on how to articulate his words. "Arkaros is the realm of the dead''s core. You humans would see it as a country''s capital."


    He called it the realm of the dead. I''ve always known that this place was a world after death, but to hear it literally being called that makes me want to flee this room. But there is nowhere to go. No doors nor windows. And even if it was, where would I go?


    "What was stolen?" asks Clover.


    Couleur takes a step forward. "You have no right to know that."


    "Couleur is right," Blomst says; he looks at her with tensed lips. "Let us deal with this and you can continue to reap souls."


    "But you still want our help?"


    Cerberus nods once firmly. "We do need your help."


    Clover neither moves nor says anything. It''s obvious that he doesn''t like this conversation at all, but he isn''t stupid enough to argue too much.


    "We need to know what the Fractured One said to you, Orchid," says Cerberus.


    I clear my throat. I don''t even know where I should start or what they want to know. I didn''t feel that the Fractured One ¨C or Sixxteen that he had jokingly and annoyingly called himself ¨C was dangerous. Or rather, I''m sure that he didn''t want to hurt me. That''s a big difference. I also know that the guardians'' fear of the Fractured Ones has to come from somewhere.


    "He... it didn''t say much. It mostly seemed to annoy me."


    "Did it say why it was there?" Blomst asks.


    I shake my head. "Or... It said that it could feel the soul shatter before it happened. I think it was there to harvest it."


    Couleur scoffs at the thought. "The Fractured Ones don''t harvest. They feed."


    "It said the soul was so damaged that it was unusable to both of you. I don''t think it was there to feed."


    "So it was there for the small part of the shattered soul that was edible."


    I don''t say anything when I realize they care more about their own version of the situation than mine. I have a feeling they won''t listen to me unless it''s exactly what they want to hear.


    "It did help you, Orchid," Cerberus reminds me.


    I don''t know what he wants to achieve with that, what he wants me to answer, and I guess he notices that. He moves his mouth slightly and frowns.


    "Do you know why it helped you?" he asks.


    "No." I hesitate. "It called me a disappointment when I failed to handle it myself. It had to intervene and catch the wraith."


    "It wanted you to handle everything?" Clover asks.


    I look questioningly at him when I notice the puzzled expression. "Yeah? It explained how to catch the wraith and watched me try it."


    "What did it want to achieve with that?" Clover asks.


    The guardians exchange curious gazes, leaving me with an uncomfortable feeling in the depth of my stomach.


    "It said it was entertaining."


    Clover shakes his head. "There has to be something more than that."


    "This doesn''t help much, now we have more questions than answers."


    Couleur sounds calmer now and the air in the confined room doesn''t feel as heavy.


    "Orchid, Clover. If you run into it again, come to us right away," says Couleur and turns to the other guardians. She isn''t expecting an answer from us.


    It looks like Clover wants to say something. But he doesn''t. He takes us from the rounded room with the three guardians and drops me off in my room before he continues through the gate. He never said anything about it the last time he was here, didn''t even sweep his eyes over it. Maybe he can''t see what''s in front of him if it is created on my memories, maybe it''s the same darkness that hides behind the doors, or he just doesn''t care.


    My throat burns violently. It looks like the water-filled blisters are moving slowly under my red skin. I open the lid on the box and move my fingertips in a circular motion. I carefully pull them over the frozen part of my throat. When I move on to the other side it feels like the blisters will burst when I touch them. It takes a few minutes before the burning and stinging feeling disappears. Once I''m done it looks like I''ve smeared Vaseline all over my throat.


    There are three flower-patterned ink pens placed in a light pink plastic mug, once I chose the green one I sit down. I pull out a page out of a notebook and lay it neatly in front of me. Wolf told me that it''d help me remember if I wrote down the names. I don''t know if I should. Sometimes I think that things would be a lot easier if I didn''t fight it. It''s unavoidable, eventually I''ll forget them and who I am. If I let go of everything, let myself forget it will go quicker. How can it hurt if I can''t even remember what I''ve forgotten? It would have been easier.


    I hit the pen against the paper and stare at it for a few seconds before I write.


    I ¨C Jonna. Sister ¨C Emma. Dad ¨C Mikael. Mom ¨C Kristina.


    I write the names over and over again. Once there is no more space I tear away another page from the notebook. I fill each corner and repeat them in my head. I don''t dare to say them aloud, but I listen to every vocalization in my thoughts.


    And I write it down again. And again. And again.


    And when they no longer feels like names, but more like words without meaning that I''m pounding into my memory I stop. I put the lose pages in the notebook and sit quietly on the chair, staring into nothing. I used to be good at shutting things out, pretending that things were okay even if they weren''t. Now I don''t know how to push everything away and make it seem like I have a grasp on things. This darkness creeps forward and for the first time I understand Emma.


    And for the first time I feel ashamed.


    Dad once told me that most people have trouble sympathizing  with people''s situation if they have never been there before, and if it doesn''t go along with their principles. That it''s always easier to go after their own experiences. I couldn''t understand Emma. Neither of us were alright, I pushed everything away while she carried her problems in a way that made them visible.


    Sometimes I don''t know if I wanted her to be alright or if I wanted her to push everything away like I did. It would have been easier to handle. I wouldn''t have to felt that every step I took was for her. When she was not okay it was more obvious that she needed help. At those times I couldn''t leave her alone. Every time I tried to help her she pushed me away.


    I know that it''s a selfish thought, one that I''ve hidden away the other times it has come forth from somewhere deep. It''s foul and harmful and it doesn''t make me feel better, rather the opposite. Despite that I let it stay.

 Chapter 13

    It takes over a week until only red marks are left on the burned part of my throat. The frozen side is completely healed and the persistent pain is no longer there. It can burn a little if I haven''t used the ointment, but not nearly as piercing painful it had been.


    The first days I didn''t have to join Clover on the contracts. It was only the last three when the wound was almost completely healed that I didn''t have a choice. Mostly it was car accidents, nor was it unusual to see people who had drowned or died at their dangerous jobs, or those who had fell from high buildings or cliffs. It was humans from all over the world. I noticed that, Whether it was a stressed office man from Japan or an old lady from Ukraine, there are small differences between people in death.


    Clover knew exactly what kind of soul wanderers they needed, and he played every role perfectly. He''d held an older woman''s hand, whispering about beautiful landscapes she longed to see again. But he had been cold and harsh towards a young man. No matter how he acted they always gave him their souls willingly, whether it was out of faith or fear. When I asked why he couldn''t leave them there as specters if that''s what they wanted, he said it was more merciful to scare them into it. "Lies can sometimes be needed," he''d said. He didn''t seem rather fond of his own words.


    No contracts are handed out to Clover today. If it hadn''t been for the apprenticeship, I''d be able to leave the Eleven. I''m stuck here until that is done. Clover and Artemis plans to bring me to the market later, but I have nothing to do until then.


    I sit down and read through the names I had written the night before. I''ve stopped tearing out pages and use the notebook instead. I kept what was already there, what I had written when I was a child. Some of the pages I''d spilled ink over. Large round circles covered the writing and some of them were even wet and stained my fingers when I touched them. I have no memory of what I had hidden under those large circles of ink.


    I had failed to visit the well the last time I explored the Eleven, and it is still something I''d like to see up close.


    There is no point in waiting more than necessary. I close the notebook and leave the room, going through the long silent corridor until it takes me out to the Eleven. This time I don''t see a lot of the creatures, according to Artemis they''re busy setting up the market in the west.


    Once I reach into the depth of the moon forest, the closest I''ve been to the well, I hear a sound. It''s not like how the moon-trees melody sounds like. It''s not even a melody, but a sound so gentle and beautiful and magical. At the same time, it''s lonely and sorrowful. If I close my eyes I can see glitter of different colors cover a sea. It glows in the darkness.


    I remember what Clover had said. They usually didn''t go there. It''s not forbidden, but there is a reason why they stay away. I know that simple fact should make me want to turn back, despite that I continue upwards the hill.


    The black stone slabs reflect my face and I don''t like seeing the sorrowful eyes that stares back at me. I see dad in them, the sad and tired eyes he had shown us when he told us he had cancer.


    I look up at the trees. I cannot nor do I want to see my eyes. It''s harder to play alright when this place brings out every thought you have. Here can no one lie and pretend to be someone else. Here you are the most absolute and truest version of yourself.


    When I finally arrive the air is so filled with sorrow that it makes it hard to breathe. Yet I don''t want to return.


    The tower is gigantic and white with small black dots, so small that you can''t see them from a distance. It stands in the middle of a round structure filled with blue liquid that reach a decimeter or two from the edge. A white staircase leads up to an elongated platform that extends out towards the tower. Vines have grown over the steps and the structure''s wall, but it never reaches far enough that it touches the liquid.


    I focus on where I put my feet when I climb the vine-covered steps. The liquid doesn''t reflect like water, it''s also much thicker. I sit down on my knees and lean forward over the pool of liquid.


    I want to touch it. I reach out my hand and let my fingers pull through the thick, glimmering liquid. I can feel my own skin, and some sort of electricity that traverses my fingers. The longer I let it stay, the stranger and more confusing it feels.


    There''s a piercing sorrow. A lump in my throat and I shake with widened tearful eyes. I can''t move my hand, I let it lay there and feel.


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    A hand softly grabs my arm and pulls it out of the liquid. When I look up I look straight into the tender-hearted face. I blink a few times and pull my free hand over my eyes. I can feel the electricity when he touches my arm, even though it''s only the sleeve. It''s similar to the feeling I just felt from the liquid.


    "Don''t touch it," he speaks softly, "it has enough sorrow as is."


    "Cerberus."


    He lets go of my arm. I''ve never seen a guardian in the Eleven before, it was always us who went to them. Yet now one of them stands before me. He looks like he did the first time I met him, dressed in the same white coat that reaches slightly below his stomach in the front, but the back side hangs down like a mantle. The collar ends slightly underneath the broad chin. The pants are white, and the only thing that is black is his tight shoes.


    "Orchid," he says and bows slightly.


    I turn back to the glittering liquid.


    "I could feel," is the only thing I can think of saying.


    I can still feel it where the liquid touched my skin, I move the fingers against each other and hope that I''ll remember the feeling after it disappears.


    "I know. The well has that trait. You have no body left, but some places and items make you remember how things used to feel like."


    "Can you feel?" I ask and stand up. "I mean generally, not just here."


    I doubt he has ever been alive.


    "Not in the same way humans can. I have no human body. No vessel."


    He''s honest. He doesn''t have to answer my questions, yet he does. I don''t need to ask if I can lie here because I feel you cannot hide your true feelings. Even if you''d try, you''d see through it.


    "But you feel something."


    It sounds more hostile than I had planned.


    He nods. The jealousy and the hostility must be too visible on my face, yet the friendliness in his eye don''t disappear. I have to get a control of my feelings. I cannot show this envy and aversion towards one of the guardians.


    "What are you doing here?" I ask.


    Cerberus looks out over the liquid. "Waiting."


    "On what?"


    "A visitor."


    He uses small, simple answers so he doesn''t have to lie, then I''d be able to tell right away.


    Maybe it had something to do with the thief and Arkaros. But frankly, that''s none of my business. I excuse myself and head half-way down the stairs.


    "The well is in every world," Cerberus says.


    I turn around.


    "It''s only these kinds of places, where you can reach it, that ends up this way. Filled with so much sorrow that it brings forth every emotion. Here it''s impossible being something you''re not and you can see the truth in every lie."


    I don''t say anything, I simply watch him as he stares at the liquid, almost absent-mindedly.


    "One of the things your and my world have in common is suffering. I love our worlds. There is nothing I wouldn''t do for them. But that doesn''t eliminate the suffering that can occur here. These worlds are not perfect."


    "I''m not sure what point you''re trying to make, Cerberus."


    "We may not be human or know how it feels like being alive in the same way as you, no matter how much we try. But we aren''t without feelings and morals. I think we showed you quite the wrong impression of us when we first met, specially Couleur."


    I have a hard time believing my impressions of the guardians have been wrong so far.


    He continues, "First she might seem cruel and unmoral. But she''s one of the guardians that care the most about the soul wanderers. Some of us see you as tools and others as equals. We''re not that different from humans in that regard. We have different views and opinions. Couleur takes her role as a guardian seriously and sees herself as a mother."


    "And who sees us as tools?" I ask when I finally decided to yield to this strange conversation.


    "First."


    The man who removes our identity and simplify us to a number. The disgust on my face must be obvious.


    "I do not blame your dislike of him. I don''t have much love for that man either."


    He speaks the truth.


    "And you? How do you see us?"


    He sighs. "I mostly feel sorry for you."


    "Why?"


    "You''re born in a cold, impersonalized world without magic. You call it the living world, but I think our worlds are much more alive than yours can ever be."


    There is no hatred in his voice, just ignorance. Yet I feel offended over his opinions of my world. One I''d love to return to, so I can experience something that has meaning and logic.


    "You have a vessel ¨C a body. It''s so easily damaged... There is so much sorrow, hate and suffering in your world. Yet you prefer yours over ours... so I don''t understand."


    "You said that there was suffering in your world too," I remind him.


    "There is. Maybe that''s why I don''t understand." He sighs. "A perfect world doesn''t exist. Suffering is needed for a world to bloom."


    It feels like he is saying two different things and none of them makes sense.


    Cerberus tenses up. He frowns before he looks at me with an apologetic expression.


    "My visitor is here."


    Behind us a gaunt creature emerges from the path leading deeper into the forest. It''s dressed in a black, transparent veil that hangs over its head and reaches down to the dark blue grass. The skin looks grey. Under the transparent fabric three glowing, white eyes are visible. Its mouth is a long line, and its skin is desiccated, like a mummified corpse. It has no hair and the nails are long and ungroomed.


    "I''ll leave you then," I say and can''t look away from the creature below the stairs.


    "Thank you, Orchid," says Cerberus.


    I pass the creature; it lowers its head as a greeting, I do the same before heading towards the path that leads back to town.


    "Guardian Cerberus," it says dragging out the s with its coarse voice. "Have you been waiting long?"


    "No," his voice doesn''t sound as friendly as it usually does.


    "Do you have what I asked for?" the creature asks.


    I don''t hear the answer, it''s silenced by the sound of the well.

 Chapter 14

    The market stalls stand closely together on each side of the crowd, filled with both soul wanderers and creatures. Golden ceilings of fabric hang above us and blocks the spotted glass. They sell everything from strange vegetables, fruits and dishes to crystals, coins and other objects that shine as brightly as our soul stones, often in many different colors.


    Artemis and Clover walks in front of me. They look strange together. Artemis white shirt and broad jeans makes me believe she died only a few years ago. Clover''s mining clothing would make him stand out around the living.


    They''re talking about something; I cannot bother listening. One of the turquoise fruits the market sells have the form of an eight-pointed star. They''re of a smaller size, I could fit a couple in the palm of my hand. Other sells stone tablets with symbols carved into its surface, or beautiful jewelry shaped in peculiar forms. One of these market stalls sells stones, crystals and other items covered in gemstones carefully placed on red cloth. But what caught my attention first wasn''t the colorful crystals or the glowing stones. It was the gaunt creature I had seen earlier that day ¨C the same one that Cerberus had waited for. The three white eyes stop glancing over the crowd as it meets mine. The dry, long mouth smiles. It drums its fingers against the table.


    Artemis and Clover haven''t realized that I''ve stopped. The creature''s uncomfortable smile becomes bigger as I approach the stall. It''s shorter than me and slightly longer than a human child.


    "Beautiful day, no?" It says with its coarse and hissing voice.


    "Not much different from yesterday."


    There is no weather in this world, each day is the same. There''s no night, no rain. Not even the wind exists here.


    The creature laughs and pushes a gaunt-looking hand against its mouth behind the veil. "Yes, you humans with your world. I can imagine that the Eleven is too... still for the likes of you."


    Its grin makes the hair on my neck stand up.


    "Personally, I prefer these kinds of worlds. You always know what to expect. No sudden surprises... But I doubt you''re here to discuss the weather," the creature says and make an overdramatized gesture.


    I don''t know why I''m talking to this unpleasant creature. Maybe it has something to do with Cerberus. I cannot deny I''m curious of what they spoke of and what the creature had asked for. Before I can ask, the creature points with its long finger towards a golden hand mirror decorated with sapphires.


    "You''re here for this."


    I pull my eyebrows together. "What do I need this for? I''m dead."


    It didn''t matter what I did with my hair or my clothes, eventually it would simply go back to its original state.


    "Do you think I''d sell a regular mirror?" it asks and sounds a bit insulted. "No... I sold it to the white-clad guardian."


    "And why do you think I''d want it?"


    Truth is that I want it, or at least something from the creature. It''s been bothering me since I saw them at the well. I want to know what Cerberus did there, why he was waiting for it and what it had given him. Now the creature claims that it had sold something to him and not the other way around.


    Another broad grin from the three-eyed creature. "Had you not been interested in what I have to offer you''d left long ago. Something has to have caught your interest. You humans are so impatiently curious, while at the same time you pretend you aren''t."


    I clench my jaw. "Does it normally work insulting potential customers?"


    "Have I insulted you? All I''m saying is my view of the truth. You humans are curious, but not very honest. In the end it doesn''t matter if I insult you. Either you want what I offer or you don''t. I''ll just sell it to someone else. Do not believe you are the only possible customer, dear human."


    It gets on my nerves, but I know it''s right. If I''m desperate enough it doesn''t matter what it says.


    I sigh. "What do you want? Soul-dust?"


    The creature scoffs. "I have soul-dust, it''s easy to access. No, I dabble in more of a... exchange of services. A favor for a favor."


    I don''t like the sound of that, if anything it sounds like I''m about to sell my soul. Before I can say no someone grabs my arm. Clover stands next to me with Artemis behind him.


    "She''s not interested," he snarls and pulls me away from the market stalls.


    I glance back at the creature with its unpleasant smile still left on its dry mouth. Clover doesn''t stop before we''re far away from the creature, he leads me to one of the narrow areas between the market stalls.


    "What the hell were you thinking?!" he yells.


    I jerk back.


    "First you charge after a shattered soul and now you''re making deals with that thing?"


    "Hey! That was not my fault, you told me to!"


    I don''t know what has gotten Clover in such a sour mood. He has always been grumpy, but I don''t think he has ever yelled at me.


    "She didn''t know, Clover."


    Artemis squeezes in between the narrow space between the stalls. She touches his arms softly and he lets go of me. I pull back my arm and stare at him while frowning. It''s the first time I''ve seen him act like this, and I can''t say I like it.


    Clover averts his gaze. "Never go into deals with that being."


    "I wasn''t planning to. Maybe if you let me speak before yelling at me, you''d realize that."


    "Sorry," he mumbles.


    Artemis squeezes further into the space; Clover takes a step back.


    "It''s best to avoid that being," she says. "It knows exactly what to say to make you agree to a deal you don''t know all the details of. If you''re not careful you''ll agree to something you cannot get out of."


    "It will lie straight to your face or twist the truth so much that you don''t know what you''re agreeing to," Clover says.


    Was that why Cerberus had met the creature by the well, to be sure that what was said was the truth? Had he agreed to a deal? The creature did after all give him the object he had tried to sell me.


    "As I said, I wasn''t planning on saying yes. It didn''t seem safe."


    At least not after the creature spoke of a favor for a favor.


    Clover wrinkles his nose. "The best would be to ignore the being completely."


    Before either I or Artemis can say something he turns around and pushes through the mass. Something tense covers Artemis'' face as she watches his back disappear into the crowd. She gives me a forced smile and hooks her arm to mine.


    "Come," she says and pulls me in between soul wanderers and creatures.


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    We''re walking a few meters behind Clover. He''s tall enough that we can still see him in the mass.


    "Have you noticed anything?" she asks loud enough for me to hear but quiet enough for it to stay between us.


    "Noticed what?"


    "Do you think he acts strangely?"


    "I haven''t known him for very long," I admit.


    It''s been just over two weeks since I died. The most times I had been around Clover it had been about reaping. It was not the best way of getting to know someone. It feels like Clover puts up some sort of wall for each person that tried to get closer to him. Even if I tried being friendlier, I had a feeling it wouldn''t change anything. He''d be the same grumpy, old reaper.


    "I know but... he acts strangely."


    "How so?"


    She takes a deep breath and makes us both slow down. By this rate will lose him in the crowd, but I let Artemis control the pace we walk in. Whatever she''s planning to say she doesn''t want Clover to hear it.


    "He shouldn''t have been so angry at you."


    Her black eyes focus on the back of Clover''s head.


    "He normally doesn''t get that mad. I think he has some history with that creature. I''ve asked but he never gives me an answer. At least not one who lets me know what is going on with him."


    "You think it was the creature that triggered him?"


    She shakes her head. "Not completely. I think there''s something else too. I know Clover isn''t the friendliest man when you first meet him. But he has always thought through what he says and the actions he takes. He doesn''t act very quickly on strong emotions and feelings. Whether they are positive or negative. Lately there''s something bothering him. That he exploded that way out of nowhere and that he''s still avoiding us, tells me that there''s more going on. It was uncalled of him to mention the shattered soul, I know for a fact he feels guilty for not being there. I''ve tried talking to him. But it leads nowhere. He shuts me out."


    "He seems stressed," I add.


    I remember how he had acted when he first showed me the eleven. It was obvious he had other plans afterwards that stressed him out. After that I haven''t noticed anything. But that day stands out.


    "Right. That''s what I suspected."


    "Do you know what makes him so stressed?" I ask.


    "No. I asked a couple of days ago if everything was okay and he gave me a forced smile and said that he was alright. Like I''d believe that. Whatever it is he refuses to tell me."


    Artemis gaze searches for Clover in the crowd. We cannot see him anymore.


    "I''m sorry." I cannot think of anything else to say.


    "It actually hurts a little. I thought we were closer than this... I''m not sure what I believed."


    I follow Artemis with my gaze as she squeezes through the crowd to reach Clover again.


    ***


    The market leads out to a small beach, where it meets the almost transparent river that meander into yet another forest made of the moon-trees. The well''s white tower looks even further away from this part of the Eleven. On the other side of the water there is a little part of land with the dark blue star-grass. It ends abruptly against the black-pink glass. The world''s end ¨C literally.


    I had imagined that the world would be bigger, that I wouldn''t see the end of it just yet.


    "The eleven is a small world," Clover says when he sees my disappointed expression. He leans closer. "There are many worlds that are much bigger."


    The music is louder here, loud enough that you almost have to yell unless you stand close to each other.


    Clover seems like himself again, even a bit happier than normally. The angry side has left him and he''s more relaxed. He crouches down next to Artemis by the beach. She''s pulling her fingers through the water. By the somber expression I''d guess she wishes she''d feel it. Will I always be attached to my human side, or will it disappear once my memories fade away?


    "I should visit them then," I say.


    Clover also moves his fingers in the water. "Huh?"


    I crouch down next to him.


    "If the other worlds are bigger then I have to visit them," I tell him louder.


    "I can show you the Oak once the apprenticeship is over. It''s smaller than the Eleven, but it has its charm."


    "And Arkaros," I add.


    Artemis leans closer. "Count me in!"


    It''s still hard to hear her over the music.


    She doesn''t look as sad. The black eyes shine of something when she looks at Clover. He turns to her. I cannot see it, but I know he''s smiling.


    "I''d like that," he says softly and looks at the water with the smile still on his lips.


    Artemis meets my eyes and her gaze speaks for her. This is the real Clover. I feel a bit in the way so I stand up and straighten my skirt.


    "I should probably head back now," I say and stretch my arms.


    They aren''t stiff, but it feels nice doing something I used to when I was alive, whether I need it or not.


    Clover looks up at me. "Remember we have contracts tomorrow."


    "Yes, how could I ever forget?" I mumble and roll my eyes.


    "It''s not so bad being dead, is it?" Artemis says.


    I try to find a proper answer that isn''t as depressing as I feel.


    "It has only been two weeks," Clover reminds Artemis. "It takes some time to get used to it."


    I force a smile. "With the right company I imagine it can be quite nice."


    With that answer Artemis smiles but clover didn''t seem to get the hint.


    "Death means a whole lot of loss... But a lot of this we wouldn''t be experiencing without it," he says and looks up at the spotted glass. It feels like he means what he says but at the same time not.


    "You''re probably right," I say even though I don''t really believe it. I don''t even think they do, not completely. Both Artemis and Clover would say yes without hesitation if they got the chance to live again. I would too.


    "See you tomorrow," I say and leave them by the small beach by the river.


    I reach the wooden stage where the music is coming from. A long, thin creature plays two drums that are just as elongated as it is. Its skin is coal-black except the fingers that are coated in white powder that dances through the air for each beat of the drums. The face is slightly longer than a human''s and the solid white eyes are located far up on its forehead. I stay there and listen to the drums that beats slowly and each one sounds rhythmic and powerful.


    "They''re called xars," a somewhat familiar voice says.


    I turn around; a pair of dark blue eyes stare right into mine.


    "Sun," I begin and focus on the scene once more, "I didn''t know they had names."


    "Why wouldn''t they have names? We call ourselves humans, do we not? It would be foolish of them if they didn''t have a name for each being."


    I ignore the condescending tone in her voice.


    "And the others?" I ask and watch the creatures that have white, thin fur, and long fingers that elegantly touches the strings of their long instruments.


    "Lyniers."


    The creatures at the stage begin a new song. This on sounds more haunting, yet beautiful. It reminds me a bit of the feeling at the well.


    "It looks better. Your throat, I mean."


    "It also feels better."


    Sun gives me a small smile, another one that doesn''t quite reach the dark eyes. In her hands she''s holding two medium-sized wooden sticks impaling a round dish that reminds me of dango. They are brownish with slight marks of what looks like coal speckled on top of it.


    "For Rampion?" I ask.


    I point at the sticks. They look simpler to eat than the stew she had given him a week earlier.


    Sun spins them with her thin fingers. "Yes, would you like to try?" She holds one of them out towards me. "They don''t taste like our food. I guess they barely taste anything at all. But you can... feel them."


    I was planning on saying no, yet I reach out my hand and pluck one of the dango-looking dishes from the stick.


    "It''s the only thing Rampion asks me to get him when they put up the market stalls."


    I put it in my mouth and when I chew into it, she adds, "I think they''re foul," with the corners of her mouth curling into a smile.


    It feels like an explosion, and ash fills my entire mouth. I cough and bend forward with a hand pushed against half of my face.


    "It seems like you share my opinion on the matter."


    She enjoys this. Now I understand why I''ve only seen her around Rampion. I glare at Sun, I want to say some very colorful words but nothing but coughs tasting like ash escapes my mouth.


    "It stops after a while."


    I continue to cough but am able to get out a "why?"


    She shrugs. "What do I know? He says it makes him feel more alive... Like there wasn''t better way of getting that feeling."


    Sun grabs my arm and leads me away from the stage and the music once we receive annoyed glances. It burns violently and I can feel each detail of my mouth. I pull my tongue over my teeth; I can feel them. I understand why Rampion likes to eat them. When you feel nothing at all even pain is welcomed over pure emptiness.


    She leads me between two stalls and continues until we reach the border of the moon forest. The sound of the market sounds like it''s close yet at the same time far away, like it''s trapped in its own glass globe.


    She releases my arm. "I''ve actually been looking for you."


    "So, the first thing you do when finding me is tricking me to eat whatever the hell that was?"


    Sun rolls her eyes. "It wasn''t that bad."


    I glare at her.


    "My god, it''s like talking with another Rampion."


    "Just tell me what you want," I mutter while my mouth burns aggressively.


    She looks back at the market before she moves the ancient eyes towards me again. "I saw that you were with Clover."


    "And Artemis," I add.


    Sun waves her hand like she was swatting away a fly. "I don''t care about her. It''s interesting, Clover was also the one that stole you away when we had our pleasant conversation in the forest. Are you under his apprenticeship?"


    I have a feeling she already knows the answer to that question, but I''ll indulge her.


    "I am."


    "Do you know what he did at the well two weeks ago?" she asks.


    What did she just say? Clover was at the well?


    Sun takes a step back. "Seems like you know even less than me and Rampion."


    "Rampion knows?"


    They didn''t seem to like each other last time I saw them exchanging glances.


    "It was Rampion that saw him," she says indifferently. "He asked what he was doing and he received an annoyed grimace as an answer. He certainly has changed since the Raven had him as an apprentice."


    Sun sighs. "This was a complete worthless waste of time." The unreliable smile is left on her lips. "You can ask Clover yourself; you know where I''ll be if you receive any answer from him. It''s unlikely though."


    She walks towards the market again and I half run after her.


    "Wait!"


    She turns around and lays her head slightly to the side.


    "I want to talk to Rampion about this."


    "Follow me then. Rampion won''t go out in crowds."

 Chapter 15

    The golden strings still hang in the trees when we arrive. Rampion sits at the round table in the ridiculous bear suit. He raises his head and the black and hollow eyes of fabric stare right at us. I cannot see what hides behind the costume, but I can feel the same exhausted and tired feeling that I felt the first time I saw him. It feels like heavy clouds hang over his shoulder.


    Sun lays down the sticks with the disgusting dango-looking dishes on the table. He raises a large paw in thanks.


    "You know how I feel about company," Rampion says.


    Sun turns to me still smiling. "He doesn''t like an audience when he eats."


    "Both of you can go to hell," he mutters.


    "We''re there already... technically," I say.


    It supposed to be a joke, but it doesn''t sound very funny when I say it out loud. I''ve never believed in hell ¨C or heaven for that matter. But this is after all the realm of the dead as Cerberus had called it.


    Rampion lays the large paws on the table. "It sure as hell feels like it."


    I want to say something, but it wouldn''t change anything. He''d still be trapped in all eternity in a fur-clad cage. My words would only serve as a grim reminder, one that came from my own privileged pity for him.


    Sun pushes one of the sticks closer to Rampion. "I don''t think Orchid cares about how you eat, isn''t that right?"


    "I don''t."


    Rampion stares at me, like he''s trying to figure out what kind of person I am. I feel guilty that I almost laughed at him when I first saw him.


    Rampion makes an annoyed gesture with his paw. He pulls up the over-sized head so his mouth, nose and bottom of his eyes are visible. He pushes the chin of the head against his forehead, so it stays in place and touches his head. He must have learned the rules of what counts and what he can do to keep the artificial head from magically putting itself in place again. He tries to grab one of the sticks with the free gigantic paw.


    "Do you need help?" Sun asks.


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    Considering the smile on her lips I doubt she actually want to help him.


    "Lay off," he says and gets a firm grip on the stick. "Are you going to tell me why you brought someone here or will both of you just stand there and gawk?"


    He carefully moves the stick closer to his mouth.


    "You saw Clover by the well," I say.


    Rampion turns his head slowly towards me. I can barely see his eyes but they look relatively dark. He''s skin is white but slightly tanned. It looks like he''s frowning his nose while his mouth is tense.


    "You told Clover''s apprentice?"


    Rampion laughs bitterly and loses the grip around the stick. It hits the edge of the table again. He quietly curses.


    "I thought she might want to know."


    Lie. She had come to me to know if I knew anything. She has the same blank look as usual, this time she''s not smiling.


    He tries to get a steady grip around the stick again. "Yes, I saw him."


    "What did he do there?"


    It doesn''t feel right to ask. I''m getting into deep water ¨C all too deep.


    Rampion scoffs and gets another grip around the stick. "The thing with Clover is that he''s not exactly honest. Loyal like a fool of a dog, but that doesn''t stop him from lying or twist the truth when he thinks it''s needed."


    He bites into the round dish impaled on the stick. The inside is coal black. It doesn''t take long until he starts coughing and places the stick on the table.


    I know how disgusting they are and how they burn every inch of your mouth. I can almost feel it when he coughs so much that I for a moment think he''ll throw up. He loses his grip on the bear head and it falls back into place. He lets it be there and coughs a few more times before he gets control over it.


    "What did he say?" I ask.


    "What do you think?"


    The voice sounds muffled now when the head is in place again. I imagine him rolling his eyes under the hollow rings.


    "What he said doesn''t matter," says Sun.


    "True." Rampion lays his paws on top of the table. "What matter is what I saw. Have you''ve ever been to the well before?"


    "I have."


    "Then you know that you are like an open book in that foul air. I''m guess I''m lucky for once." He points at the gigantic head with a bitter laugh. "Well, when I saw him everything was written on his face. Insecurity, hesitation, and some burden he carried. Whatever he was so damn upset over I don''t know. When I asked what he was doing there I saw the panic in his eyes. Whatever it was, he didn''t want anyone to see him."


    I move my mouth and tongue as I feel a dryness sneaking upon it.


    "Most keep away from the well. I hadn''t expected to see anyone else there. And with Clover''s reaction he hadn''t expected to see me either."


    Sun has the empty smile on her lips once again. She lowers her head a bit. "Does that tell you anything?"


    "No, it doesn''t."


    "That''s too bad."


    Rampion shrugs. "I hadn''t expected that she''d known anything, Sun."


    "It was worth a try," she sighs.


    No matter what Clover had done at the well it was clear he didn''t want anyone to know. Rampion had seen it, these emotions in his face that worried me. I cannot figure out what it could mean. Or what he has done.


    I think of Cerberus'' words once again.

 Chapter 16

    It was a woman this time. It hadn¡¯t been a car accident. She hadn¡¯t drowned or fallen off her balcony. She had misplaced her foot and hit her head as she fell. A simple death that reminded me of how fragile our bodies were. Had been in my case.


    A little fall and you were dead.


    She had understood it the moment she saw Clover, accepted it without hesitation. It had barely taken a minute before he reaped her soul. Not a word had been said between them. I cannot understand how she was okay with dying so suddenly from something so normal that shouldn¡¯t be dangerous. And least of all fatal. She had accepted it without questions, hadn¡¯t demanded to know who we were or what would happen.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Clover asks when he transports some of the soul-dust to my stone.


    As always the blue gleaming dust dances between itself.


    ¡°She accepted it without hesitating,¡± I say, accepting the stone once he¡¯s done, ¡°she didn¡¯t say a word.


    ¡°They do that sometimes. They are always the easiest ones to handle,¡± he answers indifferently. ¡°But that¡¯s not what I meant.¡±


    He figured it out. I had a hard time letting go of it after what Sun and Rampion had said. I overthink everything Clover says or does. It was only a question of when he¡¯d notice.


    ¡°Out with it,¡± he says and doesn¡¯t sound as indifferent anymore.


    He crosses his arms and looks at me tensely.


    I don¡¯t know what to say. I don¡¯t want to bring up the well, it might not even mean anything. Neither can I bring up what Artemis and Rampion said.


    ¡°How are you, really?¡± is all I can muster.


    Clover hadn¡¯t expected that question. I hardly expected myself to ask him such a thing.


    It takes some time before he finds the words to answer, ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡±


    It sounds unnatural when he says it.


    ¡°Okay... you¡¯re okay?¡± I repeat like it would make more sense when I say it.


    ¡°Yes,¡± He frowns. ¡°Is this what you¡¯ve been worried about?¡±


    We walk up the path in the forest even though it won¡¯t lead us anywhere.


    ¡°Yes, I just think you¡¯ve acted strangely.¡±


    I bite my cheek. That was the wrong thing to say.


    ¡°Frankly, I don¡¯t think you know me well enough to know that.¡±


    He was right. Had Artemis not said anything I wouldn¡¯t even have noticed it. It feels like I¡¯m walking on thin ice. He must know that I know more than what I say.


    ¡°True,¡± I say


    I want to add that Artemis knows him well enough to realize that something is wrong. But the chance of him pulling away from her is too big.


    We continue up the path that leads us further into the woods and away from the body whose soul we just reaped.


    We have one contract left. Meeri Heikkinen was the name written on the black stone. It would take us straight to Finland, and it would be the closest I had been to Sweden since I died. However, the cause of death left a deep fear in my stomach. I wanted to ask Clover to handle it himself. She would be suffocating from the smoke of the fire that set her house a flame. When I was alive I had thought that it sounded like one of the worst ways of dying. Now I had to stand eye to eye with it.


    After two weeks I¡¯ve gotten more used to seeing death. I¡¯m still unsure and it feels heavy whenever I look at the poor souls we reap. Those who cry and plead, those who are angry and those who have nothing to say. I suffer with them, yet I¡¯m also jealous. They get that eternal rest that I¡¯ve noticed I pine for. They get an ending. To keep on living but not living is painful in a way I wouldn¡¯t realize before. I avoid showing it the best I can. It¡¯s like keeping your head above water and it gets harder the longer I¡¯m here.


    I stop once we reach the end of the hill. The dark forest looks real. I¡¯ve noticed that the world I live in now looks like a lie. All that beauty I first saw when I came to the Eleven, becomes paler the longer I¡¯m there. I can barely wait until the apprenticeship is over so I can leave and see something else but moon-trees and star-grass.


    I understand why I¡¯ve walked without a destination. It¡¯s an attempt to cling to this place and remember how it looked like. I don¡¯t want to go back.


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    Clover stands next to me. I guess he understands why I¡¯m just walking. Eventually he¡¯ll tell me we¡¯ll have to move on to the next place.


    I make myself ready to say what has been floating around in my thoughts for a while now. ¡°Do you remember how the world looked like when you were alive?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t move. ¡°No. I don¡¯t remember anything from when I lived.¡±


    ¡°But?¡± I ask when it sounds like he wants to continue that thought.


    ¡°I remember my visits to the living world after I died. How much difference it¡¯s between then and now. I guess my first reaping contracts with the Raven was in the same world I once lived in.¡±


    I study the moss that grows on top of the stones, the trees that only leaves small spaces between each other. It reminds me a little of the forest my dad and Emma visited when I was a child. I try to focus on all the details of the forest so I can use it once I get back to the Eleven. I wished I had learnt to paint, then I¡¯d paint everything I see in the living world. It feels comforting knowing that Clover remembers the places he visited after his death. Then I might remember this forest, even if it has been a hundred years since I last saw it.


    ¡°How did you deal with it?¡±


    ¡°My death?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember whatever happened before, or the death itself. But it was hard to accept that I¡¯d have to reap souls in hundreds of years. It didn¡¯t help that the Raven¡¯s area of death was murder.¡±


    It feels like ashes fills my mouth once I understand the meaning behind Clover¡¯s death. I had become his apprentice because he was the one that was supposed to reap my soul.


    ¡°You were murdered.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t remember anything though.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    It¡¯s not enough. Nothing I have to say can make this better.


    He raises his eyebrows with an amused smile. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Like I said, I don¡¯t remember anything. I was frustrated for a very long time. I wanted to know what I¡¯d done - if I had even done anything - to deserve someone killing me. The Raven and other soul wanderers helped me. I was not the only one that had gone through an unfair and sudden death.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t smile anymore, but he doesn¡¯t seem sad either. His face is calm and collected which makes me feel calmer.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s why Blomst gave me the area for accidents, to make me able to go through the frustration and fear I felt. She couldn¡¯t give me murder, that would have been too personal. But accidents are sudden and often violent - and I already understood such a death.¡±


    I cannot understand how he was able to get through it by handling something that was all too familiar and personal. To me, it feels like it¡¯d be more logical to handle deaths that weren¡¯t sudden and violent.


    ¡°It took some time before I accepted it. First, I felt only anger over the injustice that had befallen me and the souls I had to reap. I hated Blomst for giving me accidents as an area of death. The Raven said something that made me think differently.¡±


    ¡°What did he say?¡±


    ¡°That she gave me that area for a reason. If I kept avoiding it, I would never get over the trauma of my own violent death. I called him a bootlicker, and that it was ironic coming from someone who gladly dipped their hands in buckets of blood for the guardians, to the point where it made them apathetic towards death,¡± he takes a deep breath. ¡°Not my proudest moment. It was the first time I thought he looked hurt... And it was I that hurt him.¡±


    He looks disgusted at the thought of what he had done.


    ¡°I hated myself for it, but I refused to apologize. Neither did I show that I regretted what I said. I knew he was right and it took some time before I¡¯d admit it, even to myself. I would rather bury myself in sorrow and anger than do anything about it. I let it take over completely because it felt easier than to accept it for what it was.¡±


    I swallow.


    ¡°Do you understand why I¡¯m telling you this?¡±


    He has seen through the false version of me that I¡¯ve built up. The one that I want people to see. It¡¯s easier to fake everything than accept the hardships and the emotions that are pushing against the surface.


    I stare at the ground, on the green moss and the stones and the cones. I cannot look at Clover. I feel guilt and shame over how I feel. I hate that he saw everything I¡¯m trying so hard to hide. He¡¯d told me once that he played a role when he set out to reap my soul. He had seen through me then too, knew exactly what I needed. If he hadn¡¯t noticed how I felt then he wouldn¡¯t have seen these vile, self-pitying sides of myself.


    ¡°The cup will overflow eventually, and it will all spill out,¡± he says.


    I avoid his burning gaze and hold my arms tightly around me. I cannot have this conversation now. He has no right to demand this out of me when Artemis tries to reach him and he refuses. Is this another game of his? To make me think of something else than whatever he¡¯s hiding? If he¡¯s even hiding something.


    ¡°We should go to the next place,¡± I say in the most stable voice I can muster.


    He sighs. I hear him take the stone out of his pocket. Out of the corner of my eyes I see him extend his arm, the door folds out and he knocks a few times. I look at the gate when he opens it and goes through the whirling darkness. I stay, just for a few seconds, wondering if I should stay here until the door disappears. It¡¯s a stupid and unrealistic wish, so I follow him.


    It¡¯s night on the other side and the area is lit up by the house coated in flames. It looks enraged, like it devours everything in its colors of orange and yellow. The windows look like fiery, burning eyes that stare right at us. A fire truck sprays water on the raging fire, and people outside are yelling. It sounds strange, I can hear it¡¯s Finnish but as usual it sounds like we¡¯re under water, and then there is something else that makes it sound even more foreign.


    I don¡¯t even dare to look at Clover, not after the conversation we just had. I don¡¯t have much of a choice, I have to put it aside and focus on what we have in front of us. Which is easier said than done.


    I don¡¯t feel the heat of the wild flames when we pass through them. It feels like the ceiling - that is coal black and aglow - will fall down upon us. We continue up the stairs and into a room. Clover knows exactly where Meeri will be, like it¡¯s written in his soul. How does it feel to be connected to those you¡¯ll reap, knowing all their emotions and thoughts? I cannot feel what Clover does; I don¡¯t have the same connection to his contracts.


    It¡¯s a bedroom. A woman sits on the floor next to a bed, on top of it lies the body. It looks like it¡¯s sleeping but it does not have the blue shine Emma had. She¡¯s dressed in a white nightgown and looks to be around forty - maybe fifty, but her white hair looks dyed.


    Clover takes a few steps closer, and the woman slowly raises her head with a smile on her pale lips.

 Chapter 17 - (part 1)

    She smiles.


    It''s not sad nor happy. It''s a peaceful one - like she welcomes death with open arms. It was different from the earlier woman Clover had reaped. She had accepted it, but she never smiled peacefully. The woman in front of us wanted to die.


    The smile dies out as we meet her gaze. First, she looks at me, then she moves the grey, round eyes towards Clover. She doesn''t seem neither surprised nor confused about his coal-marked clothes.


    She slowly gets up from the burning floor and takes small, careful steps forward.


    "I''m dead," she says and stops a few meters away from us.


    "Yes," Clover answers even though it wasn''t a question.


    He doesn''t seem as confident as he usually is. He''s tense and he won''t move a slight millimeter. What if he cannot handle her? The thought is terrifying and leaves a troublesome feeling in the pit of my stomach.


    She sweeps her gaze over our clothes.


    "I''m dead," she repeats perplexed. "What happens after I die?"


    She takes two more steps forward and extends her arm a few centimeters. Clover straightens his back and looks even more tense than before. He never lets go of her with his gaze.


    "You stay here as a specter -" before he could say anything more Meeri tightly grabs his wrist.


    She stares at him with large eyes and her face moves in pure panic. "You cannot leave me here!"


    I can feel the heat from the fire. It moves aggressively when she squeezes his wrist harder. A black color seeks its way down Clover''s hand, yet he stays completely still. Had I not seen how he tensed up before, I''d believe he wasn''t fearful and had the situation under control. Now I''m not sure of that.


    "You have to calm yourself," he says with a calm and collected tone.


    "You cannot leave me here!"


    The same ash that covers half of Clover''s hand now wanders from underneath the nightgown and travels up to her chin. When she opens her mouth, I can see what looks like flames erupting from the beginning of her throat. Her face is grimaced in pure agony. I take a step forward. Clover moves his free hand and stops me by holding a tight grip around my wrist.


    "I''m not going to leave you here."


    The ash that has made its home on her body stops growing right underneath her lips.


    "It''s up to you whether you want to stay. But if you don''t calm yourself, you''ll be stuck here for all eternity. You won''t be yourself; you''ll be a wrathful wraith that burns everything it touches."


    The ash has reached Clover''s fingers and it''s only his fingertips that are untouched.


    "You''re lying."


    "I promise you, Meeri. I gain nothing of lying about this to you. You can keep holding onto me if it makes you feel safer."


    I think I''ve never heard him speak so softly and gently, like he''s caring for a fragile flower. She softens her grip around his wrist, but won''t let go completely.


    "Listen carefully, Meeri. I want to help you and that''s why I am here, but you need to calm yourself."


    She shakes her head. "No, I cannot. You don''t understand..."


    "Yes, you can. I''ll help you, alright? But you need to let me help you."


    Her eyes widen. "How?"


    "I can take you away from here, you''ll never need to put your foot in this place again. But you need to calm yourself, Meeri."


    "Where will you take me?"


    Clover gives me a warning glance that tells me not to move. He lets go of my wrist and puts his hand in his pocket. Every slight move is planned, it seems like he''s terrified to move too quickly or in a way that would make the woman explode. He takes the stone from the pocket and slowly unfolds his hand.


    "We call this a soul stone," he says in the same calm and collected voice, "with it I''ll reap your soul, but only if you let me. You''ll never see this building or this area again. You''ll be reborn or live for all eternity in paradise."


    Meeri opens her mouth slightly. The black ash moves down her face, towards the heart that is no longer beating. She lets go of Clover and stares at the soul stone in his hand. I wait for the stone to open, for the soul-dust to whirl around each other. But nothing happens. It remains shut.


    Meeri takes a step back. "Why isn''t it working?!"


    The wrath is back again. Clover takes a step forward before it can get out of hand. He looks annoyed and I understand why. I didn''t even think it was possible.


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    "I''m not going to leave you here," he says with a much harsher tone, "but... there''s some changed plans."


    Meeri recoils. The fire behind her pushes itself against the ceiling, and the whole room is black. It feels like everything will fall apart.


    "What do you mean?"


    "I can take you away from here, but I cannot promise you paradise or a reincarnation."


    "It doesn''t matter. Just take me away from here!"


    I want to tell her that it''s better to stay, even if the house is burning to the ground. I doubt she''d care what I have to say. She wants to escape this place and she''s desperate enough that it doesn''t matter how it happens.


    "As you wish," he says and replaces the blue stone with the orange.


    The gate unfold itself in the blackened room.


    "I''ll explain in the corridor," he says to Meeri.


    Clover says nothing out loud, but the way he looks at me before he opens the door says everything. How could this be possible? Two apprentices at the same time.


    Both of them steps through the whirling darkness, Meeri didn''t have the same hesitation that I had.


    Once we step out to the other side all the crystalized lamps are already lit. I walk behind Clover and Meeri. He explains everything, what is expected of her and that all her memories of her living days will disappear. Even her name.


    I''m a little jealous that she gets this talk from Clover. I never did, I''m not sure why. Maybe it was because he didn''t want to scare me with the details until I was in a room I couldn''t escape from. Not that I''d be able to escape in the corridor, but it was much bigger than Blomst''s office. If I had learned something about Clover, it was that he didn''t like to be inconvenienced. Or Clover might be telling Meeri all these details because he''d gotten a scolding from Blomst for not explaining anything to me.


    Truth is I have no idea why he never told me anything.


    Meeri looks content, joyful even, when Clover tells her about the worlds and the guardians. The only time I see her smile fade is when he tells her how much death she''ll experience. Yet, I still sense harmony in the way she moves, like she has been freed. All those worries and concerns she had are gone. They mean nothing anymore. She''ll forget them soon. I understand why she''s smiling when he speaks of a new life without old memories that holds you down. For me it''s the other way around. I hate the thought of forgetting. While I''ve had hardships throughout my life, I don''t think I''ve gotten close the pain she has felt. It makes me wonder what Emma would think of this. If she became a soul wanderer, would she prefer to forget everything? Maybe that would be easier to handle. I can admit that, but the fear is still there.


    "So beautiful," she says and watches the lamps that are likely being lit one after one in her eyes, exactly the way they did for me the first time I walked this corridor, "so incredibly beautiful and peaceful."


    Clover pays no attention to me and I prefer it that way. What he told me still hurt, that he saw me makes me want to avoid him. At least until I can put on my mask again and pretend that he never saw through it. I''ll play my game just as much as he plays his, whenever he''s reaping a soul. He cannot judge me. Not when he''s not even honest with Artemis.


    Once we reach the end of the corridor Wolf stares at Meeri before he moves his fiery gaze towards Clover.


    He sighs. "I know, I have no explanation."


    Wolf laughs.


    There''s no fear in Meeri''s grey eyes, only a curious wonder. She looks at this place much more differently than I had. And still do.


    "Orchid," Wolf says and bows his head slightly, "do you write anything?"


    "I do."


    I''ve filled half of the notebook with names, most of them are my own and family''s. Sometimes I also write friends'' or other people''s names who had some sort of meaning to me when I was still alive.


    "Good, good!" He turns back to Clover. "They await."


    Clover knocks on the door and a black card comes out. Wolf leans closer to get a better look.


    "Saturn," Wolf says with one of those smiles that you can only feel, "unusual, unusual."


    "Why is that?" Meeri asks and stares at the skeleton with large, curious eyes.


    "Saturn is the one who has the least soul wanderers. But he gives the most beautiful names."


    Clover leans towards him with a smile on his lips. "You don''t want a flower as a name, Wolf?"


    "Ah, no. No offense, Clover... Or Orchid." Wolf does a head movement towards me. "I think I''m content with the name Vrana gave me. Even though it might be a bit uncreative."


    He repeatedly pokes the wolf-skull and laughs.


    "I don''t think any of the guardians are known to be creative or good at giving out fitting names," Clover says, still smiling with something playful in his brown eyes.


    He''s right. I''ve never thought the name they gave us was rather creative. Even though Orchid had a meaning to me, I doubted that Clover had something to do with the flower he was named after. Even Sixxteen made a joke of how ridiculous the names are.


    Clover turns the black card around. "It should go faster than the first time we were here."


    The curiosity and wonder in Meeri''s eyes only grow larger once we step into the waiting hall. We sit down at the chairs while Meeri''s eyes wanderer over the room and soul wanderers. It''s fewer today, but the colors of the cards they''re holding show that they''re going to different guardians. There''s slightly more than ten people who carries the same black cards as us. The most common ones are brown - the same one we received when I came here the first time. I guess that the white papers - that are just as rare at the black ones - are for the soul wanderers that belong to Cerberus.


    "There''s so many," Meeri says.


    She looks at the soul wanderers at the other side, mostly the older ones that look like they belong in a movie or a cosplay convent. It''s hard to get used to those who looked like they lived hundreds of years ago. Like they - or we - don''t belong. Truth is we all belong, everyone who no longer has a body to return to.


    "There''s many who dies," I say and avert my gaze.


    Clover doesn''t seem interested in holding a conversation and neither do I.


    "That''s true. I didn''t expect so many to become reapers."


    "Soul wanderers," I correct her.


    Clover makes a slight chuckle at my correction.


    "When did you die?" she asks.


    I hesitate. That kind of question makes my skin crawl, and it''s one I''d prefer not to answer.


    "Two weeks ago, almost three. I think."


    "Then you haven''t been dead for very long."


    She says it way too natural. I haven''t accepted it yet - that I am dead and that I cannot return to my world.


    Once I turn my gaze away from her a second time, I notice that the doors are peeking out from under the floor. Clover focuses on the number on the black paper, he awaits our turn and when the sign above the gate with the moon changes to our number, he stands up.


    "Our turn," he says and throws a short glance at us before he leads us to the door. We walk a few steps behind him.


    "What happened with the soft, calm side of his?" she asks me. "Now he seems... grumpy."


    "He never had one", I mutter silently to myself. "It''s a mask he uses when he reaps, well one of them anyway."


    "A mask, like a literal one?"


    "No, not a literal mask. You''ll have to ask him," I say when I tire of explaining this to her. Meeri is after all not my apprentice.


    When we arrive at the door Clover leans in and whispers, "Remember you''re speaking to a guardian. No matter how he looks like."


    Before I can ask what he means the door opens and the whirling darkness welcomes us in.

 Chapter 17 - (part 2)

    The room is bigger than Blomst''s office, its walls pitch black with white, shining dots that reminds me of stars. Filled bookcases stands closely together and one desk is located in the middle of the room. There sits a boy with black hair, and behind him a large three wall window. The middle section is the biggest, and the two other ones are smaller, making the room shaped like an octagon. Outside of the windows I see planets, stars, and galaxies. I doubt it''s real. This must be another magic trick, no matter how breathtakingly beautiful it is.


    The boy stands up and straightens the black suit, it shines like a clear night sky. His eyes are the same, pitch black with only speckles of white, shining dots. He doesn''t look much older than ten years old, but he has the same ancient feeling ¨C if not even older and more powerful ¨C as Sun.


    No matter how young he look, I know that he is older than I could fathom. That Clover would even think I''d be dumb enough to treat him like a child is to put it mildly ¨C insulting. For a moment I wonder if I should even bow in his presence. The feeling he gives is completely different from the other guardians I met.


    "Saturn," Clover says after a long time of silence.


    "Sit down," the young-looking guardian answers.


    Three chairs grow out from the floor, just as black as most things in this room.


    We sit down. Even Meeri seems uncomfortable in Saturn''s presence. The guardian''s desk is free from paper, not at all as messy as Blomst had it. It feels unpleasant to stare into the star-marked eyes, so I focus on his forehead where a crescent moon and two circles are placed.


    "Two apprentices, Clover?" he asks and raises his eyebrows.


    "Yes, I don''t know how it happened."


    I don''t think I''ve ever heard him speak with such a respectful tone before.


    "It''s not the first time it happens. It''s not impossible," Saturn says and Clover grimaces his mouth.


    "And who will handle her apprenticeship?"


    "You will. You know the rules. The soul wanderer that carried the contract carries the responsibility for the soul you bring back. There''s no difference even if you happen to have two souls to teach," Saturn says, and the tone sounds stricter. "Besides, Orchid will soon be over with her apprenticeship. If it makes things easier for you, you can see it as an extension."


    I had expected it to take a few more weeks before I''d be let go as Clover''s apprentice. I''m not sure if I feel relief or disappointment for it almost being over.


    "But with a new apprentice," Clover adds.


    Meeri tenses up as she meets Saturn''s dark eyes.


    "Has he told you what it means being a harvester?"


    Meeri looks at Clover with a confused expression.


    "He''s talking about Soul wanderers. Harvesters is a very old name for it." He turns to Saturn. "I''ve told her everything."


    "Good, then we can begin," Saturn says and puts his hand at the desk, with his palm upwards. Meeri is written on his pale skin. He moves his fingers over it, first it smears out the black color, and then slowly it turns into a new name written in his palm. Eclipse.


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    "Your hand," he says.


    She hesitates for a few seconds before she carefully extends her arm. He pushes his hand against hers. Meeri''s expression turns into confusion, thereafter it''s like her world had been split into two.


    I hated that part. How desperate I had felt once the memories flooded back, knowing that one day they''d truly be gone.


    Meeri ¨C or Eclipse as Saturn had named her ¨C sits quietly with a painful expression. I doubt it''s because she''ll forget. What occupies her face speaks of something else. It looks like she went through all that pain she had to endure throughout her life. She breathes quick, sharp breathes and blinks a few times, like she''s trying to get her eyes to focus.


    "You''ll forget everything soon," says Saturn and pulls his hand away from hers.


    There is something in the pale and expressionless face that wasn''t there before, so faint I barely notice it. It disappears too quickly for me to understand what it was.


    "Thank you," she says.


    In her palm Eclipse is written in the same black, beautiful letters. They slowly fade into the skin.


    When I look at her it''s hard to think of her as Meeri. Each time I think of her name my thoughts drift to Eclipse. I want to try and say her living name out loud, just to make myself remember it even if she wants to forget. It''s for my own sake. When I can no longer remember my own name, I can console myself with the knowledge of the name of someone who once lived. But I don''t dare to say it out loud, not in front of Saturn.


    "Is... Is that all?" she asks and the peaceful smile she had worn earlier is no longer there.


    "No."


    Saturn opens one of the desk''s drawers and elegantly places a black box in front of us.


    While it''s not the same one that Blomst had given me, I know that the Stormcoin is inside. I had placed my own box in a bookcase in my room. I hadn''t touched it once. I won''t need it until I''m done with the apprenticeship, and I have no desire to even open it until I have use of it. I have a feeling if I open it I won''t be able to close it again.


    Eclipse opens the box without a single word from Saturn. She won''t touch it and keeps her eyes peeled on the light.


    "It''s a Stormcoin."


    "What is that?"


    She leans closer and hold the top of her fingers towards the edge of the desk.


    "It gives humans a second chance. Each year you have the opportunity to give it to one soul."


    Eclipse moves her gaze away from the light and gives Saturn a perplexed expression.


    "You force the soul back into the vessel," he continues.


    She leans back but her loose grip around the desk''s edge grows tighter.


    "It gives it back... Just like that? How does it work?"


    By the slight annoyed shuffling, Saturn couldn''t have expected to be questioned the logic behind the coin.


    "No," he sighs and closes his eyes for a few seconds before he continues, "it can be more complicated. If there is too little left of the vessel, or if it''s damaged to the point that there is not possible for the humans to save it, for example, a headless vessel, then the Stormcoin is worthless. It could also depend on how the human dies, you might have to do something in the humans'' world. That could mean getting someone to find them if they''re in need of medical treatment. We cannot help too much. Our ¨C and yours ¨C effect cannot be noticed in the humans'' world."


    Once he finishes his speech, he closes the box and pushes it towards Eclipse.


    "Your new home will be in the world of the Eleven." He turns to Clover. "That should make it easier for you. And Orchid, Blomst is expecting to meet you in her personal waiting room."


    Clover begins speaking, "we can go there after we¨C"


    "There''s no need," Saturn interrupts and Clover jerks back slightly. "You will show Eclipse the Eleven. Blomst only want to speak to Orchid. It''s best for her to get used to not have your supervision. I''ll make a door for you both."


    Saturn creates two doors on the bare wall. The first one is coal black covered in stars, while the other is an old door made of dark wood and coated in moss. Branches reaches out through the floor and clings to the door. It''s quite easy to tell which one is mine.


    Saturn opens the door for me with a swift hand movement. The branches creak as they''re moved aside.


    "You know how impatient Blomst can be. Don''t make her wait too long," Clover says.


    Thereafter he opens the star-clad door and makes himself ready to take Eclipse to the Eleven.

 Chapter 18

    It feels strange to wait in the waiting room without Clover, to speak with Wolf and to knock on the gigantic gate. This is what the rest of my life ¨C or death ¨C will be like, and there''s something depressive about it. Clover is not perfect, and I certainly know I am not either. But he has been there since I died, no matter how grumpy and cold he might have been the first weeks. The thought of being alone creates a heavy lump in my chest.


    Nor did Clover belong to the Eleven. I know I''ll see him when the apprenticeship ends, he had after all said he''d take me and Artemis to the Oak and Arkaros. Yet I have a fear we might never see each other again.


    I''m not sure what I see him as. But one thing is clear ¨C there are things he''s hiding, even from Artemis. I hate that he has seen my deepest thoughts, shame and guilt. Yet he''s likely the only friend I have here. It would be different if I still had been alive. If I''d hear myself say something like that and then in the next second call them a friend, I''d probably wonder if I had lost all common sense. But here things are complicated, I cling to the few things that I have, even the unhealthy ones. I barely recognize myself.


    I fiddle the paper while I wait for the number above the tree door to change. Once it finally happens, I sweep my eyes over the soul wanderers. It''s easy to see who is alone and who is bringing their apprentices. I know I''ll be one of them soon, even though I''m only dipping my toes right now.


    Once I get inside of Blomst''s office, she''s sitting behind the desk and moves a hand over the messy papers. It bothers me that she''s not using magic to keep things tidy and orderly, the way that Saturn had.


    "One moment, Orchid," she says and flips through the papers.


    For an impatient woman she''s surprisingly good at keeping others waiting. Not that it''d be something I ever tell her. While the air feels still and comfortable, I know how it felt when she or Couleur was angry. I have a feeling that even Cerberus'' anger will feel the exact same. A devastating wave that knocks you off your feet.


    Blomst pulls her hand through the air with a single sweep; a chair grows out from the ground. I sit down while she continues to flip through the pages.


    "Aha!" She smiles proudly as she pulls out a paper from the messy piles of loose pages. "There you are."


    She puts her free hand against her cheek.


    "Almost three weeks has passed since you arrived. Time flies, does it not? Or what is it you humans say?"


    "Yes, but I can imagine it goes much quicker for you."


    I don''t know how old she is ¨C if she even has an age. As far as I know she might as well have always existed.


    She smiles, yet it doesn''t reach her eyes.


    "I didn''t always have a sense of time. One, hundreds or thousands of years, everything felt just as long. I was taught that time can be ruthless and then a year, a month or a week feels like an eternity."


    I don''t know how to react. The sorrow, just like her wrath had done, fills the entire room and makes the air heavy and suffocating.


    "So no, I don''t think time goes any faster for me."


    The weight of the air makes me bite down hard; I want to take a deep breath, but I have a feeling that I don''t want to show my discomfort. Blomst pulls out another page that she lays on top of the other. The sorrow still hangs over us like heavy clouds, it''s not as visible on her face. I must have touched a very frail part of her, and it''s more terrifying than the anger she''d shown. Not even the cold and starry gaze that Saturn had beats this fragile sorrow.


    She takes a deep breath and keeps her hand over one of the papers. The strong emotions that touch each and every millimeter of this room disappears. She looks up at me and smiles, this time it reaches her eyes. A single shiver climbs my back.


    "Tomorrow is the last day of your apprenticeship," Blomst says like she hadn''t woven the entire room with her sorrow.


    It was too early; I had expected my apprenticeship to at least be for another few days.


    "The last day for you will be the first day for Eclipse. That shouldn''t be a problem," she says and pulls a finger over the paper on the top of the pile, "it might even be needed."


    Before I can ask what she means with that she lays a new paper on top of the pile. On it the name Rampion bellflower is written, I cannot imagine it''s someone else but Rampion. But what does he have to do with me?


    "I''ve already decided what you''ll specialize in."


    "I cannot choose?" I ask even though I know that''s not an option.


    She shakes her head. "No, then the hard areas would never be chosen. Don''t worry, Orchid. I would never place you somewhere I think you couldn''t handle."


    "What have you chosen for me then?" I ask and squeeze my hands underneath the desk.


    She pulls forward another paper in the pile and lays it on top of the one with Rampion''s name. Once I lay my eyes on the words HEALTH/SICKNESS I feel relief. As long as I don''t have to deal with murder or suicide I don''t care where she''ll place me.


    "Health and sickness. I think it''ll suit you," she says with a smile. "As the name suggest, any death surrounding health is what you''ll deal with. Be it diseases, inflammations, flus. They all count. So, this could be death caused by cancer, heart attack, allergy, or blood poisoning. And many more."


    If I had died before my dad could it have been I that reaped his soul? I''d probably not even remember him.


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    "If you specialize within health and sickness you have a choice. You''ll have the opportunity to visit the humans whose souls you''ll reap before their death. It can happen ¨C earliest ¨C a few months before, you''ll have an exact date when you''ll reap their souls. You can show them whatever form you want. You can be yourself, their mother, grandparent, a family friend or even their pet. The only rule is that they have already died, nor can it be the shape of a soul wanderer, except yourself. You don''t have to do any of it, you can walk in the same day that you''ll reap them ¨C once they''ve already passed. I''ve noticed that most prefer to meet them before."


    "Why is that?"


    "I think it makes them feel better. Most soul wanderers make themselves apathic to the reaping, after a time it''s human after human, soul after soul. It''s not personal anymore, it becomes a job. For each soul they take, the more apathic they grow to the art of reaping, for life. Those who specializes in health and sickness have a chance to create a strong link between themselves and the human they''re reaping. It can be more painful, but they won''t lose the importance of a soul and what it means to die. If you want to keep the feeling of being human, I suggest you do the same."


    I''ve noticed it with Clover. How indifferent he seems over the reaping, even if he does show some sort of care for them. If he didn''t, he wouldn''t be so careful to make sure they don''t end up as a specter or wraith. But I''ve never seen him show any regret for any soul he has reaped.


    "Why cannot everyone do that, no matter the areas?"


    Blomst sighs with her head slightly leaned downwards. "No person questions sick humans if they see things. If all humans start talking about seeing someone, that no one else can see and dies shortly after, we have involved ourselves too much."


    Saturn had said the same thing ¨C that our presence cannot be noticed in the living world. I''m not sure how I should feel or think. I''m not even sure if I should do what she''s suggesting. It feels wrong to get to know someone whose soul you''ll reap. Yet, she has a point. If I want to keep the human ¨C the moral ¨C side of me then I must push through even more pain.


    Blomst lays her hands over the paper and studies me with her light blue eyes.


    "I was surprised." She pushes her hand over her chin and leans back. "I heard you met Cerberus in the Eleven, at the well."


    My entire body stiffens. The first thought I have is not about Cerberus but about Clover and what Rampion had told me. I try to calm down, but everything I do feels unnatural and forced.


    "I wanted to explore the Eleven," I say and try to sound as normal as I can.


    "I can imagine that the well was quite the shock."


    She smiles; I don''t trust it.


    "That''s one way of putting it."


    I''m somehow able to sound more confident than what I feel.


    "It was Cerberus that recommended health and sickness." Her smile grows. "He said that he thought it''d fit you. The conversation at the well must have been very personal if he ¨C that is not your guardian ¨C knows what area would fit you best."


    This has nothing to do with me or the well. This is all about power play. Blomst didn''t like that another guardian had something to say about her soul wanderer, and that he was bold enough to tell her what he thought was best for me. If the guardians didn''t scare me, I''d laugh at them. I wait for her to finish her power play even though Cerberus isn''t here to hear it. Or she wants to remind me who I work for. It doesn''t matter, they can argue as much as they like.


    "I happen to agree with him. So, I took Cerberus suggestion to heart."


    I''m happy she''s not so petty that she''d put me somewhere else. Blomst continues to study me, and when it seems she cannot find what she''s looking for, she moves the paper with Rampion''s name over the other.


    "Either way, you''ll follow Rampion bellflower on his contract once it''s time to reap the soul. In three days if I remember correctly. He''ll show you what it means to reap within health and sickness. And the day after that," she says with a smile, "you''re ready to reap on your own."


    Three days. One day with Clover and Eclipse, a free day and another with Rampion. I feel no joy for this, if anything I feel worried. Blomst seems to think that I am ready for this. I cannot see it myself.


    She puts the papers together and lay them on top of the messy pile to her side. She places a stone on the desk, right in front of me. It shines in orange, and I know what it is.


    "I''ve decided to give it to you now. You''ll need it to one of tomorrow''s reaping contracts. I expect you to not use it beyond that contract, at least until the apprenticeship is done."


    I have no plans to defy a guardian, even if I''d like to leave the Eleven and never return. A few more days I can handle.


    I caress the stone with my fingers, like usual I cannot feel a single thing, not that I expected anything else. I put it in my pocket.


    "If you have any questions, you know where I am," Blomst says.


    I doubt I''d like to sit in the waiting room for a single question.


    Once I get up from my chair, I notice that Blomst has already made a gate on the wall for me. This one will lead me straight back to the Eleven. I cannot even force a smile when I approach the door. I take a breath; I hope it''s quiet enough to hide it from Blomst. I open the door and head through the darkness.


    As I thought the Eleven welcomes me with its strangeness. Clover is sitting on the step at the bottom of the stairs, he stands up when he hears me. Eclipse is nowhere to be seen.


    "I thought you''d be back in the Oak by this time," I say and take a few steps down so I stand a few steps above him.


    "I was waiting for you."


    I look around. "Where is Eclipse?"


    "In her room, I guess. I showed her the building." He doesn''t sound very interested to continue the conversation about Eclipse. "What did Blomst say?"


    "That my apprenticeship is soon over. Tomorrow is our last contract together."


    There''s something sad that it''s ending.


    He grimaces his mouth. "Already?"


    "She thought I was ready. Have you been sitting here all this time to ask that?"


    "No. Listen, Orchid," he says with a softer voice, "About before. I''m sorry."


    He had apologized before, once for almost getting me killed in the forest. This apology sounded different.


    "For what?" I ask.


    "For what I said. I have no right to tell you how to deal with your burdens."


    I didn''t want to talk about it. The best would be if he pretended it never happened, I''d rather forget it completely.


    "It''s fine," I say and walk down the stairs, past him.


    "It''s not," he says and I wonder if he''s even talking to me, it sounds more like he''s saying it because he needs to.


    I continue to walk towards the moon-forest, and Clover follows me.


    "I was upset when you saw through me," he says and it sounds like I''m listening to myself. "So I wanted you to know I had seen through you too. It was immature. Frankly, even before that. In the market and in the woods."


    I stop and turn around.


    He continues, "I should never have yelled at you, and I''m a bloody fool for sending you away before explaining what I needed you to do in the forest."


    "You know, Clover, it wasn''t me that saw through you." He frowns. "It was Artemis."


    His face becomes smooth for a few seconds before he pushes a hand against his face. "Damnit."


    I''m not sure how he thought he could hide it from her, why he hadn''t even doubted that she had seen through this play of his. This reaction says everything I need to know ¨C he hadn''t even thought of the possibility of her knowing.


    Once he lowers his hand I continue speaking, "I don''t know what you''re going through right now, but I hope you realize that you''re only pushing her further and further away."


    His face is as clear as Cerberus'' had been at the well. Whatever is haunting him he''ll keep to himself. He''ll push her away if he has to. I''m not sure what to say. Not to Clover, nor Artemis.


    "Do as you wish, but it wouldn''t hurt to give her something."


    I''m not so sure he understands. It feels like I''m standing on the outskirts watching a relationship being destroyed. I want to ask him about the well and what Rampion had said, yet I know it has nothing to do with me. Soon I won''t be Clover''s apprentice and I have no right to get involved in his business. Yet as always, these thoughts refuse to cease the pestering of my mind.

 Chapter 19

    For each soul Clover reaped I haven''t said anything. I''ve stepped aside and observed. The only time I spoke was when one of the souls shattered. It feels like if I speak to them then I''ll really be here. It''s a way to fight the fact that I am dead. It''s something I''ll be doing as long as I can. It''s also so I don''t have to feel responsible for the ones Clover reaped. Maybe it''s selfish to put all the blame on Clover, but if he has noticed he hasn''t mentioned it. Not that I think he''d care. The point of this is for me to see how everything works and ready myself for reaping on my own. That''s when I have no choice. I''ll have to speak to them.


    Eclipse is not the same. She spoke to the souls from the first one we reaped. She consoled the sad and calmed the angry. In a way she reminds me of Clover. Yet this was no planned out strategy of hers, this was who she truly was. Eventually she''s likely to meet one that won''t let her take their soul, but the four souls from today''s contract have trusted her. Clover had even stepped aside and let her control the reaping while he watched.


    I hate to admit it but I''m jealous. I wish it had been that easy to accept everything when I first came here, or that I at least can accept it now. I don''t understand how she does it.


    I''ll have to force away these thoughts earlier than I thought, because I''ll have to talk to the souls - reap them - before my apprenticeship is over. "It will go faster," said Clover when he read the next contract out loud. He never read the names. All he needed to say was the cause of death for me to realize how many souls we''d reap. How many I''d have to reap.


    We''re still at the same place as the last contract. The grass is brown, and the sun lays high upon the sky. If we were alive, it would have been unbearably hot. We cannot feel heat nor cold, at least not the living kind. I haven''t forgotten the wraith''s hand pushed against my throat and I''m not sure I''ll ever forget it.


    Clover watches me as he opens the door. He''s more worried how I''ll handle the death that awaits us, even though Eclipse only was introduced to reaping today. I give him a glare that tells him to hurry up. He lets his eyes linger for just a few more seconds before he and Eclipse walk through the doorway. I prepare myself for what I''ll witness, all the souls I''ll have to reap and speak with. I take a deep breath and step through the door.


    We find ourselves in the middle of the airplane. It has already crashed and is cut in half like it was made of ceramic. We''re in the bottom part of the plane, the one that is mostly intact compared to the part that fell down the mountain. Oxygen masks hang down from the ceiling and sunlight enters through the large opening, where cables dangle in the wind like vines.


    "Blomst gave you the gate-stone, right?" Clover asks as he looks out over our half of the plane.


    I squeeze the stones in my pocket. "Yes."


    "You can use the stone to find souls. I imagine they''re spread out."


    Which means I have to jump between gate to gate to look for the hundreds of souls we - I have to reap.


    "Alright."


    I squeeze the stones once again. I''m not ready, words I desperately want to say but cannot form. Eclipse watches me with a somber expression, she knows that I don''t find this as easy as she does.


    She tiptoes down the plane, towards the large opening with the cables. Sobs are heard from the direction she''s heading and two small hands stick out behind a seat, hiding a child.


    Eclipse crouches down and extends a hand towards the child''s soul. I cannot see them behind the seats. Nor do I want to see it. I take out the orange stone, a gate folds itself out in the middle of the plane. While there are similarities between mine and Clover''s gate, it still looks different. It has the same orange crystallized veins growing at its surface, and in the middle forms an Orchid. The door is white, it makes me think of the white orchids I gave my father on his funeral.


    I sigh and move my fingers over the door. Eclipse says something to the child behind the seat. I shut it out, I don''t want to hear it. I knock on the door like Clover has taught me, I think of the souls on this mountain. I beg to whatever controls the doors that the soul behind is no child.


    Once I''ve repeated my pleas a couple of times, I open the door and step through it.


    There''s snow everywhere and my calves are deeply buried underneath it. I catch the gate-stone after the door folds itself back into a stone. While I don''t feel the cold against my leggings, it''s still hard to move.


    In the distance there''s a woman calling for help, for anyone to hear her. She falls down, burying her arm into the deep snow, slowly she gets up on unsteady legs. She doesn''t have the blue shine that Emma had. This woman is not alive. The gate had led me straight to a poor human who''s soul I have to reap.


    I don''t dare to say anything when she''s so far away from me, so I keep traversing through the snow. If I could walk on top of the water on the Russian river, then I should be able to walk on top of the snow. But no matter how much I focus, my feet are still buried deep.


    The woman calls out again, louder this time. She stumbles and tries to soften her fall with her hands, but they sink down into the snow. I tread quickly, now when she''s closer I can almost grab her. She quickly turns around with widened eyes, it last just a few seconds before she smiles with relief.


    "Oh, thank the Lord!" she gets up; there''s no snow on her clothes, they''re as dry as they were before the plane crash. "I thought I was the only one who survived."


    She doesn''t know she''s dead.


    I don''t know where to even begin, all I can do is stare at her while I''m desperately trying to think of something appropriate to say. She looks towards the mountain chain and the eternal snow.


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    "They have to know that the plane crashed, they must have sent someone..."


    I cannot hold it in anymore and she must have seen the sorrow that covers my face.


    "We''ll survive this, God will save us both."


    The woman lays a hand on my shoulder. I cannot feel it. Nor can she. She cannot feel the cold nor pain, yet she believes that she''s alive. How can I tell her that she''s dead? I wonder if I should do what Clover once did and say it outright. But that might not work on her. Maybe it will work if I pretend to be an angel. I''ll tell her that I''m here to take her to heaven. The chance of failing is too big. I don''t know enough about religion, nor which one she belongs to. No matter what I do I cannot solve this.


    I put my hand over hers on my shoulder. With a deep breath I think of how I should phrase this. But nothing can be phrased correctly when you tell someone that they''re dead.


    "I''m sorry," I say and the woman frowns, "No one will come."


    A cowardly and wrong way of saying it. I cannot say the word dead, it''s like it''s stuck on my tongue.


    "You... You don''t know that," she says and pulls back her hand.


    Insecurity. I think that she deep down knows that she''s dead already. But she ignores all signs of it, clinging onto the small hope that''s left.


    "It''s too late," I say and try to force the words out.


    You''re dead. You''re dead. You''re dead. Tell her.


    "It''s never too late," she says and takes a step back.


    "You''re already dead."


    It feels like a release when I finally get those words out. The woman takes another step back, frowning with widened eyes.


    "No, that cannot be. I''m alive! I have a family! We would... Oh no, Molly... Michael."


    There are tears in her eyes, she shakes her head and clutches the scarf hanging down her chest.


    "Do you feel anything? Cold, pain, the clothes against your skin? You can still move, so you''re not paralyzed."


    I take a step closer; she takes another backwards.


    "I cannot be dead... I''ve been good my whole life. I''ve gone to church each Sunday. You cannot claim I''m dead."


    Clover had always been quick to calm them down. I saw what happened with Eclipse once her emotions controlled her. I have to be careful, if her emotions go rampant, she could become a wraith. I don''t know if that means she''ll be as dangerous as a shattered soul. One thing is clear - I have to avoid it at all costs.


    "It''s unfair. I know that so well," I say and stay at my spot.


    If I can make her see that I agree with her, that I have gone through this and that I see how unfair death is, maybe then I can convince her.


    "What are you?"


    What. Not who. To her I''m not even human, and am I even that anymore? I have no body. No vessel and my soul have definitely changed.


    "I''m a soul wanderer."


    She takes another step, there''s a few meters between us now. "What is that?"


    "I''m here to gather souls."


    I cannot use the word reap here; I have to be aware of each word that I choose.


    "I didn''t ask what you did here, I asked what you were," she snarls.


    "A soul wanderer gathers souls."


    "And you''re here to gather mine?"


    I nod. "And others."


    Maybe I should have used save instead of gather.


    She takes another step back and glances briefly at the cliff behind her, the next question will determine if she''ll throw herself down from it.


    Her body tenses up before she asks, "who do you work for?"


    I know she awaits two answers. God or the Devil, none of them are the truth. I could lie and tell her God, and there might even be some truth to that, if the guardians are some sort of gods - but there''s a chance she could see through it. To say the Devil wouldn''t only be a lie but an idiotic one. I cannot say the truth either, I don''t know if I can speak of the guardians with the souls I''m supposed to reap.


    She glances at the cliff again, and I force out a half-truth before she decides to jump. "Death."


    Fear flashes in her dark eyes. She quickly spins around and throws herself down the cliff. It was an idiotic answer for the question, I could have answered the Devil with the same effect.


    The woman rolls down the steep cliff and the snow moves around her, but leaves little to no mark. I throw myself after her. The snow hits my face, but I cannot feel it, nor the cold. She hits a part of a jagged stone sticking out from the mountain and falls down at the bottom of the cliff on all fours. She quickly gets up and starts running. I hit my back against the snow, and I force myself to get up on my legs again.


    Once I start running in the deep snow, I focus with all I can on the surface. I want to run above it without sinking down. I think of how it felt to walk over the water, how Clover had pushed his hand through the surface.


    The woman runs as quickly as she can, and I plod through the snow until my feet finally reach the surface.


    She falls again and gets halfway up; I''ve already reached her and I take a steady grip around her arm. She looks at me with widened eyes and a face grimaced of pure fear. In her eyes I''m nothing else but a demon.


    "I will not force you to give me your soul," I say.


    She tries to get out of my iron grip, but I''m stronger. My soul has gotten used to be without a vessel, while hers is still getting used to it. I still remember how it felt, I couldn''t move anything. That she made the snow react, if only a little, shows that she''s much stronger than I was.


    She stops struggling and clasps her hands together and mumbles a prayer with eyes tightly shut.


    "I can literally not force you," I say, an attempt to calm her, but she''s so scared of me that it doesn''t matter what I say.


    I let go of her and she crawls away from me on all four. She doesn''t get up again.


    "I understand that you''re scared."


    She''s not listening; I take a step closer. The widened eyes refuse to let go of me. She reminds me of a frightened and cornered animal. She''ll attack me if I get any closer. Not that it would make any difference, as long as she doesn''t turn into a wraith.


    "Leave!" she snarls.


    She slowly sits up and the dark brown hair lies elegantly over her shoulders and scarf, leaving no signs that she threw herself down a cliff.


    "I want to help you." I don''t dare to move closer to her. "But I cannot help you unless you let me."


    "If you think I''ll willingly give you my soul you''re out of your mind!"


    "If you don''t, you''ll be stuck here for eternity."


    She laughs bitterly. "God will help me. And you," the last words are filled of a venomous loathing, "you can dig yourself back from where you came from."


    No matter what I say she''ll never listen. The moment I said I worked for death - or maybe earlier - she had already decided what I was. Anything I say will sound like a lie to convince her.


    I take out the gate-stone from my pocket, it folds out the gate. Had it not been for the crystalized veins then the white door might have served as comfort, but I know the orange glow reminds her too much of fire.


    She glares at me as she crawls back. I know once I open the door and the whirling darkness meets her brown eyes, she''ll think that she has made the right choice.


    "If I take your soul, you''ll either be reborn or reach paradise," I try once more but the dark, hateful eyes say everything I need to know.


    I knock and think of the rest of the souls that are still stuck on this mountain.


    "If I had a choice," I begin and feel the angry eyes against my back, "I would have let them take my soul. To be stuck here for all eternity is not worth it."


    I''m not sure if I''m saying it to myself or her. When she says nothing, I open the door and walk into darkness. At that sight she''ll think she chose right to stay on this lonesome mountain for all eternity.


    And I hope she''ll continue to think so.

 Chapter 20

    I''ve lost count of how many souls I''ve reaped. Four of them asked me to go to hell. Most were scared and hadn''t realized they''d died, and some welcomed me. They were happy that someone came to take them away from this godforsaken mountain.


    I wonder how Clover would handle the four that refused, mostly how he would have dealt with the religious woman. It feels like I''ve let her down. If I had another chance, would I have told her I was an angel on a mission from God? I feel dirty when I realize it might have been a better solution, to use someone''s religion against them with false promises. Being stuck on this mountain had to be a bigger punishment.


    I look around, I''m not sure I''ve been here before. After a while the places on this mountain look the same. At the edge of a cliff stands an old man, he watches over the mountain chain and is dressed in a black suit, on the top of his head lays thin, white hair.


    He watches me with warm eyes as I approach him. He looks around eighty, and out of all the souls I have reaped today, he seems to be the most peaceful one.


    "I wondered when it was time," he says.


    The man gazes out over the mountain chain again. The sun is going down and soon there will only be the clear star-filled sky with its moon lightning up the night.


    "You know who I am," I say; it almost sounds like a question.


    "Yes, I have waited for a while now. I didn''t think it''d be an accident that took my life." He chuckles like he wasn''t speaking of his own death. "Tell me, is heaven this beautiful?"


    Another religious person. I decide not to lie and hope that it won''t end up the same way as it did with the woman.


    "I don''t know. I''ve never seen it."


    The man''s clasped hands rest against his stomach, he continues to stare at the view for a little longer.


    He turns to me. "I am ready."


    I pick up the soul stone from my pocket, it opens up and the soul-dust makes its poetic dance. The man smiles.


    "Beautiful," he says before his face and body becomes soul-dust and slowly transfers to my stone.


    I stand alone at the top of the mountain, a peaceful sorrow dances around my fingers before it continues in between the stones halves. They shut together with a quiet thud.


    I observe the snow-covered mountaintop while I pick up the orange stone. The gate unfolds itself for what feels like the hundred time today. I do the same routine, think of the souls, knock, and open the door.


    I step into the airplane ¨C where we began. They''re back already. Eclipse is sitting at one of the seats with her legs pulled close, so her knees touch her chin. Clover is leaning against one of the seats with his arms crossed.


    "Are we done?" I ask


    "Yes, good work," he says and smiles.


    He actually looks like he''s proud that I''ve been able to convince most souls.


    Eclipse holds the soul stone in her palm while she moves her fingers over it with her other hand. "Clover, why is it that we cannot feel anything?"


    "Because you don''t have a body."


    "But I felt pain after I died."


    "That wasn''t physical pain."


    In his face there''s the same annoyance I had seen whenever I asked my unending questions.


    "It feels like it is," she answers absent-mindedly.


    Clover looks at me with pleading eyes. "Please take over."


    He continues down the airplane, opposite of the opening, and once I turn back Eclipse is smiling at me.


    "Sometimes," I begin and sit down at the seat behind her, "you''ll feel things, both pain and regular feelings of touch. Pain often comes if your soul is wounded ¨C at least that''s how I''ve understood it."


    I stare at Clover at the end of the plane. He''s extending his hand and lets the stone fall; it stays in the middle of the air and unfolds itself.


    "There''s even a place in the Eleven," I keep my eyes on Clover, "the well. If you touch the liquid, you can feel your own skin and whatever you touch for a few minutes."


    Clover doesn''t react.


    "Really?" Eclipse asks, I turn towards her again. "You''ll have to show me that sometime, Orchid."


    Before I can answer Clover starts talking, "we have to deliver the souls. I''ll leave Eclipse in the eleven. You can create a door to the hall of souls. I''ll be there once I''m done."


    I''ve never visited the hall of souls, it wasn''t allowed under the apprenticeship. Clover always left me in the Eleven and then delivered the souls to the hall. I had not even known where or how they delivered them. Nor did I know how I could get myself there.


    "And I cannot accompany you?" Eclipse asks.


    "No, you can''t. You''re still my apprentice."


    She grimaces slightly out of disappointment.


    "And how do I get to the hall of souls?" I ask.


    "The same as always. Think of it when you open or knock the door."


    "I''ve never seen it, Clover," I remind him.


    "You don''t have to have seen it. It will know where it will lead you as long as your intent and thoughts are clear."


    I sigh and get up from my seat with the gate-stone in my hands. Once I''ve created it, I knock while thinking of the hall of souls. Once I open it, I realize it''s the same whirling darkness as always.


    Clover leans closer and whispers, "If you ever by the well again, don''t touch the liquid."


    I turn towards him to ask what he means, but before I have the time, he lays a steady hand against my back and gently pushes me into the darkness.


    I stumble into the hall of souls. It''s a gigantic hall with dark blue walls, in the middle stands a large glass tube with thousands of small holes. Shining, light blue orbs hang in the air while they slowly move through the room like dust.


    The gate behind me is gone and the stone lays on the floor. Once I put it in my pocket, I slowly cross the hall. It tickles my skin when the orbs float by my cheek. It feels peaceful, and it leaves a faint smile on my lips.


    Around the glass tube sits a white, shining fence. It feels warm against my skin, like it has been heated underneath sunlight. I focus on the shining orbs inside of the tube, they slowly move upwards until I cannot see them anymore. It reminds me of the well in the Eleven, how it reaches far outside of the glass globe. This tube is the same, it continues out through the ceiling where I cannot see where it ends ¨C if it even has an end. I''ve learnt to not put any logical explanations and rules in this world.


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    I don''t know how long I stay there and think about life, before and after death. What it means to be reborn or reach the paradise. Paradise would be different depending on who you''d ask. To me it would be a place where I could live with my family and friends ¨C whether they''re dead or not. For others it might be reliving their favorite memories, and for the woman on the mountain it would be what heaven is described in her religion.


    "It''s quite spectacular, isn''t it?"


    I almost let go of the fence when I hear Clover''s voice. I hadn''t even heard him approaching, even though my own footsteps had echoed throughout the hall.


    "You easily forget the time here."


    Sometimes I wonder if my thoughts and emotions are still connected to Clover, or if he''s just good at reading facial expressions.


    "Did it take long?" I ask and my thoughts quickly drift to what he had said about the well, but I cannot yet show my curiosity.


    "Not really. I took Eclipse to her room, then I headed straight here."


    He takes the stone from his pocket, most of the soul-dust drift towards one of the holes in the glass tube. He follows the dust with his gaze as they enter the tube and twirls around each other as they float upwards. I let go of the fence and pick up my stone from my pocket. It does the same as Clover''s did, and once it''s done I put it back.


    "So," I begin. I''m not sure how to phrase it without sounding too curious, "you said something about the well?"


    "I did?" He asks with a grin.


    I stare at him. "Be serious now."


    "You''ll have to be more specific."


    He puts both hands on the fence and turns his attention to the tube.


    "You told me not to touch the liquid."


    "Ah... Yeah, I did say that."


    I sigh.


    "Stop being cheeky. Tell me why I shouldn''t touch the liquid."


    "You noticed why, didn''t you?"


    "No, in fact I didn''t," I lie.


    I had noticed it was a bad idea. The sorrow and desire that laid in that well almost made me jump in. Sorrow had always been something I hated to feel, that I willingly wanted to plunge myself into it was strange and alarming.


    "Didn''t you feel the sorrow? The desire?"


    The playful tone is no longer there, now he sounds annoyed. Like this game was only fun for a while, now he''s settled back into the usual grumpy Clover.


    "Oh? So you''ve touched it too?"


    Clover watches me the same way that Blomst had done. Like he''s trying to figure out what I''m doing. For once it seems like he has no idea what I''m thinking or feeling. It makes me feel like I''ve won something, even though I thought I had made it clear to myself that I should move on from figuring out what''s going on with Clover.


    "I have touched the liquid," he admits, something I didn''t think he''d do, "and I regret I ever did. How much did you touch, Orchid?"


    "Just my fingers."


    He seems relieved. "You were lucky. If you submerge too much of your body, it feels like your soul is ripped apart."


    I swallow, it feels harder than normally. "When did this happen?"


    "Long ago. I thought Blomst would tear me apart after the well had its turn. But she just cried with me, I was bedridden for weeks."


    It''s hard to imagine Blomst crying.


    "I hate that fucking well," he says and the grip around the fence becomes tighter, "so make me a favor, Orchid. Stay away from it. It only brings sorrow and pain."


    He looks at the glass tube. I have no desire to leave just yet, and I believe that Clover is thinking the same. We remain watching the soul-dust inside the tube. It slowly floats upwards. Eventually the silence will force us to leave the hall of souls, and I''ll be forced to return to the Eleven. To my childhood''s room, where I write down names whenever I have free time. I try to think of something to say, anything so that we can stay here for a while longer.


    "Did you talk to Artemis?" I ask.


    He tenses up and focuses on an orb that floats past him.


    "Yes, I talked to her."


    It surprises me, I had honestly thought he wouldn''t.


    "How did it go?"


    "She was upset that I couldn''t explain anything, she thought she had the right to know..."


    "Why don''t you tell her? I can understand why you''re not telling me anything, but I thought you two were closer than that."


    It''s low of me to put it that way. I know it will hurt, but it might also be exactly what he needs to hear.


    His hands become tense as they grip harder around the fence.


    "It''s not that simple," he answers harshly.


    "It is that simple, isn''t it?"


    "It''s not. This is not about a right to know. Orchid, if you..."


    His jaw tenses up, and he quickly turns around. I follow his gaze and on the other side of the room are two other soul wanderers. One of them is Nine, the man I occasionally see at the dining hall. He''s dressed in the same striped shirt whose sleeves end slightly above his elbows. They show off the deep, open cuts on his arms. Once they''re closer I realize the second soul wanderer is a guardian, just like the others he carries a mark on his forehead ¨C three round gemstones in the same purple color of his eyes and make-up. The middle one is the largest while the other two are smaller. He''s taller than both Nine and Clover, and likely over two meters tall. The straight, blue hair hangs over his shoulders. His facial features are sharp, especially his cheek bones. The foxlike eyes sweep over the room and stops at us.


    Clover lets go of the fence but keeps the very tensed posture when we''re approached by them.


    "Clover," the guardian says with a surprisingly soft voice.


    Nine stands beside him with the same empty gaze as he usually has whenever I see him in the dining hall.


    Clover doesn''t say anything; the tall man looks over at me and smiles.


    "I''ve never met you. What''s your name?" He asks and points a long, pale finger at me. His nails are painted the same purple color as his eyes.


    There''s something uncomfortable with him, something that makes me want to hide.


    "Her name is Orchid," Nine answers before I can muster the courage to answer.


    I''m surprised he even remembers my name; the one time he had addressed me he hadn''t seemed very approachable or interested in holding a conversation. Yet he somehow was able to remember a name I never directly told him.


    "Seems like Nine is your personal tongue," he says and smiles.


    Clover grabs my arm, and the same warmth that I had felt when touching the fence forces itself through my thick sweater''s material and touches my skin.


    "We were just heading out," Clover says and pulls me slightly away from the guardian.


    Yet Clover stays, like he awaits permission to leave the hall. I don''t have to ask for the guardian''s name. After everything that Clover and Cerberus have said, I know that this man is First.


    "Let them go," Nine says and extends his hand with the soul stone.


    "In a moment," First says while still staring us down, "you seemed to have a very deep conversation earlier. Why the sudden need to leave? You must have talked about something truly interesting, if our presence made you stop in the middle of it."


    "My apprenticeship. We were talking about my apprenticeship," I answer before Clover can, "It''s over, and we were just leaving the soul dust from my last contract with Clover."


    "Curious, you can talk yourself, it seems," he says and chuckles in a way that makes it sound more like a scoff. "Of course, then I''ll have to congratulate you, for fulfilling your apprenticeship."


    He smiles, and I give him a short nod with pursed lips.


    "You may leave," he says and waves his hand in a swatting motion.


    Clover pulls me away from First and Nine, whose stone opens up. The soul-dust that comes out is not like ours. It looks the same, but it doesn''t have the same poetic pattern in how it moves. It''s chaotic and unpredictable.


    Clover stops at the other side of the hall; in his hand he''s already holding the gate stone. I open my mouth to say something, but when he glares at me I close it again. The stone folds itself out, and this time Clover doesn''t knock. He tears open the door and won''t release his grip on my arm as we step through.


    I had expected the eleven on the other side, but when I step outside I see a green forest. A path made of large logs cut in the middle leads up a hill, where gigantic trees stand on each side. Between them hang bridges of rope and wood. They lead to different buildings, whose round windows are home to a warm light. The sky is different too. No glass globe, no eternal light. It has already started to darken.


    This is not the living world; the creatures and the magical appearance gives that away. But this feels more alive than being stuck inside a glass globe, where the grass is of the wrong color and the trees all too strange.


    I take a few steps forward.


    "Damnit," Clover mutters behind me. "I didn''t think this through. I just wanted to leave. Your apprenticeship is technically over, so it shouldn''t be any problem."


    He doesn''t sound as sure of himself as he seems to want to.


    I study the hill with the gigantic trees and its buildings. How moss covers a large part of the houses. Some of the buildings are created from the tree''s stem, and some of them are built around. I cannot stop staring and wonder how I''d rather live here than in the eleven. But then I might have hated this place too, I after all thought the Eleven was beautiful.


    "I can take you back to the Eleven," Clover says like I didn''t have my own gate stone.


    "No."


    "No?" he asks and frowns.


    "I don''t want to go back yet. You did tell me you would show me the Oak once my apprenticeship was over."


    He sighs. "Yeah, but maybe not right now."


    I ignore him and start the path made of logs. In the Eleven there''s all kind of creatures, here it seems more themed. One of them is a large brown creature whose back have a thick layer of moss attached to it. It looks like a long cape that is dragging itself against the logs. Another creature is small but plump with a red mushroom as a hat, it looks too big for its little head. It keeps correcting it with its white arm. Many of them have antlers that grow out of their heads, while others are green with moss and bark growing on their skin.


    "Orchid!" Clover calls out after me and soon catches up.


    He grabs my arm and it looks like he''s ready to ask me to go home, but once I turn towards him he must realize that I need this.


    He loosens the grip. "If I show you around, will you promise to go home afterwards?"


    "I promise."


    He lets go of my arm.


    "Alright, then I''ll show you what the Oak has to offer."

 Chapter 21 (part 1)

    The first place Clover takes me to is a small bar built into one of the gigantic trees, the windows are circles carved out of the bark. Crosses made of thin branches fits perfectly in the holes and a warm, yellow light comes from the inside. Around the tree sits a platform of wood, and the only way of getting here is by climbing rickety wooden stairs that circles the tree trunk.


    I stand next to the fence made of branches and twigs. We are almost all the way up the hill, the creatures that wander the log-path seem much smaller from here. Most of them are holding their lanterns, while some are floating in the air. It looks like a train of light from the tree''s first floor.


    "If we had been a little earlier, we could have arrived before it got dark," he says like it would have been something bad that it was already evening.


    "No, this is perfect."


    He doesn''t question me; he might already have figured out why I prefer the evening and darkness over the day and light.


    "Shall we?" He asks and points at the round door. A lantern hangs above and lights up a raven carved into the surface.


    I put the train of light into my memories, how it looks like and how beautiful and magical it seems from where I''m standing. Once I''m sure I''ll remember it, I step into the bar with Clover. Only a few soul wanderers sit at the tables. There are more creatures here, they''re laughing and talking, some raise their mugs that looks like tree trunks. They sweep it all down in a few gulps.


    "Clover!" a creature shouts behind the bar.


    It extends both of its fat arms and Clover smiles larger than I''ve ever seen him smile. The creature looks like a troll from Scandinavian folklore, but a tad more toadlike. It''s covered in warts and the color of its skin is greyish brown. From the round head hangs thin white hair and moss grows upon the large arms, as well as bark on the toadlike hands.


    "Mort!" Clover says and shakes the creature''s hand eagerly.


    I''ve never heard a creature''s name before, and the two I had talked to had been unpleasant meetings. It feels like we''re living in two completely different worlds ¨C like I shouldn''t even talk to them. But no matter how you look at it, this Mort is Clover''s friend.


    Clover sits down at one of the barstools.


    "We haven''t seen you in almost a week," a woman says. You''d believe she was a human if it wasn''t for her green skin and the moss that grows upon her neck. "He was worried for you."


    She makes a head gesture towards Mort.


    "I''ve been busy."


    I sit down at the barstool and for the first time I feel shy in front of these creatures. I had a tendency to ignore them, but this was different. Mort turns his large head. His eyes are fully black, he doesn''t need any pupils or irises for me to know that he''s staring right at me.


    "Who is this friend of yours?" Mort asks and points at me with one of the bark-coated fingers.


    Clover turns to me and waits, like he''s expecting me to introduce myself.


    "Uh, Orchid," I eventually say.


    Mort widens his black eyes and leans closer to Clover. "Wasn''t that your new apprentice?"


    Clover nods with a tense smile. Mort laughs so loud it feels like the whole bar is shaking. He pushes Clover''s chest with one of his toadlike hands.


    "Was it her who you complained so much about?"


    "You complained about me?"


    I raise my eyebrows with an amused smile.


    "You did ask a lot of questions," Clover answers.


    The woman takes a few steps forward, it makes Mort back away slightly to let her pass by.


    "The fact that he took you here means he likes you, no matter how much he complains. You must have done something right." She smiles and reaches out a green hand covered in moss. "Moria."


    I shake her hand.


    "Clover is bad at that friendship thing. Consider yourself lucky you were able to knock down that wall of his," Mort adds.


    Clover rolls his eyes.


    "Is it your first time here?" Moria asks and take a step back to let Mort go back to his previous spot.


    "Yeah, even the first time I visit another world than mine."


    "Well then!" Mort extends his arms. "Welcome to the Oak and the Viking."


    "The Viking?" I ask.


    "The name of this bar," Moria says.


    It fascinates me, why they decided to name this bar after Vikings. I cannot associate anything here with it. It fits with the rest of the Oak, where everything seems to have a forest theme. There is no difference in here. On its walls grows branches and moss. The barstools look like elongated tree stumps with vines growing on top of the bark.


    "It''s not named after Vikings, Orchid," Clover says.


    "Okay, so what is the Viking then?"


    "An old soul wanderer." Moria leans against a wall behind the bar, right next to a door leading into another room. "He died at the Viking era, as a Viking. Most soul wanderers from that time hasn''t existed in centuries. He was one of those who were left. Soul wanderers started calling him the Viking, the nickname stuck for us beings as well."


    "He was a good man, and quite the drinker too. He helped us build the inside of the bar, so it was given that we''d name the bar after him," Mort says and smiles.


    Moria caresses the moss over the back of her hand, and a small yet comforting smile lays on her lips.


    Clover smiles too, yet sadder than the other two.


    "Did you know him?" I ask him.


    "Yes, I''ve mentioned him before. The Raven was his name."


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    The man that held Clover''s apprenticeship. Every time he had brought him up it had always been in past tense.


    "What happened to him?"


    Clover tenses up and looks down at his hands above the bar counter.


    "He left us, as all soul wanderers do eventually," Moria adds.


    "What do you mean?"


    "A soul wanderer is not in service forever, often two-hundred or three-hundred years. It is always a choice, but most cannot last for more than a few hundreds of years. When a soul wanderer has been in service for at least two hundred years they can give their soul to a guardian that brings it to the hall of souls, where a large funeral is held to thank them for their service. Or that was how the Raven described it when he said he would accept Vrana''s proposition," Mort says.


    "Wait, Vrana''s proposition?" I ask.


    "Vrana was the Raven''s guardian. Every soul wanderer gets an offer or proposition, whatever you want to call it, once we have reached our two-hundred year. We can say no, which the Raven did for many years, but fifty years ago he decided to accept the offer," Clover says.


    Mort shakes his gigantic, round head so the thin hair sways back and forth. "I never understood why he accepted it; it went against everything he had said. But no matter what I said, nor how much we pleaded, he was firm in his decision. I usually don''t attend a soul wanderers funeral, but that day I did. I''d do it thousands of times for him."


    Once the silence settles between us, the bar is filled with the other creatures'' conversations. They seem to have no desire to listen in on ours and focuses entirely on their own.


    "Gee! This mood I don''t like," Mort says.


    Clover looks at him warily.


    "Get them both a Viking''s Wrath!" Mort says to Moria with a large, almost goofy smile.


    "Uh, no. You''re not giving Orchid that crap," Clover protests.


    "Is it Alcohol?" I ask.


    Moria takes down two mugs from one of the shelves. It''s the same kind that most creatures are drinking from ¨C those that looks like tree trunks.


    "You could say that," Mort says with a grin.


    "Mort... Don''t."


    I scoff. "What do you think of me? That I cannot hold my liquor?"


    "Have you forgotten you''re dead?"


    "No, if you haven''t noticed that little detail is kind of hard to forget."


    Clover pushes a coal-coated hand over his face, for a while I think he''ll groan out of annoyance.


    "It''s not the same as alcohol," he says each word slowly and clearly, like he was talking to a child.


    "You''re saying I''m going to blackout?"


    "More than that. If you truly want to try it, then you should start with something else at first."


    Moria approaches us with two empty mugs in each hand. "Do you want Viking''s Wrath or not?"


    "Give us a Frigg," Clover answers.


    "You''re boring," I protest while glaring at him.


    He leans closer. "You''ll thank me once you actually try Viking''s Wrath that I didn''t let you drink it now. Besides, Frigg is no weak drink either. But it won''t make you wake up in another world without your gate stone."


    He leans back again.


    "Cause that''s the worst thing that can happen," I say and stick out my tongue at him; he answers it with a scoff, but a slight smile is still visible.


    I''m not sure what makes me act so childish and playful, maybe it''s the feeling of being in a bar again. That it''s funny to banter with him, and that he banters back. For the first time in a long time, I feel happy.


    "Frigg it is," Moria says and walks out the door behind the counter.


    I wonder how they make the drinks, if it works differently from the living world.


    "I guess you''re done with the apprenticeship since you''re here, Orchid," Mort says.


    "Mm-hmm, I finished it today, actually."


    "What area did Blomst put you in?" he asks and pulls a piece of cloth over the bar counter.


    Clover''s eyes follow the motion of Mort''s hand, he reminds me a little of a cat.


    "Health and sickness."


    "I think that will fit you," Clover says, eyes still on the piece of cloth.


    "That''s what Cerberus said."


    "Cerberus?"


    He looks up at me.


    "Mm-hmm, or that''s what Blomst told me he had said."


    Clover chuckles. "I can imagine Blomst wasn''t very happy about that. Guardians tend to be possessive."


    I see it more as a power play. I think the love she has for Clover is real, otherwise she wouldn''t have cried for him when he was bedridden after he had fallen ¨C or thrown himself ¨C into the well. That doesn''t mean that her love is healthy.


    "You could say that."


    Moria comes back from the other room behind the bar counter. She carries two mugs, and the colorful foam is a few centimeters above the edge. She places them in front of us.


    "Here you go," she says and wipes her finger over the brown apron.


    We thank her and Clover raises his mug, cheering them, before he takes a sip of the drink.


    The colorful foam reminds me of the evening-sky, just when the sun is going down and colors of pink and orange covers the sky.


    "You''re not going to taste it? Was it all talk about taking on Viking''s Wrath?" Clover says with a grin as he takes another sip.


    I glare at him, but he just laughs. I finally take a sip of the drink, like the dango-looking food I don''t expect it to taste anything. Not only does my entire mouth tickle, but it also has a strong taste. And it''s good, sweeter than I had imagined and something I''ve never tasted before. It doesn''t taste like alcohol at all.


    "Oh!" I place the mug on the counter and hold a hand over my mouth. "It tastes."


    "Of course it does," Clover says and takes another sip of the drink.


    "All drinks were made by me and the Viking. He also named them after himself or his religion," Moria says and pulls a hand through her straight, brown hair. "He wanted all the drinks to be for both beings and soul wanderers. I cannot taste them, but I can feel the feeling of them. Maybe not exactly the way you do."


    "And I''m here to be the handsome bar owner," Mort says and winks.


    "He''s here because he''s better with people than I am," she corrects him. "I don''t have the patience for drunk idiots, whether they are beings, soul wanderers or guardians."


    I take another sip of the drink. My entire body feels warm, and the tickling feeling moves down my throat, towards my chest and stomach.


    "Guardians come here?" I ask.


    "Sometimes. Most of the time it''s just Vrana and Liria, sometimes we see First. He''s such an arrogant fool that every time I see his pale face, I want to throw him out. Blomst and Couleur haven''t been here in many years."


    "What about Cerberus?" I ask. There''s no point in asking of Saturn, I have a hard time imagining him at a bar even though I know he''s much older than he looks.


    Moria shrugs. "I''ve never seen him before."


    I take another sip. I can feel it all the way to my fingers. The room is lighter, and Moria and Mort are shining. Not in the same way that the living humans are, but more of a beautiful white light. Even Clover looks different. He''s not shining, but he''s gleaming. Like tiny particles of diamonds covers his skin and clothes. I slowly move my hands to my cheeks, as usual I cannot feel my skin, but I can feel the pleasant heat. I smile as it tickles and warms my fingers.


    "It seems to have taken an effect on you," Mort says and laughs, even Moria smiles.


    I answer by taking another sip of the fantastic drink; I enjoy the taste and the tickling feeling. The lanterns on the wall burn beautifully, it makes me wonder how the train of light I saw from this floor''s view would look like now.


    I down the rest of the drink and slam the mug down at the counter. Clover stares down his own mug with a small smile on his lips. He keeps gleaming brightly, like the lanterns at the wall. Like the train of light.


    I want to see it.


    "Hurry! Down it!" I say a little louder than I had planned.


    He looks up at me, still smiling. "Why?"


    He doesn''t seem as intoxicated by the drink, or he''s just good at pretending.


    "I want to see the train of light."


    "The train of what?" Mort asks.


    Clover turns his attention to his large toadlike friend. "I think she means the beings that wander up and down the pathway with their lanterns."


    He downs the rest of the drink, then places the mug on the counter. He searches one of his torn pockets.


    "Oh, no, you don''t have to pay," Mort says.


    Clover frowns. "Of course I have to."


    Mort shakes his head so his white hair sways, it looks like stars are falling from it. "No, see it as a thank you for a pleasant conversation. Now then, the train of light will soon end."


    Clover gives him a pleading look, but Mort straightens his back and brings his round head up.


    "Thank you," Clover says, but he sounds more bothered than thankful. "Come on, the train of light awaits."


    I follow him to the door, but before we leave Moria sighs and says, "your pleasant conversations are going to make us bankrupt." But Mort just laughs.


    I forget to breathe once I see the beautiful train of light. Everything is shining and gleaming, like a dragon made of fire is slowly moving its way up the long, steep hill.


    It feels like an eternity to descend the long rickety wooden stairs, I focus on the beautiful train of light while Clover leads me down. He''s still gleaming like he had done in the bar, and the other soul wanderers we pass gleam in the same fashion. The creatures shine like Moria and Mort.


    Clover leads me straight into the train of light. Once inside I run down the pathway and dance around the creatures and their fiery lanterns. Clover shouts something about being careful, but I don''t see the point. If I fall it''s not like it''s going to hurt.


    It feels like I''ll catch on fire from this heat inside of me. I run down the pathway, completely free from any concerns or insecure thoughts.

 Chapter 21 (part 2)

    It took an hour or so to become myself again when we''re no longer shining nor gleaming. There are only a few creatures left on the pathway, leaving only tiny, moving lights.


    The Oak is smaller than the Eleven, around the world hangs a thick mist, too thick to see through. I asked Clover what would happen if you went through it, he told me that I''d just end up on the other side of the world.


    Clover had taken me to the second highest place in the Oak. From here it feels like I can touch the stars above us. There''s no building on this platform, only a flat terrace that circulates the tallest tree''s crown. There''s a fence made of branches around the platform.


    The only thing taller than this tree is this world''s well. It doesn''t look like the one in the Eleven. This well is built into a gigantic, open tree. A large part of the tree''s front is missing, and the blue liquid is coming out of the bark and slowly floats down to the depth of the tree. The doors are built into the bark, and above each one of them hangs a bowl overflowing with blue, gleaming liquid. The trees foundation is too large and tall for any creature or soul wanderer to reach, nor is there any stairs like the one in the Eleven.


    "What do you think?" Clover asks.


    "It looks different from the Eleven."


    "Is that a good thing?"


    I smile. "Very. It''s beautiful, in a calming way. Not in the in-your-face-kind-of-way that the Eleven is."


    "Ah, I see what you mean," he laughs.


    I''m thankful that he showed me this when I needed it the most. Thankful that he introduced me to Mort and Moria. I see the creatures in an entirely different way now, they''re not as foreign and scary as I first thought.


    "I needed this," he says.


    I had planned on saying something similar.


    "Did you?" I ask and lay my hands above the fence while I focus on the strange well on the other side of the world.


    "I''ve been stressed. I needed a night where I could just relax."


    "I needed this too," I admit.


    He leans against the fence. "I noticed."


    "And how did you notice that?" I ask, a bit too curious for my own good.


    "You were happy, for real this time. No game. No mask."


    I swallow and try not to show that it caught me off guard.


    "That was probably Frigg you saw," I say and laugh, I''m somehow able to make it sound natural.


    He also laughs and straightens his back when he continues to focus on the view in front of us. "Maybe it was."


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    I''m not sure why, but this conversation leaves a depth in my stomach that I can''t say I like.


    "By the way, I have a question, one that I''ve thought of for a while," I say when the feeling only grows deeper. "When we were in the hall of souls you wanted to leave when we met First and Nine. I''ve heard some things of First and nothing good. Is everything true?"


    "There''s a lot of rumors about First," he sighs, "and most of it is true. First is one of the worst and most arrogant of the guardians. I knew he wouldn''t just let us leave the hall without gaining something. I''m sure he gets gratification out of his own power play."


    "Isn''t that how all Guardians are?"


    "To a certain degree, maybe. Most guardians know they''re powerful. The only power play they play is between themselves. They know we''re aware of their power. However, First likes to remind us about the difference between guardians and soul wanderer. Not that I see a point with it, we''re well aware of it without his arrogant and fear mongering reminders."


    "And Nine?" I ask.


    "Nine is... Nine." He sighs at the sight of my confused expression. "Most I know find him unsettling. It''s said he never uses the Stormcoin. I know us older soul wanderers can seem apathic towards reaping, but we all use Stormcoins. I''m not sure there''s any truth to the rumors, but he is still unsettling to be around."


    I look at the well again. I cannot stop thinking of what Rampion had mentioned, and what did Clover think First would ask us? Was he scared that I''d tell him we were speaking of the well and that Clover is clearly hiding something? I haven''t said it out loud yet, all I had told him was that Artemis noticed something was wrong.


    "It''s getting late. Shall I make up a door for you?" He asks.


    "Clover," I begin with my gaze focused on the well, "what did you think First would ask us if we didn''t leave the hall?"


    He lets out a loud scoff that sounds more like a cough. "What are you talking about?"


    "You wanted to leave the hall quickly. You were scared I''d say something, what exactly were you scared of?"


    He has lowered his eyebrows, while is body posture seems all too stiff.


    "It doesn''t matter, the thing with First is¨C"


    "Rampion told me that he saw you at the well," I cut him off.


    Clover recoils and gulps. I know I''ve gone too far. It''s not like I can take it back now.


    "Orchid," Clover whimpers. It sounds like a fragile warning.


    But I cannot back down now.


    "Why were you at the well? Rampion saw something in your face, you avoid telling Artemis anything and you''re scared of what I''ll tell a guardian. What are you hiding?"


    "I..." He sucks in the night air through his lips and the fear in his face disappears. "I hide nothing."


    We both know that the lie is easily seen through.


    "Do you believe I''ll actually buy that?"


    By now, I know that I''ve gone too far. That I''m asking for things that I''m not so sure I deserve to know.


    "I think it''s best you go home now."


    He picks up the gate stone from his pocket and the black door is created in front of us.


    "Seriously?" I ask.


    Clover doesn''t look angry anymore, his face has become impersonal and empty. It reminds me how it had looked when I saw him the first time on the country road between forest in Sweden. He''s playing his game, with his mask fully on. Like I''m some sort of contract he''s reaping.


    "It''s time for you to go home," he repeats.


    "Clover," I say in a softer tone than before. I know what this will lead to.


    He opens the door without knocking and take a few steps back. "Can you please leave, Orchid? I have things to do."


    I doubt there''s any truth in that. I should never have said anything.


    "Okay," I say and take a long look at him before I continue, "we can talk about this tomorrow."


    He sighs. "There''s nothing to talk about."


    I''m a hypocrite. Every time Clover brought up my troubles, I shut him out. But when Clover is on that side, I push myself too close and try to force him to give me answers he has no desire to hand over. But I know he''ll avoid me if I don''t solve this. He''s the only person I have in this world. I don''t want to be alone.


    "Orchid. Go," he says when I don''t move.


    I take a last look at him before I do what he asks and step through the black door to the Eleven.

 ACT 2: Chapter 22 - (part 1)

    It''s what I feared. Clover had done everything in his power to avoid me. No matter where I went, I couldn''t find him. I had even gone to the Oak''s dining hall, but no one had seen him. Neither had Mort and Moria. Artemis met him early morning, he had been on a very bad mood and after that he''d disappeared. It was obvious that Clover was in a world I''d never heard of, which meant hundreds ¨C maybe even thousands ¨C of possible worlds. There he could avoid having the one conversation he feared.


    I had also tried thinking of Clover before I opened the door. But I walked out at the same place, like he''d blocked the magic somehow. Clover had been here far longer than I, and he''d clearly learned a few tricks I hadn''t gotten the opportunity to learn.


    I regret that I ever brought up the well and Rampion. It had been better if I kept my conversations to simple topics. I could have talked about Moria and Mort, even about the Raven. Everything was better than the well that always seemed to force itself into my thoughts. If I hadn''t been such a fool, then Clover wouldn''t have avoided me, and I wouldn''t have spent my one free day in an unsuccessful chase.


    Once I realized that I''d likely not find Clover and there was no point in another wild-goose chase, I instead spent the morning writing down names in my notebooks.


    A large brown gate folds itself out in the middle of my room, I''m still sitting at the desk with a pen in hand. Rampion ¨C as usual dressed in the large bear costume ¨C steps out from the whirling darkness.


    "A child''s bedroom?" is the first thing he asks.


    Rampion looks around my room, where all my deepest memories are hidden. It feels intrusive and intimate. It hadn''t felt like that when Clover was in my room, maybe because he was never there for very long and didn''t study it the same way that Rampion does. Clover just stepped out of the door, made sure everything was okay and then left again. He hadn''t even looked around. But since Rampion sees my room, I guess Clover simply didn''t care.


    I sit at the desk with my notebook open and a pen in my hand. The whole page is filled with names ¨C mine and my family.


    "They don''t like it when we do that," he says and points a large paw towards the notebook.


    "Are you planning to tell on me?"


    I feel like a first grader when asking that question, which is more fitting than I''d like to admit with my current bedroom and Rampion''s costume.


    "No. It has nothing to do with me."


    I sigh of relief. I have enough to worry about. Clover and my memories are two of them and I don''t need to add angry guardians.


    "What''s your name? Your real one," he asks.


    It feels like he understands, that he''s going through the same thing I am.


    I try to say it out loud ¨C my name. My mouth is open, but my tongue is not moving, like somebody is holding it and forbids me saying it. It has always been hard after Blomst took my name, but if I tried long enough, I could eventually say and pronounce it. Now I cannot even get a single sound out of my mouth.


    "Just point," he mutters.


    I underline Jonna with my pen.


    "Jonna?" He asks.


    I widen my eyes. For some reason I thought I wouldn''t be able to say it. Whenever I thought of Eclipse real name it was hard to focus on it. He pronounced it perfectly without any hardships.


    "Wait, are you Swedish? Or Danish? Or wherever the name comes from?"


    I hadn''t been so sure first, but now it''s obvious he''s also Swedish. The V?rmland accent I hear seems to be real and nothing this strange world has created. I should have understood it, all others spoke in my accent, and he was the only one who didn''t.


    "Swedish... Like you, I guess?"


    I close the notebook.


    "How do you know I''m Swedish?" he asks.


    "Your V?rmland accent?"


    "I speak in a V?rmland accent?" He asks.


    Maybe I was wrong. His accent was weaker than those I had heard in V?rmland. At first, I thought he tried to hide it, but how can you hide something you''re not even aware you''re doing?


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    "I think so," I say and lay down the pen at the desk.


    "Whatever," he mutters, "we need to leave so we can get this crap out of the way."


    He walks back to the door that''s still standing in my room. The orange crystalized veins forms what I guess is a rampion bellflower.


    "What''s your name?" I ask and get up from the chair.


    "Rampion, you know this."


    "No, I mean your name when you were alive."


    He laughs bitterly. "How the hell should I know? I''ve been here for three years, and I don''t remember shit."


    Three years. It would take less than three years to forget everything. Even more likely it''ll take a year ¨C maybe just a few months ¨C before I''ll forget who I was.


    Rampion steps through the darkness. After what happened with Clover the other day, I have no desire to do anything ¨C specially not reaping. Not that I''d have much of a choice here. Unless I want to throw myself in front of another shattered soul.


    I take a deep breath and follow Rampion through the door. On the other side lays a hospital corridor whose walls are clad in blinding white. Nurses, with the same blue light as Emma, wanders down the corridor. Some of them walk straight through us like we were made of air.


    Rampion catches the orange stone in his large paw. He doesn''t put it in any pocket, not that I think that the costume has any. Instead, the stone disappears, like he has an invisible place he can call it forth from.


    As usual I cannot understand the living, I hear them talk and it sounds hollow and incomprehensible. The longer I am in the realm of the dead, the more confusing the living languages sound. I can still understand writing. While I don''t understand the language on the signs, it looks like Polish.


    "You''ll have to get used to hospitals. Most of those we reap die here," he says with a nonchalant tone.


    "Why are we so far away from the contract?" I ask.


    "Because he cannot see me like this."


    "What do you mean?"


    "Stop with those stupid questions. If you shut up and watch you''ll get it," he snaps.


    I had forgotten it was Rampion I was talking to for a moment when he almost didn''t seem rude.


    I keep the rest of my questions to myself, I rather not annoy him more than I''ve already done, even though I don''t think I''ve done anything to annoy him.


    Rampion stops in front of a door. A light moves around him, it climbs the bear costume and in front of me is not the same Rampion ¨C it''s not even a man, but a beautiful woman. She''s dressed in a summer dress and her white feet are barefoot. The blonde hair touches her back and her eyes reminds me of blue, cracked ice.


    "Ho¨CHow?" I stutter.


    The woman rolls her eyes. This person is without a doubt Rampion, even if she doesn''t look like him.


    "Is this an illusion?"


    "Shapeshifting, and it''s a bit more complicated. I''ll explain everything after I''ve reaped the old codger''s soul. Wait with your questions until then."


    Blomst had mentioned that you could take the shape of a human that had some sort of connection with the soul we''d reap. I had expected us to be ourselves and that it''d be more of an illusion.


    But Rampion is this woman to each little millimeter. I doubt there''s any mistakes in her appearance, she''d likely looked and sounded exactly like this before she died.


    "You can follow inside but keep to the background. Don''t make any eye contact, and if he looks or speaks to you, ignore him. Got it?"


    After I promised to not create any concerns we step through the door. As Rampion has requested, I stay in the background, far away from the man in the bed. He''s pale with sunken cheeks. There are dark circles around his eyes and the sweat is pouring down his face. There''s no mistaking it, this man is very sick. He lives but can still see us, or rather Rampion. The man sits up in the bed. There''s longing in his eyes and he gives the woman a painful but joyful smile.


    "Ewa, you''re here again," he says.


    I hadn''t expected to understand him. There are two voices, one is muffled and speaks in what sounds like Polish. But it''s so quiet and strange sounding that I can barely hear it. The other voice is clear and speaks in Swedish.


    Rampion moves towards the bed; each step looks elegant. It''s hard to imagine that Rampion is inside there when she looks and holds herself so differently. Rampion sits down at the bed and holds the man''s hand.


    "Pawe?," says Rampion with a voice as soft as silk. There''s no annoyance in it, just love and care.


    He plays the role as Ewa all too well. I don''t even think he''s playing; I think he is her. Like he left his soul and let this woman take over.


    "I''m happy that I got to see you again," the man whimpers, and his eyes fills with tears. "I''m so happy."


    "I know," she whispers and wipes away a tear on his cheek with her thumb. Pawe? moves her hand against his dry, pale lips. He kisses it tenderly.


    "Do you remember?" He asks and lets go of her hand. "When I biked all the way to Pi?a for you?"


    "I remember that I didn''t want to open the door at first," Ewa laughs.


    She carefully places her hand against his chest.


    He takes a deep breath. "Thank you for letting me explain."


    His eyes flutters close. The blue light is so weak that I can barely see it anymore. It''s not very long now.


    "I thought of what you said," he whispers and slowly opens his eyes again. "I think I''m ready now."


    Ewa leans forward and kisses his forehead. When he lets go of her hand she opens her palm, inside lays the shining soul stone.


    Pawe? takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. His mouth and body relax and the machine next to the bed beeps. The soul never comes out from the body, instead the soul-dust lays above his skin and slowly moves in the familiar poetic dance.


    Nurses run into the room; the stone has already closed itself and Rampion is himself again ¨C dressed in a bear costume and an exhausted feeling draped around him ¨C and Ewa is nowhere to be seen. Like he never was her to begin with.


    "We''re done," he says and gets up from the bed.


    The nurses look over Pawe? as Rampion passes through them. The soul stone has been exchanged with the gate one. The brown door is created in the middle of the room.


    "Let''s talk then," he says.


    He leaves me on the other side. I watch as the nurses surrounds the dead Pawe?. There is something disturbing with what I just witnessed. I know I should have felt moved, yet all I can think of is how it''s just lies and betrayal. Pawe? might have died while holding his youth''s love, but it was Rampion that had taken his soul ¨C no matter how much of him had been Ewa.

 ACT 2: Chapter 22 - (part 2)

    I take a deep breath and force myself to take those last steps through the gate. The small, hidden meadow lies on the other side of the door. Rampion is already seated on the white chair.


    "Does it usually take this long for you to walk through one fucking gate?" He asks like I was minutes late.


    "What was that back in the hospital? What were you doing?" I ask, unable to hide the frustrated side of me.


    The dark and hollow eyes seem filled with irritation even though the pink mouth smiles.


    "I was reaping."


    "He thought you were someone else."


    I cross my arms and a lump gets stuck in my throat. If Pawe? was fooled this way, then it''s likely my dad was too.


    "I was someone else. All that shit didn''t come from me. That''s the thing with shapeshifting. It doesn''t just change how you look like; it invites them in, you become them. Or like a mix of them and yourself. It''s hard to explain."


    "So, was it Ewa that asked him to give you his soul?"


    I''m trying to feel sure of my own opinion. But at the same time a small thought has entered my head. I''m not that different. I wanted to lie to that woman on the mountain, to use her religion against her. Maybe Rampion had gone through the same thing, tried reaping in a sincere way but realized that he had to lie to get the best results. Or did he know from the beginning that it was impossible?


    "It was I that asked," he admits but the tone in his voice is still coated in bitter annoyance, "but she would have done the same thing."


    I frown. "How do you know that?"


    "Because I was her." He sighs, he mutters a few words I cannot catch before he continues, "how many times do I have to explain? When you shapeshift you receive all their memories, their feelings, and personalities. I was her. I was on the inside and controlled her like a game character. But everything she said and did was her. Not me. I made Ewa do what she needed to, to make sure that the old codger would give us his soul. And I know how she thinks, and she''d do the exact same thing even if it meant lying. How hard is that to understand?"


    I move close enough to place my hands on the table. "And if those who you shapeshift into would hate you using them in that way?"


    I cannot read what he''s thinking under the large bear head.


    "I take comfort in the fact that I fool them into a better choice. I rather be reborn or taken to a paradise over being a ghost in a hospital. That''s something you''ll understand eventually."


    I''ve already understood it, and I know that he''s right. I''m not even sure why I want him to admit that what he did was wrong. Am I so desperate in being right that I refuse to back down?


    I sit down at Sun''s chair. "Then how do you choose who you want to shapeshift into?"


    I''m tired of this pointless argument.


    He moves his shoulders. "I do my research."


    "And what does that entail?"


    He leans closer and I automatically recoil.


    "Arkaros has a library for the dead. You can go there and check for any relatives or friends of the contract. The only rules are that they have to be dead or be a soul wanderer."


    The Contract. It sounds unpersonal and leaves a foul feeling in my stomach.


    "There''s a library in Arkaros?"


    For some reason I have a hard time imagining libraries here, that the guardians and creatures read books. There were filled bookcases in Saturn''s room, but they felt more like a decoration to make them seem more human.


    "Yeah? There''s more than one. But this library is for soul wanderers. It''s to go through the dead."


    "I guess they don''t work as regular libraries?"


    He shrugs. "It looks like a library, on the inside anyway. With books and stuff, I mean. I''m sure you''ve realized by now nothing works like it did in the living world."


    It was as I''d expected. Here things are familiar enough, however there is something wrong, it twists your entire perception of what is real. Because this place shouldn''t be real. Yet it is.


    "How does it work?" I ask.


    "You open a book and pick a person."


    "That''s it?"


    "Look, if you want a detailed explanation of how literally everything works here then go take a look yourself. Blomst wanted me to explain how reaping works for us under this specific area. That''s what I''m doing. I''m not your personal encyclopedia."


    I roll my eyes. "Then what can you say? Or are we done here?"


    "Soon."


    He leans backwards on his chair; it stands unsteadily on its two back legs. "Either way," he takes a deep breath, like he''s bored out of his mind. "When you find whoever you want to shapeshift into, you''ll need one of their personal belongings to see their memories in the Hall of Memories. Once that is done you can shapeshift. It can be uncomfortable the first times, but you get used to it somewhat."


    I try to take in all the information and how complicated it is to shapeshift. Rampion isn''t what I''d call a good explainer. He must have noticed the worry in my eyes, he sighs and continues, "you don''t have to think too much about it. Shapeshifting isn''t something you have to do; it helps building trust between you and the contract."


    "And it makes their death feel less hopeless." It wasn''t Rampion that spoke. "I''ve heard."


    "Sun," he says and stops rocking the chair, so the two front legs stand firmly on the ground.


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    Sun sweeps her gaze over us.


    "Seems like you can play nice for a while. Surprising."


    Rampion makes a low, almost growling sound.


    Sun''s smile grows. "Watch yourself, you seem too comfortable in that ridiculous costume."


    That seemed to have touched a nerve. He raises from his chair, staring her down.


    "Don''t say that shit to me."


    "My apologies. Either way, you are awful at explaining," she says.


    I''m surprised that she even apologized. She doesn''t seem like the type to. Rampion stares at her for a few seconds longer and then sits down at the chair again, his mood still somewhat soured.


    Sun gives me a smile; it doesn''t feel as sly as the most she has given me.


    "Shapeshifting requires a lot of work. If there''s something I''ve learned, it''s that things are rarely simple, definitely not here. It can first seem like that, but when you''ve been here for longer than you''ve been alive, you''ll notice how complicated things are. Shapeshifting is no different, especially since you take a part of the soul''s essence. It''d be easier if we could take the part of the soul you need, but since we all move on or are reborn, you''ll have to take that essence from their belongings and memories. Hence why you''ll need to make a visit to the library and the Hall of Memories."


    "What even is this place?"


    "A place of memories," Rampion says.


    "Uh, yeah. I figured as much from the name."


    Sun sighs. "First and foremost, the Hall of Memories is a building in Arkaros. It''s built in two parts. One for beings, to share their memories with others. We''re forbidden to wander those halls. The second part of the building is for Soul wanderers to see and live through the memories of the dead. In the past it was common that we gave the hall a part of our soul-dust from our contacts to relive their memories. You can never choose what to relive. The chance of reliving the things you''d like is small. It didn''t stop the soul wanderers from trying though. Sometimes they could relieve memories of how it felt like with summer rain against one''s skin, a hand in yours or grass under your feet. Other times they went through childbirth, funerals, or the memories of how they died ¨C which was always the newest and clearest ones. You might have to go through the same memories of those people you''d like to shapeshift to. First and foremost, you''ll need a belonging of theirs, as well as have seen a depiction of them.


    "No soul-dust?"


    Sun shakes her head. "No, that is often long lost. Once in the Hall of Memories, after getting your hands on an item of theirs, you''ll see a few memories ¨C that you cannot choose ¨C and once you''ve seen them, you''ll have a part of them with you. Not forever, at most a few weeks. Once you shapeshift, you''ll need to focus on the memories, how they looked like, who they were and what emotions they carried. I''ve been told that after you''ve done it once, the next time will be as easy as to lift a finger. However, shapeshifting can only happen in the living world, there''s no point in trying here. If that was the case, I''m sure we''d have a solution for Rampion''s... unfortunate situation."


    She takes a long look at the bear costume.


    I take a deep breath. If I''m unlucky I might relive traumatic memories.


    "And their belongings, how do I get them?"


    "That''s when the library comes in," Rampion mumbles, seemingly bored, "you can create a world of a place they''re familiar with."


    "Most of the time it''s their childhood''s home," Sun adds.


    "And these objects of theirs, they''re not even real?"


    "They''re real. They''re not taken from the living world, that''s something we cannot do in most cases. But these objects are very real. Remember that the Realm of the Dead isn''t using the same rules as the living world is. All you need to do is find the person you''d like to shapeshift to in one of the library''s books, and head to the Hall of memories to visit the world of the person, and then reliving their memories. It can both be done in the same room. The rest will fall into place by itself, here you learn by trusting your intuition."


    I have a hard time understanding how it cannot be anything else but a copy of their possession. It has not touched the dead, nor will it exist until I create the world. But I cannot forget that Sun has lived in these worlds for hundreds of years, she has learnt how the rules in the realm work. She''s more familiar with this world than the one she once belonged to.


    "Do you understand what you''ll have to do now?" she asks.


    "Kind of."


    There are still some things that I don''t understand. Maybe it''s like Sun says, that I''ll just need to trust my intuition to fill those parts. I''ve noticed it before, how much I need to trust my intuition in these worlds.


    "She at least doesn''t look as confused anymore," Sun says and glances at Rampion that has sunk further down in his chair.


    "Just really fucking bored," he says sluggishly, "which one becomes with your overly long explanations."


    She glares at Rampion with her ancient-looking eyes. It makes me wonder how old she is, not how old she was when she died ¨C that''s easy to figure out by just looking at her ¨C but how long she''s been here. The beautiful blue dress makes me think of the medieval times. That would make her six hundred, maybe even seven hundred years old. The knowledge she must have, everything that she must have seen even if she didn''t live through it. Clover mentioned how much the world changed in only a hundred years. She must have almost been born at the same time as the Raven, yet it was likely there was a few hundred years between them.


    "I have a question for you, Sun."


    Rampion turns his large head to look at me.


    "You may ask, but I cannot promise I''ll have an answer for you."


    "Have you received a proposition from the guardians yet?"


    Sun smiles a knowing, yet curious smile. It''s hard to read, but it seems like I''ve caught her attention.


    "Proposition?" Rampion asks.


    "Curious." She leans closer. "How can a soul wanderer that has just finished their appre... Ah, Clover."


    She sighs and shakes her head. Rampion looks at the pathway that leads out of their little hidden corner, like he was expecting to see Clover there. I don''t need to turn to know that he''s not there, he''ll avoid the Eleven to the best of his abilities.


    "Clover? What the hell are you talking about?"


    "Did he tell you about the Raven?" she asks.


    "Yes. That he accepted the proposition after years of saying no," I say.


    She laughs bitterly. "He did. For years he declined it, and then suddenly from nowhere he just..."


    She raises her chin with her jaw firmly locked. She''s still clinging onto the Raven''s death. But what is fifty when you''ve lived six hundred years?


    "What the hell are you talking about?" Rampion asks again, this time louder.


    Sun pushes a hand against her face, a way of hiding the all too clear anger. After a while she lowers her hand and lets her arms hang limply on her sides. Her face is still tense, but her eyes look surprisingly young.


    "We''re speaking of an old friend. The Raven was the oldest soul wanderer... until he decided to accept the proposition for his own funeral."


    "His funeral? What does that mean?"


    Not even Rampion knew. They hadn''t even told someone who had been here for three years about the proposition.


    "Once you reach your two-hundred year you''ll receive a proposition. You''ll have the right to renounce your role as a soul wanderer. If you accept, you''ll move on like the souls we''ve reaped, and a large funeral will be held. The Raven accepted the proposition and left us."


    The last words are coated with a venomous wrath.


    "And have you gotten this proposition?" Rampion asks.


    If anything, I''d think that Rampion would be the most excited for the proposition, yet he only sounds disgusted. Maybe I had misunderstood his relationship with Sun.


    "I''m over six hundred years, Rampion. I''ve received that proposition since the end of the fifteenth-hundreds."


    Rampion kicks the table hard enough that it hits my shin.


    Sun raises her eyebrows slightly. "That wasn''t the reaction I had expected."


    "Huh, how did you think I''d react? First they force us to reap souls for two hundred years and then they keep nagging us each year that we should die instead?"


    "A lot of us accepts the first proposition, and those who say no tend to accept it a hundred years or so later. That''s why there''s so few of us that are older than three hundred. If any of us would accept the proposition, I''d believe it would be you, Rampion."


    She points at his costume.


    Even I''d say yes if I was offered, not that it would be something that I''d tell anyone. If it was common for them to accept the first proposition, then I wasn''t alone in this longing after rest.


    "The Raven said he''d never accept it, that there was something captivating with living for eternity."


    "Did they force him?"


    That question burns the inside of my stomach.


    "No, he made the choice himself. Said something about being tired and that it was time. He was even bold enough to ask me to visit his funeral."


    "And you didn''t go?" I ask.


    "Why would I? In my eyes he betrayed me the moment he accepted the proposition."


    Rampion turns his head towards Sun, I cannot see him inside of the costume, but I know he''s worried.


    I didn''t even know she had this side of her.

 Chapter 23

    I don''t remember my last name. It''s like someone stuck a hand into my mind and removed it. I barely noticed it at first, it feels natural to not know. I remember Jonna, I remember Emma. Mikael. Kristina. They are the most important to remember. Jonna, Emma, Mikael, Kristina.


    I sit up in my bed and try to say my name. My lips won''t even move. I try again. The same thing happens. If anyone would see me, they wouldn''t even notice that I was trying to say something.


    "Emma."


    It sounds like I have a large and hot piece of food in my mouth.


    "Mikael."


    It sounds strange and my entire throat is burning up from the inside.


    It''s time to forget now, I know that. It will only hurt. Yet I continue.


    "Kri... Kristina."


    It feels like I''m about to throw up scorching hot ashes for each syllable I say. I pull my knees to my chest; it hurts so much I don''t want to say anything at all. I want to cry until I cannot. I lay down again and let the tears fill my eyes. It has been a while since I cried, I don''t fight it like I normally do. I know that I have to get up and get the first contract from Blomst, but I''ll lay here until I have no choice. For once I''m happy I''m dead and don''t have a body that leaves signs of crying.


    "Emma," I say when it doesn''t hurt as much. I whimper when I feel the fiery pain grow from somewhere deep inside me.


    "Mikael." I take a deep but shivering breath. "Kristina."


    When it hurts too much I continue to cry until I can say their names again.


    ***


    Blomst sits behind her messy desk with piles of papers, they look even taller today. Her hands move quickly over the pages. Strands of hairs have escaped her hairdo and hangs down her forehead, or is tucked behind her ear.


    I take a few steps into the room filled with flowers and greenery. She looks up behind the many strands of hairs and blow them to the side. She searches for the black stone tablets where my ¨C not Clover''s nor Rampion''s but mine ¨C contracts are written.


    "There you are," she mutters.


    Blomst pulls out two black stone tablets form one of the piles. They''re a bit bigger than her hands, and somewhat thicker than cardboard. She lays them over the messiest but thinnest pile.


    "You decide yourself what you''d prefer to do with the contracts."


    Not even a greeting. I carefully pick up the tablets from the desk. There are two names written ¨C Joseph Davis and Allie Reid. Underneath their names there''s a number, the number of days until I''m supposed to reap their souls. One of them is in a few days, while the other ¨C Joseph Davis ¨C is more than a month from now.


    "It''s up to you whether you chose to go visit them right away, or when their souls are ready," she says and pulls a hand through her hair to catch the loose strands.


    Something is clearly going on with the guardians. Blomst is messy, but this is a new extreme. And they had mentioned something being stolen from Arkaros. I have a feeling I don''t want to know the details. Yet there''s a curiosity there, one that is likely more dangerous than I''d like to admit.


    "If you focus you can put away the contracts," she says.


    Put away likely doesn''t mean what it sounds like. It probably has something to do with magic, in the same way she could conjure chairs. Maybe they had always existed but were put away in some magical world that only existed for her.


    "Focus on the core of your mind," she adds.


    I look at the contracts. I think of a strange place existing in my mind and when they''re still there I close my eyes. I imagine it far into my mind, so deep that I have to peel back layer by layer. When I open my eyes again the contracts are gone and Blomst has created a door on the wall.


    "Well done."


    I don''t answer and make myself ready to leave this room covered with a heavy atmosphere.


    As usual the Eleven lays on the other side of the gate. Now when I''m no longer an apprentice I can go wherever I want, but I don''t have the courage to take that extra step, not alone. And I doubt Clover will keep his promise of taking me and Artemis to Arkaros. In the worst-case scenario, I could ask Rampion or Sun. Artemis would likely also bring me if I asked, but it was clear she was busy. The last time I saw her she said something about Cerberus needing her help and I hadn''t seen her a single time in the dining hall since then.


    I walk down the white stairs. I don''t want to go into the forest, through the path with the reflecting black stones, not see the white buildings that hide behind the forest. I stay at the last step of the stairs. I can hear the melody from the trees, it''s so low that I shouldn''t be hearing it, yet it still able to force itself through. I cannot shut it out.


    I hold out my hand and cup them. My thoughts drift to that place in my mind, it''s easier now that I''ve already found it, and when I open my eyes one of the black stone tablets lay in my hands. Joseph Davis ¨C United States of America, Colorado, Denver. I''ve never seen him before, yet I can see his face in front of me. A smell of the sea tickles my nose, and a pain in my lungs sneak upon me. It makes me cough a few times. I pick up the gate stone and it feels like it stings my fingers, but soon they feel just as numb as before.


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    I extend my open hand, and the white door unfolds itself as the stone falls from my palm. I smell the ocean once again. This time I don''t knock.


    I step into another corridor in a hospital. It''s broader than the one in Poland and the walls are blue and white. I can also read and understand what the signs are saying. But I don''t need to read to be able to know where I''m going.


    I catch the gate stone in my free hand once it has folded itself into a stone again. I barely need to think for both of the objects in my hand to disappear, I know where they are and how easy it''d be to get them to appear again.


    I ignore the nurses and their muffled speech that I''m not allowed to understand. I''m at the end of the corridor, in front of the door that has called on me, it''s thumping like a heart. I take a deep breath. How should I act? What shall I say that I am? The humans I had reaped had already died, and it had been Rampion that reaped Pawe?, but he had already visited him earlier. I haven''t the faintest idea how to do this and I wish Clover was here to explain what the hell I''m supposed to do, what game I have to play to make him trust me.


    The smell of the ocean is strong, even though we''re in the middle of the USA. It has to have something to do with Joseph.


    I take another deep breath and walk through the door. A wave of emotions hits straight into my face, it''s hard to breathe and I almost fall out of the room. I tense up and smell the ocean again, it hangs over us like heavy invisible clouds.


    I can feel his pain. In his chest, throat, and lungs. At the same there''s something peaceful and tranquil over the room, and I realize that he''s not scared of dying. He''s ready if the time is right. He doesn''t hate life. He has simply accepted destiny for what it is ¨C no matter when it will arrive. Had my chaotic feelings been just as strong when Clover was sent to reap me?


    I take another step towards the man. There''s a small tube under his nose. His hair is grey and thick, like the medium-length beard. He sniffles and focuses entirely on the TV. He hasn''t noticed me at all, if he can even see me.


    I take another step closer; I feel like a predator stalking its prey. He shines more brightly than Pawe?, almost as strongly as the nurses out in the corridor.


    He has noticed me now and sweeps the tired and grey eyes over my clothes.


    "You''re in the wrong room," he says with a raspy voice.


    He sounds like Pawe?, the dominant and most clear voice speaks in Swedish, and the one underneath speaks English. I cannot understand it, it''s muffled and the words sounds incomprehensible, just like the nurses in the corridor.


    "I don''t think so," I say and walk further into the room.


    He follows me with his gaze, irritation lays in his eyes. I can hardly blame him. I''d feel just as annoyed if some unknown person walked into my hospital room.


    I don''t know what else to say, what to do. What am I even doing here? It''s after all another month at least until I''m supposed to reap his soul. It''d be easier to come here after he has died.


    "I don''t have time to babysit," he says and points at the tube under his nose, "as you can see."


    I stand at the end of his bed trying to figure out what to even say to this man. I don''t need to think long until a nurse comes into the room. The blue shine that comes from her is blinding.


    She says something I cannot understand.


    "It doesn''t matter," he tells her, "but do you let anyone into my room?"


    The woman looks around and looks right through me. Joseph follows her gaze. She says something more and Joseph keeps staring at me, he looks much calmer than I thought he be.


    He turns to the nurse. "There was a girl here before."


    She speaks.


    "Yes, she left a few minutes ago," he lies, and the woman says something more. Joseph continues, "No, that''s fine."


    She leaves the room and Joseph waits for what feels like minutes before he asks, "who are you?"


    "I cannot say my name anymore," I say and try to sound calm and collected.


    Mysterious it is. That''s the game I''ll play. Even though what I said is the truth. I cannot say my name anymore and I definitely don''t want to tell him my name is Orchid.


    "Are you dead?"


    "In a way," I answer.


    "Ghost?"


    I laugh. "No, I''m no ghost."


    He coughs and takes a deep breath. I feel the pain in my chest and lungs.


    "What are you then?" he asks, each word sounds strained.


    I''m not sure what I should say, if I should be truthful or lie.


    "I can''t tell you yet." I sit down at the green chair next to the wall. "But I''m here to get to know you."


    He looks confused for a second, and then he starts laughing, it leads to another coughing fit. His rough hand grabs his shirt. I sit still in my chair and refuse to show that I''m suffering with him. It sounds like he''s about to tear up his throat and chest.


    "My last months with a ghost as a friend, I could have it worse," he says breathlessly, yet he''s able to conjure a smile.


    "But I''m no ghost," I remind him.


    "As long as you won''t tell me what you are, you''ll be a ghost in my eyes. No one else can see you, right?"


    I don''t answer; his eyes narrows.


    "Or the dying can see you."


    He knows exactly what I am now. He''d call me a reaper, but he''s close enough to the truth. He knows that I''m there to collect his soul. There''s no fear in him, just a curiosity.


    "To be honest, I''ve never believed in your type before."


    He points a finger at me while he stares me down, like he''s trying to figure me out.


    "My type?" I ask and cross my legs, my arms I put over the chair''s armrest.


    "Reapers." He takes a deep breath. "Ghosts I''ve always believed in. But you... No, that was too strange."


    "But you believe me now?" I ask like I was the only existing reaper.


    He coughs a couple of times. "Yes, you are after all sitting right in front of me."


    I remember when Emma said that she had seen something in the hospital room when my dad died, I had said that it wasn''t weird to do that when he was dying. If someone saw this man speak with nothing, would they also believe he was hallucinating?


    "I never believed in ghosts when I was alive," I admit even though I shouldn''t.


    I feel strangely comfortable talking to the old man, it makes me want to tell him the thoughts I''ve hidden. It feels like he wouldn''t judge me.


    "So you''ve been alive?"


    I answer with a nod, he opens his mouth to say something but a woman in casual clothes steps into the room. She shines brightly.


    Joseph''s tired, grey eyes lights up. She looks like a younger version of him, and it wouldn''t surprise me if she is his daughter.


    "Emma, I thought you said you couldn''t make it today."


    It stings when I hear that name. I can barely pronounce it anymore. I get up from the chair and stand in front of his bed again.


    The woman even has blonde, curly hair like Emma, but their faces are night and day. It''s impossible to understand what she''s saying. I decide to unfold the stone right in front of Joseph, he stops talking and stares with widened eyes.


    Emma says something, I catch a tone of worrying.


    "I cannot say my name, but I remember my sister''s. She has the same name as your daughter. If you''d like to call me anything, I prefer that name."


    His mouth is slightly open, Emma lays one of her shining hands on top of his shoulder.


    "Okay," he says as he watches me; he turns to Emma. "I''m okay."


    I turn back and open the door after knocking.

 Chapter 24

    I stand in the corridor of doors. I''m rarely here since the gate stone can take me to the exact place I''d like to visit, without having to go through the corridor of hundreds ¨C maybe thousands ¨C of doors.


    I want to open one of them, to see what hides on the other side and how it compares to the Eleven and the Oak. But I still cannot muster the courage to do it. Instead, I walk through the corridor trying to learn the names of the worlds. The first doors belong to First. Afterwards comes Blomst''s. I study the name the Oak a while longer, it''s above the beautiful wooden door surrounded by a frame of twisted branches. The next line leads to Couleur''s worlds, they''re named after different color in French. Like Vert and Noir.


    It''s easy to learn the rules for the doors'' names, they always have something to do with their guardians. Some of the worlds I don''t know which guardian they belong to, except the last line covered in black doors with stars and planets or moons. By the appearance itself it has to belong to Saturn. After that, it looks like the rest of the corridor has fallen into the darkness. On the opposite side, where First''s doors are lined up, the edge ends abruptly, but this side the platform stretches out while it gets narrower the further out it gets. It feels like I''ll fall into the darkness and never get up again, if I was foolish enough to try and walk the little piece that''s left of this side.


    I''ve been here for hours. Most soul wanderers I see takes the middle door ¨C the one leading to Arkaros. Occasionally Soul wanderers take their apprentices to their new worlds. I try to muster up courage to climb the few steps to the Arkaros'' gate. But I make no progress. Nor can I place where this fear of mine comes from.


    I extend my hand and call forth the next contract. Above it lays the gate stone, I pick it up. Allie Reid is written in elegant handwriting. It was her who had the lowest number, which meant she was the first one I''d reap. I have a few days to decide if I want to shapeshift or not.


    I can see her in front of me as well, the red curly hair and the square-shaped face with the intensive green eyes. There''s no smell this time. The contract disappears and I extend my other hand, the gate stone folds itself out.


    To no surprise, another hospital awaits on the other side. Rampion hadn''t exaggerated that most of the contracts would be in hospitals. I''ve never liked them; they remind me too much of the hospital room that my dad died in. I still remember how it felt, like I stepped into death. Was my soul already aware that I''d turn into a soul wanderer? It was likely that the soul had already been reaped and what Emma had seen was a soul wanderer ¨C or one of the fractured. For my dad''s sake I hope it was the former.


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    I follow the calling once the gate has turned into a stone. There''s no sound, just a feeling of someone needing me. When I arrive the door is thumping in the same way Joseph''s had done.


    The first thing I notice inside the room is the window. It''s dark outside and the rain is whipping against the glass, filling the room with the sounds that reminds me of autumn. I would like to open the window and see if my face can feel the raindrops. But I know it''s futile.


    A bed, a little TV mounted on the wall, and two chairs are everything that fits into the small room, if you don''t count all the hospital items. Allie isn''t moving, with a tube in her mouth she lies silently in her bed. A man is sitting next to her with his torso hanging over her lower body. One hand is carefully holding hers.


    I can feel it now. The unbearable hopelessness and the will to die. She crawls under my skin and spreads her miserable sorrow throughout my body.


    I sit down at the chair next to her. While she hasn''t reacted to my presence, I know she''s aware of me. She even knows who I am, and she''s thankful I''ve come.


    I lay my hand over hers and caress it carefully. "I''m not here to free you yet," I begin and speak as softly as I''m able to, "but when I come back, I''ll free you from this. Then you''ll be able to move on."


    I squeeze her hand and for just a moment it feels like she squeezes mine. The half-closed eyes look even more hollow now. It''s different from the intense, eager eyes I had seen before I came here. I let go of her hand and get up.


    "When I come next, you''ll receive your rest."


    I think I hear a thank you. It''s likely the thread connecting the harvester with the contract that makes it possible.


    I head to the corridor, this time before I conjure the gate stone. It had been a mistake to do it in front of Joseph. Even if it did seem like he wanted my existence a secret, not that anyone would believe him.


    The hospital staff pass through the unfolded door, making it move like waves on water until it gets the same solid shape.


    Can you reap a soul before it''s ready? The pain and hopelessness I felt was something I''d never want to see someone go through. Yet, in the end I don''t dare to defy the guardians nor destiny. Besides, a thought has made itself its way to my mind, and I''m not sure I like it.


    Rampion might have been right about shapeshifting. Whether I use it or not, my job is to reap souls. If I could make it easier and more comfortable for them then it was worth it. If I felt dirty afterwards, I could always continue reaping as myself. The longing of peace as well as the hopelessness have lodged itself far into my skin. I''d like to give her what I can.


    If I''ll shapeshift I need to visit Arkaros. Clover is avoiding me, and Artemis is still busy. Those who remain are Rampion and Sun. I have a hard time imagining them saying yes. But I have little choice in the matter.

 Chapter 25

    I try to ignore the sad song that the moon trees are singing, how the dark blue grass is glittering like it''s part of a dream. I haven''t been here since Sun spoke of the Raven and his "betrayal". I have tried to ignore the thoughts surrounding them, but it''s hard to shut it out in my bedroom with the eternal rain behind the glass. I still haven''t been able to open the window, and by now it''s likely I''ll never will.


    Sun and Rampion are both settled around the white table as usual. Rampion is leaning against the chair and Sun''s hands are clasped together, resting on the surface of the table.


    "You come here often, Orchid," she says when she notices me. "Compared to anyone else that is."


    The wrath I had seen the last time is no longer there.


    Rampion moves the gigantic head towards me. "What do you want? Have we not explained everything to you already?"


    Sun rolls her eyes. "Ignore him. You know what he''s like. What do you want help with?"


    She knows I''m here for a reason, I guess no one ¨C except them ¨C would come here by their own choices. It''s too close to the well.


    "Arkaros," I begin with uncertainty, "I''d need a guide that shows me around, mostly so I can get to the Hall of Memories and the library Rampion mentioned."


    "Ask Clover," Rampion says and leans back against the chair, so it stands on the two back legs. "We have nothing to do with this."


    He''s wrong. Blomst literally asked him to show me how this worked, which included Arkaros and its buildings that was important to shapeshifting.


    "I don''t want to ask Clover," I say and hope they won''t ask further.


    "Rampion only goes there when he has to."


    She sounds bored, and by her lazy expression I''d guess she is.


    "And I don''t want to bring anyone," he adds.


    Sun continues, "I can bring you with me, but I''m quite busy. The best would be if you simply asked Clover or someone else."


    "I can''t do that."


    Sun sighs. "Then you''ll just have to wait until I''m available."


    I''m not sure I can do that either. Allie doesn''t have much longer until I have to reap her soul. If Sun isn''t available then I''d either have to go myself or ask Blomst for help, something I cannot even imagine.


    "When are you available?" I ask, and not as patiently as I''d like to sound.


    Sun gives me another sly smile. "Well, aren''t you impatient? You''d think with that little time you''d ask Clover. You know him better, no?"


    I cannot answer, I have no desire telling her that he avoids me because I cannot stop forcing myself into other people''s affairs.


    Sun sighs. "I have an errand in Arkaros in three days. I can bring you then. Not earlier."


    Rampion has his large paw leaning against the bear head as he continues to rock his chair. The coal-black, artificial eyes tell me nothing of what he''s thinking ¨C if he even cares for our conversation.


    "Would you like to accompany us, Rampion?" Sun asks.


    Rampion stops rocking and lets the chair''s front legs down with a thud. "What do you think?"


    "That''s a no from our bear friend," she says, and he groans. "Seems like it will be only us. Which reminds me, this time I have a question for you."


    "Do you now?" I ask and keep my eyes focused on her.


    "Mm-hm, I''ve noticed that Clover hasn''t been around you ¨C I haven''t even seen him in a few days actually. He tends to be hard to miss, with all his brooding and unfortunate dirty appearance. Even if you have completed your apprenticeship, you usually don''t end your relations completely, even if one of the said soul wanderers happens to be Clover. Has something happened?"


    She smiles. It almost looks innocent for a while. But she soon reminds me of a grinning fox. She knows exactly what to do, where to probe and prod to reach the hidden, uncomfortable truth. In a way she reminds me of Clover that seems to see through me no matter what I do, yet she''s slyer and more ruthless.


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    "Nothing has happened."


    I take a step forward and try to fake a security that was more real when I was alive ¨C she can see through that one too.


    Rampion scoffs and Sun smiles once again when my lie was so easy to see through that even Rampion noticed it.


    "Let me guess, you said something he got annoyed at," Rampion says.


    "Something about the well?" Sun adds.


    I bite down hard.


    Sun smile grows bigger. "That''s what I thought. You came too close to what he''s hiding, so he threw you aside and pretends you don''t exist. Am I right?"


    Clover hadn''t even tried to solve it. He had asked me to leave the Oak and since then he had avoided me. The only time he showed up at the Eleven was when he needed to bring Eclipse on one of his contracts, but I had never been in time to meet him. At this point I had given up, to chase after him was a waste of time. He didn''t want to fix anything, so finding him wouldn''t really help. He would just shut me out again.


    "Okay, you''re right," I admit. "I said something that made him avoid me. That''s why I''m asking you for help and not Clover. Will you help me or not?"


    "I''ve already said you can accompany me in three days, have I not? We can talk more about it in the morning. You''re welcome to partake in breakfast with us, obviously you''ll have to settle for food I ate when I was alive. Unless you bring your own, of course."


    "You''re joking." A dissatisfied grunt comes from the large bear head. "She''ll eat with us?"


    "Does it look like I''m joking?"


    He crosses his arms.


    "I''ll have an extra chair for you tomorrow, and you''re welcome to eat with us," she says with half a smile.


    "Alright then, I''ll be here tomorrow morning."


    I expect Rampion to refuse to eat with me, that he''ll complain endlessly to sun, but instead he simply starts rocking his chair again.


    ***


    When I arrive early morning Sun has already put out another chair, it''s the same white garden chair made of iron. On the table sits three wooden plates and three filled mugs with ale. On the plates there''s a half loaf of bread, sliced into multiple pieces. Underneath lays a white cloth and it the middle stands a wooden jug.


    Rampion sits on his chair, still in the ridiculous bear costume. Sun is placing an apple on each plate, next to the sliced loaf of bread. She points at the new chair with her whole hand.


    Sun has tied golden, but also red and gleaming black threads around the moon trees that circulates us.


    "What is this?" I ask and sit down, staring at the strange decorations.


    "It''s not often we get a guest," she says and sounds more amused by my question than she should be.


    "It looks goddamn awful," Rampion says.


    One of his large paws are placed between his plate and my mug. A bit too close than I''m comfortable with, a slight movement and he might very well spill everything out.


    "Rampion has no taste... If that wasn''t obvious."


    She takes a long, haughty glance at his costume. Rampion makes a low, disgusted sound.


    Sun places a hand against her chin. "I hadn''t expected you to come."


    "I said I would, didn''t I?"


    I pick up a slice of the bread.


    "Sometimes humans say they''ll do things, but actually won''t." she shrugs slightly. "I''ve learned that I often get disappointed in humans and their promises."


    She speaks like she wasn''t a human herself. Had the last six hundred years after her death made her no longer see herself as a human?


    "She didn''t give you a promise though," Rampion mutters and pulls the large paw away from the table, it makes my mug shake; I quickly grab it.


    "If you say you''ll do something, then you do it. Or you''ll find a substitution to whatever you said you''d do."


    "Still not a promise," he continues and pulls up the bear head, he keeps it steady against his forehead.


    I let go of the mug and take a bite of the bread; I feel the taste right away.


    "Why don''t you remove the costume when you eat?" I ask once the mood between them gets worse.


    Sun fixates her eyes on me. Rampion stops moving in a pointless attempt at getting a good grip on the slice. He stares intensely at the bread, and with a heavy sigh the hand inside of the paw makes a fist.


    "Don''t you think I''ve tried that?" he snarls and watches me with dark eyes.


    "There are no solid rules when it comes to the costume returning to place again, it could be one to thirty minutes. The simplest solution we''ve found is to push the bear head against his forehead, then it''s still touching his skin and won''t suddenly return. I''ve told him I can hold the bear head, so he at least has two hands to work with. But he has refused it each time I''ve brought it up."


    Sun takes a steady grip around the mug and lifts it up, she looks at Rampion that still has not begun his next try.


    "So then, he''ll get to struggle until he succeeds," she says and takes a sip from the ale.


    Rampion pushes the bear head harder against his forehead, the free hand moves in another try to get a grip on the slice of bread. Sun places the mug on the table.


    "So Arkaros, is it only the Hall of Memories and the library you wish to see?"


    "Yes, that''s the plan."


    Sun picks up the bread slice again. "I have multiple errands in Arkaros. I was thinking we should head to the market first. I shall be meeting someone in the library, so we can head there afterwards."


    "And the Hall of Memories?" I ask.


    Rampion has finally gotten a steady grip on the slice of bread; he quickly devours it.


    "Afterwards. I have quite a lot of things to do, and you might as well tag along until it''s finished."


    I take another bite of the bread. I chew it slowly, taking in the taste. It''s not as strong as the dango-looking food Sun tricked me to eat a week ago, when I could feel everything. This taste a hundred times better and isn''t causing me to cough to the point of choking.


    "Orchid asks you to find two places in Arkaros, and you decide to bring her with you on your errands through the city?" Rampion asks with a laugh; he has two visible laughing lines close together when he smiles.


    "Shall you show her around then?" She asks.


    He grunts. "No, definitely not."


    "I thought as much." She turns to me again. "If you have any issues with it, then you''ll have to wait until I''m free or find someone else to do it."


    I shake my head. "No, it''s fine."


    I take a sip from the ale; it covers each millimeter of my tongue. The taste settles like a thin layer of snow on my tongue, until it slowly melts away and I feel no trace of its existence. It disappears quicker than what it did when I was alive, yet it feels intoxicating ¨C and I don''t believe it has anything to do with the ale.

 Chapter 26

    The gate to Arkaros is made of stone, broader and thicker than the others. Hundreds of symbols are ingrained into its surface. The last time I was here I tried to figure out what they meant. I don''t think I''ve ever seen them, not in the living world nor here.


    Sun is already standing in front of the small stairs.


    "There you are, I was wondering if you decided not to come."


    "I''m here now."


    "That you are," she says and climbs the five stairs that leads to the ancient gate. "If you plan on visiting Arkaros this is the only way. All the others are closed."


    She gently lays a hand against the gate and runs it down the symbols.


    "I cannot use my own gate stone?" I ask.


    The symbols start glowing in a jade color.


    "No." she removes her hand from the gate. "Like I said, all ways ¨C from and to Arkaros ¨C are closed off. They closed them about a hundred years ago, to make sure that uninvited guests stay out of the sky''s city."


    Sun opens the door and we''re met with a beautiful, shining light. It moves around the same way the darkness does in the other gates, it makes me forget everything I was going to say. Sun must have seen it hundreds of times. She simply turns to me with a smile and says something about my mouth being open, before I can gather my thoughts and say something that wouldn''t be flabbergasted mumbling, she steps through the light. I remain in the corridor for a few seconds of awe. I close my mouth and follow.


    Sun stands on the other side and behind her is a long white bridge that stretches out over the sky towards the gigantic gates, behind lies a city surrounded by tall walls. From where I stand, I can see a few towers peek up from inside of the city. The other thing I notice is that the Arkaros'' walls are surrounded by another well. It doesn''t look like the one in the Eleven or the Oak, but it has more similarities with the Eleven. Yet, there''s no tower and the well itself is embracing the walls, it never reaches the bridge but end a few meters away from it on each side, like an open circle. The liquid isn''t running down from above the sky nor is it coming from inside of the walls, it spills over the edge of the circle and falls down below the floating city ¨C and continues downwards, beyond the clouds. Both the Oak and the Eleven has doors, but here I cannot see a single one.


    We''re standing on a platform with eight doorways, one for each guardian and the eight one is likely for the creatures. They have no doors and are all showing the same dark whirling I''ve gotten used to. The one I came out of has a floating symbol of a chamomile, and it''s likely Sun stepped out of the door with the crescent moon that ¨C just like the chamomile ¨C is floating a few centimeters above the doorway.


    If I had seen a painting or a photograph of this place, I''d say that this is how I''d imagine heaven. But we''re not in heaven. We''re in the Realm of the Dead. Most of the religions I''m aware of has always depicted it in darkness and underground. Here we''re high up above the clouds with sunlight, not at all the same gloomy and dark place that it usually is depicted as.


    I have to convince myself that this place isn''t terrifyingly beautiful, that it''s not the core of the Realm of the Dead, or the capital as Cerberus had explained it.


    Sun is standing at the end of the stairs waiting.


    "You look impressed."


    I had likely not gone into the city myself if Sun hadn''t brought me with her, I would have gone back and pretended shapeshifting wasn''t an option. It feels like the city will devour me whole if I even put a toe behind the gigantic gates.


    "After a while Arkaros will feel like any other place." She observes the city on the other side of the long bridge. "You''ll notice there''s not a big difference compared to the other worlds in the Realm of the Dead."


    It takes a few moments before I can force my legs to move and follow her towards the bridge.


    "Has Rampion gotten used to it?"


    He''s the youngest I know that has been in Arkaros, I want to know how long it would take to become used to this.


    "Rampion is detached to a certain point."


    "What do you mean?"


    I take the first step onto the large bridge.


    A soul wanderer passes me ¨C one that I''ve never seen before ¨C and nods as a greeting when I meet her eyes, I do the same gesture.


    "He''s tired of these worlds, tired to be stuck in that atrocious costume," she says.


    "Yet you make fun of him as quickly as you can," I mention, it doesn''t come out as loud and confident as I''d prefer.


    "Have you met him? He can deal with it. And the few times I go too far I apologize."


    "Okay, so what do you mean exactly? You said he was detached and tired. What does that have to do with my question?"


    Sun sighs. "He''s so exhausted that he doesn''t care about anything, except feeling something. It doesn''t matter what, hence the reason why he eats those disgusting balls. A city like this he couldn''t care less for."


    I''ve felt that feeling before ¨C it forces itself in and the desire and longing becomes unfathomable and unhealthy. It doesn''t matter what you''ll feel as long as you feel something ¨C whether that is pain or pleasure. I wanted to submerge myself in the well when I felt its sorrow. Here there wasn''t the same feeling from the blue, gleaming liquid. Nor was it close enough to touch even if I''d lean out from the bridge.


    "How did you meet him?" I ask.


    The city looks much bigger now, an unpleasant feeling settles in the depth of my stomach.


    "I saw him fight with one of the beings in the Eleven."


    She chuckles at the thought.


    "Did you stop them?"


    She scoffs. "What do you think? It was one of the most interesting things I had seen in weeks. One of those little hairless beings that barely reach up my waist called him something crude. He didn''t care of the world, or the rules of these places that doesn''t make sense half of the time. Yet that little creature was able to rile him up. The few times I had seen him he was like a walking corpse stuck in that childish costume. It was like he came to life again, simply to refuse that little imp to speak condescendingly to him."


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    "I have a hard time to see how that turns into friendship."


    "Well, I didn''t want a friend at first. I was bored. I hadn''t had someone I could call a friend for fifty years. All seemed bleak and boring in comparison. But Rampion didn''t. I hadn''t expected a friend, nor someone that I cared for. Not since the Raven."


    I observe the gigantic gates that are thicker than a meter. The buildings inside are just as white as the walls, most of them are oval with beautiful stained-glass windows. Large parts of the streets are made of glass. Underneath floats turquoise water. It''s different from the thick blue liquid of the well.


    Gargoyles with spears in one of their hands stand on each side of the gigantic gates on a pedestal, the tip of the spears is shining in a black, hollow color.


    "Hold on," Sun says and grabs me roughly by the arm.


    Before I can ask what she means the gargoyles are moving. They approach us with slow, loud, and dragging steps. They had looked small next to the gates that has to be over thirty meters tall, but when they stand in front of us, they look closer to three meters. Their eyes are glowing with the same orange color as Varg''s. They look at us in what feels like an eternity, before they go back, just as slow, to their places on their pedestals. The spears in their hands point in towards the city instead of upwards.


    "Come," she says and her grip around my arm is as tight as before, while she pulls me towards the city.


    One of the Gargoyle''s eyes have stopped shining and it look as still as it had been before ¨C like it hadn''t at all left its pedestal just a moment ago.


    "What the hell was that?" I ask once we reach the parts of the streets that are made of glass.


    "Gargoyles," Sun answers and lets go of my arm. "They''re Arkaros'' guards, they were brought in when all doors but the ones we saw were closed. There''s no need to worry about them, they did let us in after all."


    "And if they hadn''t?"


    Sun looks at me with the familiar smile. "We would likely have faded away. Or something along those lines."


    Had I not felt that feeling when the shattered soul pushed its nails into my throat, I''d question it. Now I know there''s truth behind her words, no matter how amused she looks by my question. We''re not immortal and our soul is just as fragile as our bodies when we were alive ¨C if not more.


    "There''s no need to worry. They''re never wrong, and they''re here to protect us as well as Arkaros."


    Protect us from what?


    "Where are we going?" I ask and try not to think of the black shining tip of the spear.


    Sun points to a narrow street that leads into a labyrinth of dark alleys made of white buildings. They''re not oval like the one we saw by the gate, these are mostly rectangular, with some white peculiar, complex shapes. The streets are not made of glass and are hiding the turquoise water underneath the city.


    "The market. I have an errand there."


    She leads us into the alleys, the streets are so narrow that we have to walk in a line. It lays entirely in shadows and when I look up we''re under two complex buildings built into each other. After a while we''ve turned and changed directions so many times I have no clue how to get back.


    When we finally reach the end of the alley, we walk straight into a market that makes the one in Eleven pale in comparison. Market stalls of different colors stand on each side of us, its street is crowded with thousands of soul wanderers and creatures. Red lanterns show us the way to a pair of red stairs, leading up to another floor of market stalls. In the air floats yellow and red lanterns that sway back and forth. A clear night sky extends above us, even though it had been daylight outside just a few minutes ago. This whole place is magical and beautiful. It doesn''t feel strange, not like a dream nor like it shouldn''t exist. I''m not sure why this place is different. While the Eleven have a flashier feeling to it, there isn''t that much difference between them.


    Sun steps into another crowd, I''m careful not to lose her behind all soul wanderers and creatures. I cannot imagine what more than half of the goods for sale are, they''re just as strange, if not stranger than everything else here. Sculptures of peculiar creatures or structures, stones, fruits, golden or silver objects. Some of them is covered in transparent veils and fabric.


    Sun is walking with purpose, not paying attention to anything but whatever she''s supposed to do here. Once we''ve walked in silence for ten minutes, we reach another pair of stairs leading us to the third floor. The same lanterns dance in the air on the platform. I''m eye-level with them and below lays the first floor and the second floor''s lanterns. Sun grabs my arm pulling me to another market stall on the other side.


    A creature with snow white skin stands before us. Its small eyes have the same eye color as Emma. It feels unnatural to see human eyes on a creature that is far from humane. It moves its batlike nose nervously when it looks up at Sun. She places three leaves on the market stall''s table.


    "Leaves from the forest with many faces," Sun says.


    The creature eagerly studies them. With a grunt it quickly gathers the leaves with its overly long fingers. It organizes them neatly, the biggest one in the middle with the two smaller on each of its side.


    "What was the answers to the question?" it asks.


    "They said he was sleeping."


    The creature blinks with its narrow eyes. "So not faded."


    "Not faded, but a deep sleep. The faces said it was only a question of when he''ll awake, not if."


    The creature smiles and bows.


    "This was no favor, being," Sun says.


    It bends down and searches through the market stall while Sun waits with her arms crossed. The creature lays its claw-looking hands on the table and peeks up with its pale face. The mouth is open in a large smile. I can see a line of small sharp teeth that reminds me of Sixxteen.


    "Here, here," the creature snorts, it straightens its crooked back.


    It moves its hand away and two trinkets, that looks like a spider''s web of iron with a gem in the middle, lay on the market stall''s table.


    "Perfect," says Sun and picks up the two trinkets, they disappear from her hand the moment they lay in her palm.


    She quickly turns around and heads towards the crowd again. It carefully picks up the three leaves. I give the creature a nod and it answers by blinking with its all too humanoid eyes. I follow Sun back into the crowd of soul wanderers and creatures.


    "What was that?" I ask.


    "A deal of a sort."


    She extends her arm slightly, one of the trinkets shows up in her palm. The floating lanterns next to us mirrors itself in the red jewel placed in the middle of the web.


    "What kind of trinket is that?"


    I stare at it before it disappears from her palm again.


    "It''s for communication. If you had the other trinket, we''d be able to talk even if we''re in different worlds."


    A magical phone with other words.


    "And what use does that do, when you can easily just travel through a door?"


    "Aren''t you curious, Orchid," she says with a smile. "I guess there''s no harm in telling you. You cannot use the gate stone in every world. I thought it could be handy if you need to talk to someone who''s not in the same place as you. You''d be surprised how often the guardians send us out to do different kind of... errands in different worlds."


    For a moment I almost ask what these errands would look like, but I have a feeling it''s best to leave it alone.


    "When you spoke to the creature about the deal you mentioned something about a forest with faces?"


    "The forest with many faces," she corrects me.


    "And what is that?"


    "A forest with speaking trees. Many beings believe they are the truth and destiny''s prophet or something. Quite laughable, considering they''ve been there for barely two years. They prattle on about all kind of things when you visit the forest. It was worth going there if I could get my hands on the iron webs."


    I can hear music play further away. It doesn''t sound as sad as the moon trees'' melody, but it has a similar sound that fills the entire air with vibration.


    "She wanted me to ask about one of the kings."


    "The Realm of the Dead have kings?"


    She gives me a haughty glance. "No. It''s no more than a legend. It is said that there were three kings that was no being nor guardian, nor where they soul wanderers. The legend claims they all died."


    "The trees said he slept," I say.


    "Yes, but the trees have existed for two years and speaks rubbish. The leaves have no meaning, it''s just a bunch of rumors they believe in without a single thought."


    Sun leads me down stairs to another alley that seems just as confusing as the first. We leave the market behind and go through narrow streets, leading us further and further into the city. Once we reach the outside of the alley labyrinths, I notice that it''s light again, and the sun is high upon the sky. On the other side of the broad streets lies a gigantic building with the appearance of a gothic church. Surrounding it is a white fence with sculptures of strange creatures with large ears. They remind me of bats without wings. On the other side of the fence there''s a garden of large flowers and trees whose leaves are as white as its trunk. On the building''s walls climb faded green vines up against the stained-glass windows.


    "A church?" I ask when Sun leads us to the broader, white streets.


    "That is no church. It''s the library. Shall we?"

 Chapter 27 - (part 1)

    The inside of the library is darker than I had expected. The upper parts of the dark grey walls are covered by stained-glass windows. They depict different landscapes, some of them look real while others are too strange to understand. Two balconies are located on both sides of the large building; they''re held up by golden pillars whose surface is covered in black markings that look like veins.


    Under the balconies lay piles of books, so old it feels like the pages will crumble in my hands if I touch them. In the middle of the library, two long tables stretch across the floor with elegant chairs standing neatly on its sides. Floating upside-down candles lights up soul wanderers that are reading the old books.


    Most people inside the library are humans, except a few beings dressed in black veils. They are slowly floating forward, and the grey feet are almost touching the floor.


    "Librarians," Sun says when she notices me staring at them. "Or that''s what we''ve decided to call them. Fitting, I suppose."


    There are three of them in the entire library. Two float back and forth at the sides of the long tables. The third is occupying one of the balconies. It flashes a few times ¨C like it was a hologram ¨C before it fades away and appears on the balcony on the other side of the room.


    "They''re not regular beings, are they?"


    One of the librarians slowly turns its head covered in layers of thin veils, so many that I cannot see its face. It looks down at one of the soul wanderers ¨C at the book they''re reading.


    "They have a single purpose." Sun walks towards one of the balconies where the librarian isn''t located. "They''re here to watch us."


    "Why would they need to watch us?" I ask as we walk up the stairs.


    Bookcases of dark wood, carved with beautiful markings stand in a line; they''re filled with books that seem just as old as the ones in piles below us.


    "To make sure that we''re not seeking information we''re not allowed to search for. Which means information about our own life. Whether that is a family member or a friend, or another person who has a connection to a soul wanderer. The only time it''s allowed, is if it''s included in your contract."


    Sun stops at one of the bookcases. "Take one."


    I cannot think of a single book that feels like the right one. They all look the same.


    "This time it doesn''t matter which one you choose."


    At the top of the bookcase there''s dates. 1800-2100, I''m not sure if it''s the date of someone''s death or their birth. It''s hard to imagine that humans who haven''t even been born yet are written in these books.


    I pull out one. It''s heavy and when I try to open it, it''s like the pages are glued together.


    "You need to know what you''re looking for before you open it," Sun says and when I try to open it again, she lays a hand on its front. "Open it at the tables. I have someone to meet and things to do. I''ll return to you later."


    Sun heads towards the other end of the long balcony. Both mine, Clover''s and my sister''s dates are written in this book. I hold the book tightly in my embrace as I head towards the stairs. A black figure appears in the corner of my eye, it flashes a few times before it slowly molds into a being. I bite my tongue to stop the scream building up in my throat. It has turned its face covered in layers of veils. I can see it when it''s this close, such a deep darkness that it feels like I''m staring down an endless dark well.


    It floats down the balcony ¨C away from me and the stairs. I remain at my place. It takes a few seconds before I''m physically able to move. I try not to think of the darkness the creature wore as a face. It feels like my legs will buckle when I go down the stairs. I approach the tables where two other librarians await; they slowly float back and forth in line next to the long tables.


    I sit down at the first chair, the one that''s closest to the gate. The closer I am the exit the safer I''ll feel. I take a deep breath and focus entirely on the book and Allie Reid ¨C how she looked like in the hospital bed, the eyes that had once been eager and intensive looked hollow.


    I don''t have to open the book; it opens by itself and turn its pages until it stops in the middle. At first the page is completely empty before it slowly starts fading in. The picture of her is livelier than a photograph. Yet it''s just as still. In every way it seems like a photograph, yet it feels like I''m staring right at her.


    I focus on the text. There''s a name, cause of death, death date and who''s supposed to perform the reaping. I read my name ¨C Orchid. I cannot remember my real one. It''s only for a few seconds and when I remember it again it feels like it''s not mine anymore. I associate myself with Orchid and the name Jonna feels foreign, yet I''m still thankful I can remember it.


    I look up from the book, over the table, the soul wanderers and the librarians. I put the thoughts about my name and the worry about the unpleasant creatures to the side.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Once again, I focus on the book, specifically the other page. On it there are names of people with a connection to Allie. I read their ages, connection and in parentheses if they''re alive, reaped or if their soul has been lost. There''s one name that catches my attention. Allie''s mother, Laura, a woman who died when she was forty-two. Once I''ve made my decision the pages turn.


    It stops at Allie''s mom. She has the same red hair and green intense eyes like her daughter. I study each detail. How her hair lays on her shoulders, how broad her nose is and how her skin is covered in freckles. I close my eyes and repeat her name in my mind as I envision the photograph in front of me. I make her turn, smile, and talk. Something is created in the depths of my mind. I have it now. The world with her belonging. I open my eyes and the woman in the photograph has the same smile I envisioned.


    The librarian on the other side watches me with its dark face, until it floats down the table. The other librarian are a few meters away. It reaches my chair, observes me for a few seconds until it turns slowly, giving the appearance that the veils are moving like they''re under water.


    I can breathe out when the creature is a few meters away from me. There''s a worry I''ve carried with me since I died, one that is bursting against the surface now. I''ve been good at keeping it down, trying to focus on remembering me before I died. But it''s hardly possible to keep it inside anymore.


    If she''s alive it should say so in the book. Then I can move on. I know it''s a hollow promise I''m trying to convince myself of. Even if she would be alright now, it doesn''t mean she wouldn''t try later. No matter the answer I will never stop worrying, and if she''s dead it will break me.


    Slowly the picture and the letters start to fade into the page until it''s empty. The book turns its pages again and I know that it''s too late to change my mind.


    Slowly ¨C painfully slowly ¨C the ink covers the pages. The photograph is the first thing I see. The hollow eyes and the blonde curly hair. It feels more real than the photograph in my room. She looks shocked, even if it hasn''t truly changed.


    A pale hand slams down onto the pages. The only thing I can see is the eyes that peek through the fingers, and parts of the open, bloodless wound on his arm.


    "What are you doing?" he asks.


    I glance quickly up at Nine and then back to the pages where he''s hiding her. I take a steady grip around his hand; I pull and jerk, trying to remove it from the page. I have to see if she''s alive. But he refuses to move it.


    A cold feeling creeps forward. It feels like I''ve been submerged in ice cold water. I stop pulling Nine''s hand and quickly lay my own over the pages to protect the rest of it being seen.


    Nine leans closer and puts a steady hand on my back. He whispers with a strict, determined voice, "Listen carefully."


    I nod and the cold darkness forces itself deeper.


    "Close your eyes." I do as he says and tightly shut my eyes. "Don''t think of her. Make your entire mind barren, think of nothing."


    I think of how it felt when Blomst gave me my name, when everything disappeared and there was nothing left of me ¨C at least not of the person that I had been when I was alive. I think of the emptiness I felt, and when I finally find it, I settle myself there.


    I don''t think. I''m not sure how long I am there or how long Nine is keeping his hand on my back. When I feel the cold darkness, I open my eyes.


    The librarian has taken shape right behind me, just like it had done on the balcony. I can feel the darkness and coldness its very existence conjures. It''s like ice growing on my back. I watch it from the corner of my eye; it reaches out its grey, malnourished hand. I try to not move when the cold from its arm touches the left side of my body. Slowly it wraps its long fingers around my wrist and gently lifts it. The page is empty.


    Nine moves away his hand from the book and lets the one on my back lay there until the librarian lets go of me and floats down the tables.


    Sun is approaching us from the other side of the room, she walks quickly, and her normally blank face is grimaced. The other soul wanderers seem bothered by the sudden coldness that covered the entire library, they exchange worried and confused glances.


    Nine close the book quickly. He looks more expressive than I remember him being.


    "If you cannot control your emotions, this is the worst place to be in."


    I don''t get the time to answer him before Sun grabs the upper part of my arm and force me up from the chair.


    "Do tell me you got the answer before you almost got us all in trouble," she snarls while pulling me towards the exit.


    "All of us? What would have happened?"


    "Answer me, did you get what you needed?"


    Sun stops at the gate and lets go of my arm.


    "I think I created a world," I say and turn back towards the library, the librarians are slowly floating back and forth like nothing had happened. "What would have happened?"


    "You mean, what would have happened if I didn''t send Nine to look out for you?"


    She''s still angry... and scared.


    It takes some time for me to gather my thoughts. "Yes."


    "You''d likely be faded, or nearly, at the very least. And the others would have been hurt," Nine answers.


    "What is faded?"


    "A soul''s death."


    A large lump has made my throat its home, and if I force out any words my voice will break.


    Sun takes a steady grip around her hand to make them stop shaking. There''s a fear in her eyes as she looks out at the library and the librarians ¨C one that I''ve never seen before. It terrifies me what my own selfish and foolish choices could have made us experience.


    "Thank you", Sun tells Nine.


    She takes a deep breath and glares at me, still holding her hand in an iron grip.


    "I don''t know what you''re thinking ¨C if you even think." She shakes her head. "I told you it was forbidden and you do exactly what I warned you about. How much of a fool are you?"


    She''s right ¨C even if she''s pretty much insulting me. I had let my emotions taken over again, let the guilt and fear do something that would put us all in danger.


    "You were lucky I sent Nine. Yet I hadn''t expected you to be foolish enough to go against the library''s rules. Never do that again," she says, it sounds like her voice will break any second.


    Nine''s facial expression is back to the same hollow one I''ve gotten used to; the expressive one I had seen earlier is gone.


    Sun grabs my arm again and pushes the gate open with the side of her body. She pulls me out on the white streets, and I throw a hasty glance at Nine that is following us.


    "I''m sorry," I force out.


    I know it''s not enough; a fragile apology won''t make a difference.


    "Just... don''t let it happen again," Sun says and lets go of my arm.

 Chapter 27 - (part 2)

    Sun leads us deeper into the city. Most buildings in these parts are taller than the others, they tower over us like giants. The stained-glass windows are depicted with what''s likely legends and myths. In multiple of them there are humanoid shapes ¨C they''re dressed in capes and veils covering their faces. Most are portraying the seven guardians.


    One of the stained-glass windows catch my attention the most. A sleeping human on an altar. His long white hair is tied around his face and the naked body. It''s so eye-catching that I stop in the middle of the street. A slight nudge on my shoulder from Nine makes me move again. The image of the pale, naked man interwoven in his own hair refuses to leave my thoughts.


    "Some changes were needed." Sun doesn''t sound as anxious anymore, her hands are clasped together resting on her stomach. "I''ll have to show you the Hall of Memories later."


    "Aren''t we on our way there now?"


    Sun leads us into a narrower street. "No, we''re heading towards the Guardians'' Citadel."


    I had wondered why Nine was following us, I should have realized I was the one not fitting in.


    "And what will we do there?"


    "You will not do anything," she says. "After your little mishap in the library you shall stand quietly and not even lift a finger. Have I made myself clear?"


    "Crystal clear."


    We continue through a broader street that leads us to a white fortress with rounded walls. It is surrounded by the turquoise water, and a staircase made of glass ascends to the large gate of white stone. Two ocean blue jewels sit on each side of the entrance, once we climb the stairs they light up by our presence. It only takes a few seconds until the gate opens up. I had imagined Gargoyles on the other side like at the entrance of the city, but in front of us is Blomst.


    She has an impatient expression, with slight annoyance hiding behind her eyes. Considering what she''s wearing I doubt she had plans to be here at this moment. The brown hair that''s usually in two buns now lays over her shoulder, it''s also adorned with flowers. She''s dressed in a beautiful purple dress that has a slit on one side of her leg. Once she''s done staring me down, she moves her gaze along to Nine behind us.


    "I see you brought an extra one," she says.


    "Orchid has an errand in Arkaros, and I was to show her around. Had I known you''d call for me I''d bring her another day. But Orchid won''t move a finger while we speak, will you?" Sun says.


    "I won''t move a millimeter."


    Blomst sighs and makes a hand gesture. "Follow me."


    The large gate closes behind us as we follow her inside. The hall is gigantic, and the floor is made of glass, it''s divided into squares that separates each box with a thin layer of white stone. Underneath the turquoise water is visible, it''s mostly still with its occasional calm wave. The walls are white and large pillars stand on each side of the room and in the middle is another staircase. It leads to the second floor that is made of the same white material as the walls.


    Blomst leads us up the stairs, the purple dress drags against the floor and Sun, who''s first in line, keeps her distance to not accidentally step on it.


    The fortress feels gigantic and it''s hard to know how far we''ve gone. Blomst leads us up multiple stairs to what is the sixth or seventh floor. The walls rarely have any windows and most of them is painted in the same depictions from the stained-glasses I had seen in Arkaros'' streets.


    Most are of the seven guardians, and the nude human is depicted in some of the murals. His hair is twisted around his body, always hiding his eyes. In some of them the man is standing up reaching out a pale hand. In the others he''s sitting down. In each depiction I see, the hair seems more and more like chains. They''re always twisted around his wrists and thighs. It looks uncomfortable, like he cannot move exactly the way he''d like.


    Nine''s gaze sometimes gets caught in the depictions of the strange man, and each time he tenses his jaw, like he also feels the sorrow behind the artworks.


    I don''t ask about the man. None of us do. The narrow hallways that Blomst leads us through is filled with an uncomfortable silence. At times it feels like the murals are watching us.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Once we exit the narrow hallways, she leads us out to yet another gigantic hall. The floor is golden yellow and gives of a shine of the same color. From the walls hangs golden-colored curtains, covering each wall, except the floor above us. In the distance another pair of glass stairs leads to the second floor.


    In the middle of the room stands a familiar man that makes my stomach turn. I''ve seen him once and from the short conversation we had, I could tell he was anything but pleasant.


    The blue hair is tied in a low ponytail that hangs down his back. He''s dressed in a silver, patterned coat that reaches his calves. When he turns around to face us, I notice that it''s open, revealing the light blue shirt of silk that''s tucked into the black pants.


    He approaches us with confidence ¨C with one hand in the silver-colored coat''s pockets ¨C that oozes of arrogance. Had I still been alive I would have thought he looked ridiculous, how he carried that arrogance like it was something to be put on display. Now that I know the power the guardians have and that they could crush me like I''m made of fragile glass, I don''t dare to keep that thought too long.


    My body becomes stiff when he stops in front of us. Neither Sun nor Nine says a word.


    "One too many, I see," First says and smiles; he turns towards me, "and I remember you. From the hall of souls, no? You had just finished your apprenticeship."


    I nod.


    He turns towards Blomst. "Dear Blomst, I would think you have more wit than to bring a soul wanderer who just completed their apprenticeship here. I am disappointed."


    Nine takes a step forward and bows slightly. "I was the one who brought her."


    It was Sun that had brought me, she could have left me outside and I don''t think Nine would have protested. It was more about what I had done in the library. Sun didn''t dare to leave me alone, in case I would get another stupid idea and retry what I had failed to do. If I''m stuck here ¨C deep in the Citadel ¨C I won''t be able to leave. What confuses me is why Nine would lie, whether he protects me, Sun or Blomst. He hadn''t spoken a single word since we came to the fortress, but once First makes an appearance he doesn''t just talk but even lies in front of his own guardian.


    First sighs and shakes his head, Sun glances at Nine.


    "Orchid won''t attend the meeting," Sun adds, "it''s her first day in Arkaros and I didn''t want her to get lost in the city."


    "So, you take her to the Citadel?"


    He sounds too amused. It makes my skin crawl.


    "Orchid will be staying in the gardens while we speak. Do you honestly think I haven''t thought this through already? You know me better than that," Blomst says.


    "Much better. You others can go to the meeting room, and I''ll show our guest to the gardens."


    "I think I can find it myself."


    I would be more likely to wander the citadel lost until someone finds me, but I don''t like the thought of having to spend time with First alone. I rather walk the gigantic fortress in an eternity.


    "I highly doubt that. How would you find the gardens if you cannot even visit Arkaros without someone holding your hand like a human child?"


    I''m trying to find an excuse, anything as long as I don''t have to be around his presence.


    "We don''t have time," Nine says, First moves his purple-colored eyes on him. He''s not smiling anymore. Nine continues, "make Deer take care of it."


    First stare at me for a long time. He sighs and claps his hands twice. A door shows up behind him. It looks shorter than ours, and since Sun mentioned that most doors to Arkaros was closed I have a feeling this one only works within Arkaros.


    "Deer will take care of you then," First says.


    The door opens and the same skeleton that had given Nine the contract in the dinner hall limps out of the door. On the other side there''s no whirling darkness, but a room with a strange mechanic. Deer is still dressed in brown rags, and each move it makes seem unnatural and clumsy.


    "Deer," First says without his eyes leaving mine, I have to force myself to not avert my gaze.


    "What could I do for you, Guardian First?"


    Deer bows clumsily with its hand over its chest.


    "Show this girl to the garden," he says and smiles with his teeth. "Hopefully we''ll have time to speak later, Orchid."


    "Of course," Deer says and bows again.


    Blomst gives me an apologetic glance before she turns her attention to First. "Are you done? We don''t have much time."


    First finally moves his gaze. "Let''s proceed then."


    I watch First move towards the stairs made of glass. Blomst and Sun follows him, while Nine observes me in a way I cannot understand, for a moment it looks like he wants to say something.


    "Nine," First calls out without turning around.


    Nine doesn''t even hesitate, he quickly turns around and heads towards the others.


    "Follow me, Soul wanderer," says Deer in its light, almost screechy voice.


    It leads me through a hidden corridor behind the stairs, after a few turns we stop in front of a large painting of a dark forest.


    "Through here."


    It steps through the painting and disappears in what looked like wet paint, it soon floats back to how it looked like, making it seem solid.


    I take a deep breath and step into the painting. On the other side is a long corridor, on its walls is murals of gardens with roses, tulips, or white orchids. I can feel a stinging ache within my heart when I look at the white flowers. When I try to imagine the orchids I gave my father on his funeral, I can remember them but the church itself is hazy ¨C I cannot fully see it.


    Bony fingers are carefully placed against my hand, and I notice I''ve stopped. Deer watches me with its glowing eye sockets. It has no skin, no muscles, yet I can still see how questioning it looks at me.


    "The garden is this way, soul wanderer," it says and blinks a few times before it lets go off my hand and continues down the corridor.

 Chapter 28 - (part 1)

    Deer leads me straight into a forest. It looks like the painting we had entered. It has the same dark and lonesome feeling, but it hadn¡¯t depicted the trail in front of us. It¡¯s lit up by wooden posts with lanterns hanging from them. Instead of a flame a light-blue orb floats behind the glass.


    I shouldn¡¯t be surprised of these places anymore, but it¡¯s hard to not be impressed when an entire forest exists inside of a gigantic fortress.


    ¡°If you follow the trail, you¡¯ll eventually reach a garden. Don¡¯t go too far,¡± Deer says.


    When I turn around to thank it, it has already returned to the corridor and all I see is the gate closing and blending into the wall, until it¡¯s completely gone. I sweep my eyes over the path and the dark trees that stands closely together. I would easily get lost if I decided to veer off the trail. Following Deer¡¯s advice for now seems like the best decision. I slowly follow the path with the wooden posts.


    The first garden I find is filled with light green bushes and trees. It feels like I¡¯ve entered an entirely different forest, one that is filled with sunlight. A stream runs through the garden, and it fills the area with a gentle sound of trickling water. I can also hear birds chirping, yet I cannot find any when I¡¯m looking around. The path ends in front of a wooden bridge, on its other side, a path of dark-grey stone slabs begins.


    I cross the bridge, and continue towards the garden where large rose bushes lie like a crescent moon around the white stone benches. The short trees move in the wind, and sunrays finds its way through the trees¡¯ leaves.


    Cerberus is standing in the garden. As always, he¡¯s dressed in spotless white clothes. This time the tall collar is embroidered in golden patterns that move down the torso. The black dreadlocks are tucked back, instead of loose like I¡¯ve previously seen him wear it.


    ¡°Orchid?¡± he asks, like he isn¡¯t certain I¡¯m actually standing there.


    I cannot blame him. First had made it clear I shouldn¡¯t be in the Citadel to begin with. Yet, I hadn¡¯t expected to see him here either. I¡¯m not sure how to act, the last time we had spoken all of my thoughts and feelings had been written on my face. He had opened up; said things he likely should never have mentioned. Yet it felt like he knew exactly what to say to make sure I only knew what he wanted to tell me.


    ¡°Ah, Cerberus.¡±


    ¡°Are you alone?¡± he asks and fixates his eyes behind me.


    ¡°Deer showed me the way to the gardens.¡±


    ¡°But she let you go here by yourself?¡± He asks and narrows the one blue eye. The scarred face still looks friendly ¨C if a bit doubtful.


    ¡°Yes?¡± I look around. ¡°Is there a problem?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s easy to get lost here if you step outside of the path. Deer should have showed you the entire way. It¡¯s unusual for new soul wanderers to visit the Citadel. What are you doing here?¡±


    I stand next to the rosebushes. He follows me with his gaze.


    ¡°I¡¯m here with Sun,¡± I say and study the roses, they¡¯re bigger than my hand. ¡°She was supposed to show me the library and the Hall of Memories. But something came up before we had time, so I¡¯m supposed to wait here until they¡¯re done.¡±


    ¡°Ah, the meeting,¡± he mumbles. It sounds like he¡¯s talking to himself more than me.


    I doubt that it¡¯s meant for him to attend the meeting, since he neither excuses himself nor outright leaves the garden.


    I gently touch the roses ¨C a coldness moves over my fingertips ¨C the same feeling as when you hold a hand towards an open freezer without touching anything, if slightly stronger.


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    ¡°Why is it that I can sometimes feel things? Like at the well ¨C when I touched the liquid it was like I could feel the sorrow itself. And the food that you can feel. What determines that?¡±


    Cerberus stands beside me; with one hand he gently touches one of the roses.


    ¡°You said you could feel things at the well,¡± I mention when he doesn¡¯t answer.


    He loosely holds one of the rose¡¯s petals between two of his fingers.


    ¡°All guardians can feel, it¡¯s different from your touch since we¡¯ve never had a human vessel.¡± He plucks the petal away from the rose and keeps holding it between his two fingers. ¡°We cannot feel heat nor cold. We cannot feel materials. Not soft nor hard. Not skin, neither my own nor someone else¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°How do you feel then?¡±


    ¡°When someone or something touches our skin we¡¯ll feel it, as will the ones touching us. This feeling, the soul wanderers have described it as electricity, a tickling feeling. I have nothing to compare it to, it¡¯s hard to explain with my own words.¡±


    He lets go of the petal; it slowly floats down towards the ground.


    ¡°Could you,¡± he pauses and hesitates, ¡°could you explain what it¡¯s like to touch as a human?¡±


    The question is asked carefully and gently, I also notice an eagerness behind the blue eye ¨C a thirst for knowledge. Cerberus is a mystery. At the well I had thought he had an aversion for humans and the living world, but this curiosity he has contradicts everything I thought of him. It makes me wonder if I misinterpreted him. And how could anyone explain something that is as normal as touch? I barely thought of how it felt like until I lost it.


    ¡°It has been a while since I could feel.¡±


    ¡°How did it feel like when you had your vessel?¡±


    I try to remember how petals used to feel against my skin. But all I can feel now is an empty sorrow. Do the guardians have the same longing and desire to feel like the soul wanderer has? If Cerberus didn¡¯t have the eager and curious look in his eye, I¡¯d believe you couldn¡¯t long for something you¡¯d never experienced. Maybe we¡¯re more similar than I¡¯d like to admit.


    ¡°I barely remember. I¡¯m always longing after it and when I¡¯m not feeling it, it¡¯s like I¡¯ve never experienced it.¡±


    Cerberus glances down at the roses. ¡°And now? Could you describe the rose?¡±


    I nod and slowly move my fingers around the rose. I cannot feel the flower against my fingers, but the cold sensation moves over my skin like invisible steam.


    ¡°I cannot feel the rose,¡± I admit, and lay the hand underneath so the top of my fingers touches the stem. ¡°I feel that something cold is moving up my fingers.¡±


    I pull away my hand and Cerberus seems even more confused and frustrated.


    ¡°I see¡­ as for your earlier question, on what determines what you can feel. I have no good answer for it. I¡¯m not fully aware of why. But there are places, worlds that are ancient, they existed long before us.¡±


    It¡¯s a terrifying thought that there were worlds that existed before them, it makes me wonder what created them ¨C or what created the guardians, or if they just started existing one day.


    ¡°Many of the ancient worlds have traits that the others don¡¯t. There are creators, beings that spend much of their time in these kinds of worlds to create goods they sell to the market vendors. Sometimes these traits spill out of those worlds and into others. Like these roses.¡±


    I look at the red rose I¡¯ve just touched. ¡°These¡­ traits, they can reach the Citadel?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s unusual after all the doors to Arkaros ¨C except the main entrance ¨C were closed. But it¡¯s not impossible.¡±


    Sun had said the same thing, that every way ¨C except the one we came from ¨C to Arkaros is closed. How are these traits able to make their way to the Citadel if all the doors are closed? The main entrance is quite far from the Citadel, could it get all the way here without affecting anything else? And not to speak of what they had told me when I met them the first time.


    ¡°Cerberus,¡± I begin carefully, ¡±when me and Clover were called to speak with you, about one of the fractured, you mentioned that something was stolen.¡±


    ¡°We did.¡±


    I cannot read the expression on his face, but it looks harsher than I¡¯d prefer.


    ¡°You thought the fractured ones was involved¡­ If all doors are closed, how did they get through?¡±


    A sudden fear hits me out of nowhere, but it doesn¡¯t last long ¨C only a few seconds ¨C but it makes me shake uncontrollably. It crept underneath my skin long enough for me to feel terrified, and I know that it¡¯s Cerberus that¡¯s causing it.


    I take a step back. First, I thought it was a punishment for asking a question I never should have asked. But I realize that¡¯s not what it is at all. It¡¯s a warning ¨C one that tells me that I¡¯m on all too thin ice.


    Cerberus straightens his back and gives me an apologetic expression with tense lips. It gave him no joy to have to warn me in this way, I know that, but a part of the feeling still lingers on my skin.


    ¡°The meeting is not over in a long while. They have a lot to speak of. Would you like me to show you the rest of the garden?¡±


    He forces a smile, like he hadn¡¯t made me feel like I was made of fragile glass.


    A part of me want to decline and find a place where I can build myself up again.


    ¡°Alright,¡± I say with a broken voice.

 Chapter 28 - (part 2)

    Cerberus leads me further into the forest, and on the way towards his favorite place, I see multiple resting places ¨C as Cerberus called them. One of them are filled with white orchids, it looks like one of the murals from the corridor. I think of my dad and his funeral. I want to stay here, but I don¡¯t dare to say anything. We don¡¯t talk a lot, just in the beginning. Cerberus mentions that he¡¯d like to show me one of his favorite places. When we reach it, I understand why. It¡¯s bigger than the other resting places and is overgrown in greenery and flowers. I¡¯ve never seen them before, but they look real, like they could have belonged in the living world.


    We follow the path next to a short stone wall until we reach a wooden gazebo surrounded by greenery and purple flowers. Inside two people are seated, the woman has her back towards us while the man looks up at us as we approach them.


    He looks East Asian. The wild hair hangs down one side of his face, almost hiding his eye. The color of his hair is divided into two parts at the hairline. One side is black while the other snow white. When he approaches us, I notice that his eyes are two different colors, one black and the other light grey, almost white. At his forehead, a black and white sun is depicted, almost fully hidden by the black side of his hair. It¡¯s another guardian, one I¡¯ve never seen before. His eyes slightly widen as our gazes meet.


    The woman looks at us and I have to stop myself from jerking back. I¡¯m not met by two eyes, but three. The third eye sits upon her forehead, the same area where the male guardian has the mark of the two-colored sun. This eye however is no tattoo, mark nor jewelry ¨C it¡¯s a real eye. Her two eyes below are brown, while the third¡¯s iris is ivory white, the pupil is of a misty black color. All three of them blink.


    The other guardian is dressed in an elegant black and white suit with flower motives. The smile on his lips isn¡¯t as kind-hearted as the one Cerberus often has, but neither is it the arrogant one First gave me.


    ¡°Cerberus,¡± the guardian greets him; he studies my face a few seconds before he continues, ¡±who is your friend?¡±


    ¡°Orchid,¡± Cerberus answers.


    ¡°One of Blomst¡¯s soul wanderer?¡±


    The man scrunches his face, like Cerberus had said something taboo. Yet, I remember how Blomst had acted when she realized I had spoken with Cerberus, and how I had seen First and Nine in the Hall of Souls. Maybe it was taboo to spend time with a soul wanderer that worked under another guardian ¨C unless there was a good reason behind it. An uncomfortable feeling creeps forward, one I neither try to show or feel.


    ¡°She came here with Sun and Nine. Blomst placed her in the garden until the meeting is over.¡±


    I try to not think of how Cerberus phrased it. It makes me feel like a child ¨C and in worst case a doll that the guardians can place wherever they want.


    ¡°I see, I see,¡± he says with a smile and extends his hand. ¡°Nice to meet you, Orchid. I¡¯m Vrana.¡±


    I carefully offer him my hand. I feel the tickling electricity over every millimeter his skin touches mine. When he pulls back his arm, it¡¯s like a layer of something remains.


    ¡°What are you doing in Arkaros?¡± He doesn¡¯t avert his gaze as he stares me down. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen you here before.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here for the Hall of Memories.¡±


    He blinks a few times, and then smiles again. This time it¡¯s bigger than the one earlier. It makes me feel a bit uneasy.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right. I did hear that Cerberus had suggested Health and Sickness for one of Blomst¡¯s soul wanderers,¡± he turns to Cerberus, ¡°she was all but pleased with that behavior, old friend.¡±


    ¡°It was a simple suggestion. If she didn¡¯t agree, she could have put Orchid wherever she saw fit. And she must have agreed in the end.¡± He speaks elegantly, yet there¡¯s a sharpness to his words.


    Vrana smiles with his teeth. ¡°That she must have. A warning next time, Blomst has never liked when we lay our noses in her business, especially when her possessions are involved, as delightful as it might be to stir her up.¡±


    Cerberus frowns. ¡°You¡¯re mistaken, Vrana. I¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re scaring the girl,¡± the woman in the gazebo says.


    She rises from the bench. Dressed in a red, skintight dress that brings forth her curves, she moves elegantly and slowly as she approaches us. She stands next to Vrana and looks at him with her brown eyes, the white eye is focused on me.


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    ¡°Possessions? Dear Vrana, think about how you phrase things. She¡¯s her own person.¡± Her brown eyes meet mine. ¡°Aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I certainly hope so.¡±


    ¡°So do I.¡± She pulls slightly at Vrana¡¯s sleeve. ¡°So be careful how you phrase it. Blomst might be this soul wanderer¡¯s guardian, but that doesn¡¯t mean she owns her. No one of us owns our soul wanderers. You¡¯re people, not cattle.¡±


    Vrana chuckles. ¡°I¡¯m not so sure First would agree with your generous assertion, Liria.¡±


    I¡¯m having a hard time believing her. Yet, I don¡¯t dare to object. If I¡¯m scared to voice my own thoughts and opinions in front of these guardians, I cannot think of myself as free. Not completely.


    They can make up a word for it. Call it a job ¨C a purpose. I''m stuck here and I don''t think they would let me quit working for them if I asked. No, I will be here for hundreds of years until they give me the right to my own funeral. The only way out of this.


    ¡°Besides, I¡¯m not so sure it¡¯s that easily put, as lovely as it would be if it was true. Sadly, the truth is always grimmer, isn¡¯t it?¡± Vrana says.


    I¡¯m having a hard time reading Vrana, which makes me feel even more uncomfortable.


    ¡°Well, we had no plans to stay here for much longer. We have some things to attend to before the theater opens.¡± He directs the different-colored eyes at me. ¡°It was nice to meet you, Orchid. Hopefully it won¡¯t be the last I¡¯ll see of you.¡±


    ¡°It was nice to meet you too.¡±


    He smiles at me again, this time it¡¯s slightly crooked, and his eyebrows are raised. He knows I¡¯m not being fully honest, yet he doesn¡¯t mention it.


    ¡°Shall we?¡± He says and offers Liria his arm.


    She nods and links her arm around his. Vrana turns to us.


    ¡°We¡¯ll talk later then, Cerberus,¡± he says and leads Liria out of the garden.


    I watch them as they disappear behind the stone wall and the trees surrounding it.


    ¡°We can stay here until they¡¯re done with their meeting,¡± Cerberus says shortly after both Liria and Vrana have disappeared from our vision.


    He walks into the gazebo but doesn¡¯t sit down at the benches. He stands with his back against me and focuses on the forest and greenery in front of him.


    ¡°Do you know them well?¡± I ask and sit down; Cerberus has a gentle grip on the gazebo¡¯s pillars.


    ¡°Liria and Vrana?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    It looks strange when the greenery meets the dark forest where sunlight won¡¯t reach, like it¡¯s two entirely different places.


    ¡°I do. I know all guardians well, we have to, considering our status. There can be dislike and distaste for each other, but we must all be on the same page.¡±


    ¡°Yet, it seems like you don¡¯t share a lot of opinions with each other.¡±


    ¡°Some of us do. Others do not. Do you remember what I said at the well?¡±


    I stretch my legs, and let my eyes scan the area. I can still hear the bird chirping but not see a single one of them.


    ¡°You said a lot of things.¡±


    ¡°I mentioned that guardians look at soul wanderers differently. First sees you as a tool, or as cattle. Couleur sees herself as a mother. While Liria and Vrana might have disagreed, they both see you as their equals. Vrana is a bit more realistic in his view on the current situation than what Liria is. But you can trust them.¡±


    I¡¯m having a hard time believing him after what Vrana had said, there was something unpleasant about how he approached the subject.


    ¡°Liria seems trustworthy,¡± I say but I¡¯m not sure I even believe that, more so than Vrana at least.


    Cerberus sighs. ¡°Liria has a good heart. But she has a naivety that the other guardians don¡¯t. Vrana is more realistic. He knows the power differences between us but understands it¡¯s there for a reason.¡±


    Cerberus has turned around and is leaning towards the gazebo with his calves crossed over each other.


    ¡°Then what do you think?¡± I ask after a while. ¡°You mentioned you felt sorry for us at the well, but that doesn¡¯t say anything about how you look at the differences between us. On the role we play in your games. You¡¯re powerful creatures, much more powerful than we are.¡±


    I turn my face away and bite my lip. I had let the bitterness take over and spoken too harshly again. I wish I could learn to shut up for once.


    ¡°You overestimate us, Orchid. We¡¯re not omnipotent.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not?¡± I pause, not sure if I¡¯d want to ask the next question, ¡°Aren¡¯t you gods?¡±


    Cerberus laughs and places a hand over his mouth just after a large, amused smile covers his face.


    ¡°Gods? Do you think so highly of us?¡±


    ¡°I, uh, I,¡± I stutter, trying to collect my thoughts, ¡°you can make an entire room feel suffocating. I can feel your power in the air, how could I not believe you¡¯re gods?¡±


    Cerberus lowers his hand and sighs softly; the amused smile remains. ¡°Our emotions can be tangible if they¡¯re strong enough. Are we powerful? Yes, I¡¯d lie if I said we didn¡¯t have considerably more power than most, if not all, of the beings here. But you have a very distorted image of how powerful we are.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re not gods, what are you? Beings? Humans? Are you even souls?¡±


    He stares at me and breathes in deeply before he speaks. ¡°You have many questions that I cannot answer.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t or won¡¯t?¡±


    ¡±It¡¯s more complicated than that,¡± he says and stands up straight. ¡°But I do have a suggestion for you.¡±


    He takes a few steps forward and turns fully towards me.


    ¡°Two times a year the theater is open for all who would like to take part of it. Why don¡¯t you follow me there tonight?¡±


    I cross my arms over my stomach when I feel a familiar unpleasant feeling, like anxiety is building up. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a good idea.¡±


    ¡°I insist. We can speak without interruptions when the theater has begun. I might have some answers for your questions. Besides I have a few I¡¯d like to ask myself.¡±


    ¡°You might answer my questions?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll answer those I¡¯m able to. You won¡¯t be disappointed.¡±


    I know it¡¯s a bad idea to agree to it when I don¡¯t even know what he wants to ask, yet I nod.


    ¡°Good. When you¡¯re finished with the Hall of Memories, come meet me in my office.¡±

 Chapter 29

    It takes an hour before the meeting is over, neither Blomst nor Sun are present and it¡¯s Nine who approaches us from the trail next to the stone wall. He has the same expressionless face as always. Cerberus looks behind him, like he¡¯s expecting to see First on the trail, but Nine is alone.


    ¡°Where is Sun?¡± I ask when he reaches the gazebo.


    ¡°She¡¯s preoccupied. She asked me to show you the Hall of Memories instead.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask.¡± He shrugs slightly and thereafter looks at Cerberus. ¡°First also asked you to see him.¡±


    Cerberus rises from the bench and straightens the white shirt. He seems tenser since Nine mentioned First. He said that he wasn¡¯t fond of the man, but I must have not realized how much he disliked First until I saw the kind-hearted face turn into something tense and bitter.


    ¡°Where is he?¡±


    ¡°First said something about a mirror room.¡±


    Cerberus give me an apologetic smile. ¡°Remember what we spoke of. Tonight.¡±


    I give him a short nod. Cerberus walks down the stairs and continues down the trail.


    ¡°The Hall of Memories are closed at evenings and nights when the theater is open for all. We still have a few hours left if you¡¯d want me to show it,¡± Nine says.


    ¡°Alright then, I might as well get it over with.¡±


    Nine mumbles something incomprehensible and we follow the trail through the greenery and the tall trees that stand in a line behind the stone wall. They¡¯re not spruces like the ones in the dark forest, these looks more like big oaks with leaves hanging down over us.


    ¡°When do you think Sun is done?¡± I ask when the silence becomes too intrusive.


    Nine continues to walk down the trail, for a while I think he¡¯s ignoring me until he finally answers, ¡°I don¡¯t know. She asked me to show you to the doorways outside of the city if you cannot find your way out yourself.¡±


    Not anytime soon then.


    We find our way out of the trail with the luminous lanterns, and continue onwards until we reach the resting place with the white orchids. If it wasn¡¯t for the theater, I would have asked Nine to stay here for a while, even if the silence that hangs around him is unpleasant. The silence between me and Cerberus had been uncomfortable, yet it had still been more pleasant than this. How could I feel more comfortable with whatever Cerberus is over a human being? Yet Nine doesn¡¯t seem to care for the silence, he seems to be comfortable in it.


    To my surprise there¡¯s a gate waiting on the wall once we reach the beginning. It¡¯s not the same that Deer had created. This one is an almost transparent gate of black steel.


    Nine stops in front of the gate. ¡°Before we go in, I need to warn you.¡±


    This cannot be good.


    ¡°For what?¡±


    I can feel it seeping out of the door; I swallow and try to pretend I don¡¯t notice the nausea that climbs up my throat.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed how the Realm uses you, how it creates things out of your own memories and your inner being?¡±


    I shake my head. I¡¯ve only noticed the rooms, but I thought someone had crafted it for me, not the Realm of the Dead itself.


    ¡°No? The way you stared at the resting place with the white orchids made me think you had noticed it.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡±All resting places in this garden is created by those who are present in the Citadel. The gazebo area is a mix between Cerberus and Vrana¡¯s resting place, and the rose bushes are Liria¡¯s. I¡¯ve never seen the one with the orchids before, and the way you stared at them, it¡¯s likely yours.¡±


    I don¡¯t know what to say. I had unknowingly created a resting place of white orchids ¨C a flower I associate with my father¡¯s death. I don¡¯t want to think of what might hide further in.


    ¡°The corridor also changes by the one who creates it,¡± he says.


    ¡°So, what awaits on the other side?¡±


    ¡°Nothing good, just forgotten pain. Remember to keep going. Don¡¯t get stuck,¡± he says and opens the door.


    The door closes by itself when we step into the total darkness. I take a deep breath and my entire chest is filled by a heavy and sorrowful apathy.


    It feels like I¡¯m treading through deep mud in the pitch-black corridor, and for each step I take it becomes longer. I can see it in the end of the corridor ¨C the white gate. It¡¯s shining ever so slightly. But it¡¯s like a lighthouse leading me out of this suffocating, narrow space.


    And I want to scream when I see the light go out. I want to sit down and let the darkness and the heavy air pull me through the floor.


    ¡°Move,¡± Nine mumbles; I barely recognize his voice.


    I push through the mud that gets thicker the closer I am to the gate. It burns in my chest, throat, and eyes.


    Just a little longer.


    He reaches for the doorknob, his fingers touch the surface and leaves black marks, like he has dipped his hand in oil. He firmly grips the doorknob and turns it, light pours into the corridor and we stumble out in a room I¡¯ve never seen before.


    Nine has pressed his hands against his pale face. There¡¯s no sign of the color I had seen on his fingers, how they had soiled what he touched. He sits down at the floor with his elbows pushed against his knees, his hands shake violently.


    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± I breathe.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to answer that,¡± he says.


    ¡°The truth would be appropriate.¡±


    It takes a while before he answers, ¡°nightmares¡­ from when I was alive. I think.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you could remember things from your life.¡±


    I take a deep breath when the thoughts of the hopelessness I felt forces itself back to my mind. I have seen the open wounds on his arms, how deep they are.


    He gets up from the ground. ¡°I cannot. I dream about the emotions. Those I cannot forget it seems, maybe that¡¯s another punishment for taking destiny in my own hands.¡±


    He sounds bitter. I cannot blame him for it. Nine¡¯s eyes are glossy and slightly wet. I cannot think of anything appropriate to say after what he told me, so I put my arms around myself like I was cold and focus on the room in front of us. We¡¯re in a hall of large ice-like crystals, and they¡¯re growing out of the floor, ceiling, and walls.


    ¡°We need to get out of here. Sooner rather than later,¡± Nine says and we head towards the large crystals surrounding most of the hall.


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    It seems to be the only way out, most sides are covered in them, some growing out of each other, others grow far enough that they touch the ceiling. It would be impossible to climb. Our only way out of here is if we can find a way through the crystals on the floor. A medium-sized path leads into what I could only guess what would be a labyrinth of crystals.


    When we walk by them, I can see our reflection. But they¡¯re wrong. They¡¯re not us. At least not the person we are today ¨C not the one that others see. Mine is the dead body Emma held in her embrace. The brown hair is stuck to the blood covering my face, it glimmers from the pieces of glass in my hair. I cannot stop staring at the open gash on my throat where blood is pulsating out, it runs down my clothes until it drips down and colors the white floor.


    The eyes are exhausted and filled with apathy. I remember what I and Emma had fought about that day. How angry I¡¯d been that I had to be the one to take care of her, that she wasn¡¯t trying. The truth was more complicated. At that time, I didn¡¯t understand mine nor Emma¡¯s feelings. Not completely.


    I look at Nine¡¯s reflection. I didn¡¯t think his eyes could seem more apathetic, and I¡¯m forced to take a deep breath and relax my jaw to keep the tears from falling. The open wounds on his arms aren¡¯t as naked as before, blood flood down his arms and continues down his hands and fingers.


    I force myself to look at my reflection again.


    ¡°What is this?¡± I ask; it sounds like my voice will collapse on itself.


    The reflection¡¯s mouth moves as I speak. It has to be someone else that is standing in front of me, that cannot be me.


    ¡°Our death,¡± Nine says and his voice sounds as steady as before. ¡°I¡¯ve heard that this hall exists in the Citadel. But I¡¯ve never been here before.¡±


    ¡°Is it dangerous?¡±


    For a brief moment, it appears like the reflection is grinning in a repulsive way at my question.


    It takes some time for him to answer. ¡°I don¡¯t know. There are few who wants ¨C or are allowed ¨C to visit this hall. I¡¯ve heard stories, but it¡¯s hard to know what¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°And why did we end up here? It seems to me like you¡¯re saying this place is forbidden to us.¡±


    ¡°It is forbidden,¡± he says, ¡°and I don¡¯t know how we ended up here.¡±


    ¡°Not a single theory?¡±


    His eyebrows move inward slightly. ¡°When I reached for the gate, I wanted out of there. I didn''t think about where I wanted to go. It could be that the corridor brought us here because I didn''t have a clear place in mind.¡±


    His reflection grins and its teeth are colored red.


    Why did this place even exist in the Citadel? It made no sense. How come we ended up here when it likely wasn¡¯t even allowed?


    ¡°So¡­ What¡¯s the plan? How do we get out of here?¡±


    Nine tenses his jaw and looks straight at me, it¡¯s obvious he has to force himself to not look at the reflection.


    ¡°Avoid looking at them, and make sure to not touch the crystals.¡±


    I can see them move in the corner of my eye.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I whisper, ¡±and the getting out part? How do we deal with that?¡±


    ¡°There has to be a way out of here. Somehow. I don¡¯t think we can go back the way we came from.¡±


    He lowers his eyes, and focuses on the ground, and continues on the path between the crystals. I do the same. I cannot stop thinking of the blood that covered both mine and Nine¡¯s reflection.


    We don¡¯t speak, and I¡¯m not sure if Nine leads us further in or out of the labyrinth of crystals. Something he might not be aware of himself.


    ¡°Touch me.¡±


    I stop dead in my tracks as I hear my own voice echo throughout the hall, yet it doesn¡¯t sound quite like me. Nine turns around and stares at me like he just realized something.


    ¡°What did you say?¡±


    I cannot answer before my voice echoes over the hall once again, ¡°touch us.¡±


    When he realizes that my lips aren¡¯t moving with the words, he angles his face down again, and slowly moves across the glistening floor. Out of the corner of my eye I can see them following us with quick and agile movements.


    ¡°Puuduta meid,¡± Nine says in a language I cannot understand.


    It makes me think of Finnish, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s the same language. The voice has the same resonance as the former one.


    ¡°Do not listen to it. Don¡¯t touch the crystals.¡±


    I try to not think of the flooding blood, or how my fingers are itching to touch the crystals, to put my entire palm against them, just a few seconds to remove the longing that have dug itself deeply into my fingertips.


    ¡°Sinu nimi on Henri Kask. Ma v?in sulle rohkem r??kida. Puuduta mind.¡±


    Nine stops and clenches his fist. Whatever it had said, it touched a nerve.


    ¡°Nine?¡± I ask, sounding just as pitiful as I feel.


    He relaxes his fists. ¡±We need to get out of here.¡±


    He moves forward with his head lowered.


    ¡°Jonna B?ck,¡± my voice speaks. ¡°See? I gave you your last name back. The one you have forgotten. The one they stole from you.¡±


    My entire body tenses up. It sounds alive and all-knowing; I cannot stop myself from settling into this thirst for knowledge. I quietly mumble the words Nine told me. That I cannot listen to them. Not touch them.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it unfair?¡±


    ¡°Kas pole mitte ebaaus?¡±


    ¡°They refuse to give you the rest you deserve, they put you to work where you¡¯ll reap your own people¡¯s soul for centuries. They steal your names, your memories. Your right to live. It¡¯s not fair.¡±


    We turn to the side and are met by crystals that sit uncomfortably close to each other.


    ¡°Is freedom too much to ask for?¡±


    ¡°Is there no other way through?¡± I ask and watch the narrow spaces between the crystals, the reflections smile so largely it almost looks comical.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen another one. Nor do we have time to search. We have to get out. I can feel it in my mind.¡±


    ¡±Is your identity too much to ask for?¡± my voice questions.


    Nine takes a few steps forward and studies the crystals. I¡¯m not sure how we¡¯ll get past it without touching them. He takes a deep breath and continues forward.


    ¡°Be careful,¡± I say.


    He gives me a slight glance and a short nod before he carefully places one of his foot in the space between the crystals, the reflection moves with him with the unpleasant, bloody grin.


    ¡°They take so much from you and demand even more.¡±


    Nine continues in between the crystals with his entire body, for a brief moment it looks like his back will touch one of the crystals. He¡¯s able to just barely exit the tight space without touching anything.


    He turns around and gives me a nod, a signal that tells me it¡¯s my turn.


    ¡°Do you not understand that they are using you? To them you¡¯re nothing else but cattle. Do you not deserve to know who you have been?¡±


    I take a few steps forward. There has to be an easier way to get through than this all too dangerous, tight space. I look up at Nine, with my face likely covered in uncertainty.


    ¡°Take it slow and careful,¡± he says.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡±


    I begin like Nine had done, with one foot between the crystals, then carefully I continue with the rest of my body. I have to lean forward to make sure the crystals behind me won¡¯t touch my back.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have the right to keep your identity? Are you really Orchid, or are you Jonna?¡±


    I carefully make my way through the narrow space; I have to angle my foot so it doesn¡¯t touch the small crystals that stick out from the floor.


    ¡°You¡¯ll forget who you are, Jonna. Just like Nine. Just like Clover.¡±


    Something enters my mind; it feels like a cat scratching a door. Let me in, says a voice in the depths of myself. It has broken the first barrier, but it hasn¡¯t gotten far enough to make me do what it wants.


    Let me in and everything you desire will be within reach.


    I take another step; a few more and I¡¯ll be out.


    ¡°I can help you, Jonna. I know how you can remember again. How you can remember your sister. Your father. All you need to do is lean on me.¡±


    Nine holds out his hand towards me.


    ¡°I can make you remember. You¡¯ll never have to be scared of losing everything. I¡¯m here to help you.¡±


    I hesitate and look up at the reflection, the anger and apathy I had seen is no longer there. There¡¯s a calmness over the face, and a beautiful peaceful smile is upon its lips.


    ¡°You¡¯ll never forget.¡±


    ¡°Orchid,¡± Nine warns me; he is still holding out his hand. ¡°Whatever it is promising you, know that it¡¯s lying. It won¡¯t give you anything. Don¡¯t trust it.¡±


    ¡°He lies. He wants to be here; the deep wounds are the evidence. He brought himself here, defied destiny. Who¡¯d want to remember a life that was so cruel that they ended it? I have nothing to offer him. But you, Jonna. I can give you so much if you just let me touch you.¡±


    The scratching in my mind feels like a gentle caress.


    You can trust me.


    I turn my head towards the reflection in the crystal, the smile becomes more beautiful.


    ¡°Orchid!¡± Nine shouts. ¡°Whatever the hell this is, they locked it inside the Citadel to make sure soul wanderers had no way of accessing it. If they let the librarians roam the halls in the library¡­ do you realize what you¡¯re dealing with?!¡±


    I move my head; the reflection does the same but with the warm and peaceful smile on its lips.


    ¡°Shut it out!¡±


    I blink a few times and look down at the gash on my throat where the blood pumps out, how it has almost fully dyed my yellow sweater into a dark red.


    ¡°Trust me,¡± it says; this time it sounds more desperate.


    I hold out my hand towards Nine.


    ¡°No! I can help you!¡± It roars, making my voice sound more twisted and disturbed. Like I just heard a part of its true self.


    Nine grabs my hand and quickly pulls me out of the narrow space. My hip moves swiftly against one of the crystals. I can feel it, if only for a second or two. The pain from my death, how my throat is cut open. I also receive an image in my mind. A hand wrinkled by old age, reaching for me with its long fingers, and touching the end of my sweater. It wore a strange and complex ring with a symbol I¡¯ve never seen before.


    Both I and Nine lands on the floor with a loud thud. I quickly get up and stare at the crystals. The image of the old hand reaching for me won¡¯t leave my mind.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    I turn around to see Nine with his hands on his knees as he stands up from the floor.


    ¡°I¡­ Yeah. Yeah, I¡¯m alright.¡±


    I¡¯m not sure I even believe myself, and by the look Nine gives me, I don¡¯t think he does either.


    ¡°I found the way out,¡± Nine says.


    He seems to be right, on this side of the hall there¡¯s very few of the crystals, and there¡¯s a large gate behind us, further down the wall. When paying attention, I notice the voice has gone fully silent. Either when Nine pulled me out of the narrow space, or after it almost touched me. The thought of what would have happened if it had actually laid its old, wrinkly hand on me is a worrying one.

 Chapter 30 - (part 1)

    The sky is no longer blue like it was when we arrived in Arkaros. Now it''s covered in a mix of pink and orange clouds. Nine had told me it would take a few minutes to go from the Citadel to the Hall of Memories, but that we would be in time before the theater started and the hall closed for the night.


    I haven''t let go of the thought of what happened in the crystal hall, the image of the old hand is still fresh in my mind.


    "I touched the crystals when you pulled me out."


    Nine has gone back to his silent self and hasn''t said much unless I asked direct questions, and then I was usually met with short sentences as answers, sometimes a single word or two.


    "What happened?"


    It was the first time he asked a question since we left the Citadel.


    "I felt the pain of my death."


    I felt how the glass cut into my throat. The words force itself into my mind.


    "I saw a hand too," I say when I cannot get rid of the image of the bloody gash in my mind. "Not physical... in my mind. It was old and wore a ring with a symbol. You said that you had heard stories of the hall, did any of them mention this?"


    He continues down the street without looking at me. "No."


    "What were the rumors and stories you did hear then?"


    "The most common was that the hall was a prison for the Guardians old enemies. When they couldn''t be faded, they locked them into one of the Citadel''s halls. A single touch is supposed to make us disappear. If what you''re telling me is true, then you''re still standing here after it touched you. It''s likely more myth than truth."


    I doubt it. There had to be some truth to the legend. I had heard the hatred in the voices, it had forced its emotions upon me. If the guardians had imprisoned an enemy inside of crystals it was obvious that they would carry an unbelievable hatred. It had spoken of peace and for a few seconds I feel sorry for it. But it is imprisoned there for a reason, and who knows what would have happened if it did grab me.


    "What did it say to you?" I ask.


    "It told me to touch it."


    "Just that?"


    He shakes his head. "It... It spoke in my head. Once it had entered it was like it never shut up."


    I want to ask what it said in his mind, but I shouldn''t dig any deeper. Not after how unpleasant and disturbing his corridor had been.


    We turn to a broader street; it leads to a big building. I don''t have to ask Nine, I know what lays in front of us is the Hall of Memories. It''s gigantic, almost the size of the Citadel fortress. It has the same white walls as the rest of the buildings in the skyborn city. Two large towers reach high above the wall.


    The Hall of Memories has two stairs ¨C in the shape of a half circle ¨C that each leads to a pale blue door. One for creatures and another for soul wanderers.


    Nine leads me up to one and doesn''t pay attention to the creatures on the other stairs. Most of them are of a pale, white color like the rest of the city. Some of the creatures stand out from the line. I imagine they''re from other worlds visiting the capital of the Realm of the Dead.


    Our pale blue door opens by an elderly creature that looks nearly human. She''s short, would be slightly taller if it wasn''t for her humped back. She has a large eye in the middle of her face, with a small round nose, and thin, chapped lips.


    She waves us inside with a weathered hand, it makes me think of the image of that thing.


    She points with one of her abnormally long fingers at the black stairs behind her, it seems to lead up into one of the towers."Up the stairs, boy."


    He gives the old lady a head gesture.


    "It will look different each time you come here," he says and walks up the black, gleaming spiral stairs, that follow the shape of the tower. "It never looks the same. Follow the chatelaine directions and you''ll always find your way."


    "Is she a creature? Like the ones that live in the worlds?"


    Large portraits of women hang on the wall as we climb the long stairway. They''re dressed in clothes from different eras and cultures. All of them carries the same blank expression, except the eyes that are too intensive for my liking. It feels like they''re staring right at us. Like they can hear us.


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    "She''s something," he says, "but no normal being."


    I turn away from the portraits. "So something similar to the librarians?"


    "Something like that, yes."


    I don''t dare to look at the portraits again. I''m convinced that the blank expression has turned into something else, and I''ve had enough of things that should stay the same changing. The reflections in the crystal hall had been bad enough. I don''t want to challenge fate by looking at these portraits, not knowing what kind they really are. Things are rarely as simple as they look here.


    Once we reach the end of the stairs we''re met with a long corridor. There are no doors on its sides, just an opening at the end of the hallway. The only way to go but down. We continue forward, and the silence once again fall between us. Once we cross the opening, we step into a round room that has three large windows with no glass. In the middle there''s a pool filled with clear water, surrounding it is a green fence with four openings.


    I step further into the jade-colored room. The pool''s water seems like it would reach my knees at most.


    "You can visit the world you created in here," Nine says and turns to the pool.


    "In there...?"


    "Yes, where else?" He approaches the fence. "Sit down in the water and open the world. Just focus on it entirely. Closing your eyes helps."


    I hesitate and it takes some time before I can force my legs to move. Nine seems to be patient with me, probably more patient than anyone I''ve met here so far.


    "It''s safe. It just might feel a little uncomfortable at first."


    I slowly step into the pool. A chill spreads in my body, it goes all the way to my fingertips. I can feel the water, or maybe it''s the cold that confuses me. I sit down and the water reaches my chest and I take short, shuddering breaths as the cold creeps further in.


    I take Nine''s advice to heart and close my eyes. I think of the hidden world I created. My thoughts drift to the freckles covering her face, how the red hair laid on her shoulders.


    It clicks and when I open my eyes I''m no longer in the tower, yet I still feel the coldness surrounding me.


    It doesn''t look real. Like I''ve entered a forgotten world that has started to peel away. The colors are weak, everything is pale and almost grey. Big parts of the area are covered in a darkness that is dripping down at the ground, and over the grey house like thick paint.


    I carefully cross the grassy lawn. I try to breathe normally, even though it feels like I''m freezing to death from the inside.


    The grass is brownish grey. It has once been green. This place used to be more colorful than the somber dystopia in front of me. There''s love here, but it''s old and forgotten and you can barely feel it anymore.


    I reach the small, almost overgrown stone path that leads to the house. You can hear a dog bark in the distance, and a shape of blue gleaming dust is standing by the window. It extends an arm over the table, and even if I cannot see the details in its face, I know that the shape is talking and smiling.


    Mother. I hear the word in my mind, like a gentle whisper. I feel that forgotten, old love that is fading away with the rest of this place, it belongs to a person that no longer exists.


    The shape next to the table disappears and I''m staring into an empty kitchen. The front door opens by itself and invites me. I take it slowly, let it take the time it needs. It smells like home, and a strong feeling on nostalgia hangs around me when I explore the hallways and continue into the living room.


    Two shapes of the same blue gleaming dust sit in the sofa. One is a little girl and the other is the shape I had seen reach over the table. Mother.


    "Did... know... John...? He..."


    English. I cannot understand the meaning of what they say, there''s too many parts that are missing. The voices sound alien, like I''m in a familiar dream of nostalgia and the unknown.


    "Laura... you..."


    The voices die out and the shapes disappears from the sofa and all that is left is a lone living room. I stand there for a brief moment before I continue on my search. I reach some stairs in the hallway. A shape of a girl, the same one from the sofa, is sitting on the lower parts of the stairs.


    "...Unfair!"


    Mother is crouching down in front of the girl and wiping away the tears with her thumbs.


    "It''s... cry... he... better... remember... times."


    Mother takes her in her embrace and strokes her hair. A sorrow hangs over the hallway and her cries cuts into my heart.


    "They... short... give... with... here..."


    The shapes disappears once again and I continue up the stairs, towards a room I know belongs to her. She''s sitting on the bed ¨C not the shape but the little girl. She''s just as grey and pale as the rest of this world. Parts of her are covered in a deep black paint, so thick that it''s impossible to know what hides behind.


    I know that she is only a part of this world I''ve created of her memories. But I cannot see the girl as anything but real, even though she''s almost peeling away in front of me.


    She gets up from the bed and sits down on the floor in front of a cloth doll. It''s not as pale and grey like the rest of this place, and its colors are so vivid that it burns to look at it. The doll is the exact belonging I''ve been looking for.


    The girl picks up the colorful toy and places it on her knee, with her other hand she picks up another doll ¨C that is just as pale and grey as the rest of the world ¨C and puts it on the other knee.


    "Well, monsieur. I certainly did not expect you to invite me ¨C a princess ¨C for tea." She speaks clearly.


    I take a step closer and focus on the toy.


    "My princess, how could I ever," she begins with an exaggerated dark voice but when I take another step closer, she stops in the middle of the sentence and looks up at me.


    She widens her eyes but before I can say something she fades away until nothing of her is left. The colorful doll lays on the floor with the face pushed against the wooden floorboards. I bend down to pick it up. It has red braided hair, with a crown made of yarn. The dress is white with yellow patterns embroidered along the lower parts. Below the closed eyes is two rosy circles.


    I study it so I remember each detail of the doll. When I''ve made sure I''ve put everything to memory, I think of the deep place in my mind, I imagine myself putting the doll in the darkness and when I open my eyes again my hands are empty.


    I think of the rounded room with the pool on my memory before I close my eyes again. I focus on the coldness, on the water I''m sitting in. I think of the tower and Nine that is waiting for me to come back.

 Chapter 30 - (part 2)

    I open my eyes and suck in the cold air. The cold feels even more tangible, it makes me shiver uncontrollably.


    "Did you find it?" He asks, resting his arms against the fence.


    I answer by closing my eyes for a few seconds, and when I open them again Laura''s belonging is floating above the water.


    "A doll?" Nine asks.


    I pick up the doll and it hangs lifelessly over my hand. "Yeah, it was her childhood''s home."


    I can still feel the world in my head, like I haven''t quite closed the gate to it yet. A feeling of forgetfulness remains, like my mind is starting to peel away like the memory of the house.


    "Is it normal to feel like uhm... my mind is fading away?"


    "So I''ve heard. It will disappear after a while. I''ve never had to create a world before; I''ve only kept the memories of those I''ve reaped."


    That reminds me of what Sun said, that soul wanderers used to experience the soul''s memories by the help of soul dust. It had become rarer as time passed. When we came here there had been a line for the creatures, while our entry hadn''t had a single soul wanderer, maybe it was because it was so close to closing down for the night. Nine is likely one of the few who still visits the hall to experience the memories of those he has reaped.


    I look at his arms, I cannot see his scars when he has them positioned that way.


    "Your area, it was suicide?"


    It sounds more like a question than I had intended.


    "Yes."


    "Is it not painful to see those memories? Sun told me you cannot choose what memories you''ll see."


    "I''ve gotten used to it. Besides, the chance to see something else is bigger. Not every memory is a painful one. Not even for us."


    I have a feeling us isn''t about soul wanderers. I look back at the doll in my hand. The cold still hangs around my body like a tangible mist.


    "Is it true what they say about you?"


    I tighten the grip around the doll.


    "What do they say about me?"


    He doesn''t sound very interested.


    I hesitate. "That you don''t use the Stormcoin."


    All I can hear is the water from the wet doll dripping into the pool.


    "It''s true."


    "Why?"


    "Because there is no point. It''s different from accidents or sickness, where they have no control over it."


    I swallow. I don''t like where this is going.


    "In my experience the Stormcoin doesn''t make any difference. I or another soul wanderer will still reap their soul eventually. All I''m doing is prolonging the inevitable."


    He speaks more harshly than he usually does.


    "You don''t know that."


    I think of Emma. Before the car accident I knew there was a chance that she would walk that road, I''m scared that Nine or someone else with the same thought process would come to reap her soul, not giving her a chance of survival.


    Nine leaves his place at the fence. "I speak of experience, Orchid. I have tried."


    He walks past one of the openings and steps inside the pool. The jeans darken as his legs sink into the water.


    "We''re not here to talk about this, nor do we have time. Do you know what to do next?"


    He takes a few steps until he''s standing in the middle of the pool. I open my hand; I''ve held the cloth doll too tightly and it has ended up wrinkly.


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    "Not really," I say.


    "Drop the doll into the water."


    I do as he says and stare at it as it floats above the surface.


    "Close your eyes and think of the portrait you had seen in the book; the rest should happen by itself as long as you have the intent clear."


    Not that different from anything else here. But I keep those thoughts to myself.


    I close my eyes and think of the woman. The red hair, the freckles, the eager green eyes. The coldness breaches my skin and continues far into my soul. I take a deep, desperate breath before falling backwards.


    It blackens. A void lay in my chest, everything fully covered in darkness. Until I feel it ¨C someone else''s presence inside of me. Hidden and forgotten. Dead.


    It''s unfair. She cannot stop crying. She''s sitting on the staircase second step; her hands are pushed against the wet cheeks. She can barely breathe between the sobs.


    "It''s unfair!" she screams and moves her hands away from her face.


    Mother is sitting in front of her, even her cheeks are wet. The green eyes that usually warm and joyful are filled with sorrow. It hurts even more to look at her.


    Mother dries her tears with her thumbs.


    "My little darling. I want you to know that it''s okay to cry. Zeus is in a better place now. He had to leave us, but it''s important to remember the good times he gave us."


    Mother pulls her into her embrace, and strokes her hair gently, the other hand she keeps on her daughter''s back.


    They''re here with us in such a short time, but they give us so much. You''ll always carry him here," she says and pulls away from the hug; she gently pats her chest, "in your heart."


    It feels like I''m floating on top of the water, following a gentle stream, or like the wind is carrying my wings over the darken sky. I''m looking for something and when I finally find it, I can feel the presence again.


    She''s sitting on the sofa on her father''s office, watching him while he''s carefully sewing across the cloth. He is making the dress for the doll she has already planned the background of ¨C Princess Monique, the crown princess of France.


    She jumps up from the sofa and walks over to her father with perky, quick steps. She carries a large smile, one that she always has whenever her father lets her stay in his office as he works on his newest sewing projects.


    Father picks up the doll in his hands and moves her around to make sure everything looks like he wants it to.


    "Her name will be Monique," she says when she looks at the cloth doll with the red hair ¨C red like hers. "She''s the crown princess of France."


    "A princess, huh? Then she will need a tiara," father says and reaches for the yarn.


    She gives him a hug and continues to jump of glee at the thought of her new doll. Father coughs a few times, and gently pats her head when he lays down the yarn on the desk, next to the almost finished cloth doll.


    It''s a bittersweet memory, one that leaves an anxious feeling in my stomach before I continue on my hunt for the last memory.


    She sneaks into Allie''s room with the doll Monique in her hand. Allie sits on the bed with the blanket pulled up to her chin, with a book in front of her.


    "What is that, mom?" Allie asks as she stares at the doll in her hands.


    She walks to the bed and sits down. Monique has seen better days, yet she had almost been able to make her look as new as when father had first made her, all those years ago.


    "Monique," she says and puts the cloth doll on her knee. "Grandpa made her for me when I was a child."


    "Grandpa made it?" Allie asks and the eyes widens when she reaches out her small hands towards the doll, she carefully lifts it.


    "She''s cute. Is she a princess?" Allie asks and touches the yarn-tiara gently.


    "She is," she says and smiles. "I named her Monique. She was supposed to be a princess of France."


    "Can I have her?"


    She nods and leans forward to plant a kiss on her daughter''s forehead.


    I open my eyes and realize I''m under water. The panic takes over and I flail around. A steady hand touches my back and pushes me up, I cough up water the moment my head is above the surface.


    "You''re alright. You''re not drowning."


    I cough a few more times, until I realize Nine is kneeing besides me in the pool. The striped shirt has become wet, as well as parts of the blonde hair.


    "You could have warned me I''d literally be under water."


    "I''m sorry, I didn''t think it would make a difference. It cannot hurt you." He removes his hand from my back. "It''s uncomfortable the first few times, but you get used to it."


    I pull back my wet hair. I can feel her inside of me, like I''m sharing my mind with someone else. If I focus I can hear a whisper, I cannot make out the words, but I know it''s Laura. Is she aware of what I have done and is it me she''s speaking to? I try to listen and distinguish the whispers. They''re so low and hard to understand that I cannot even make out what language it is.


    "Orchid?"


    The sudden clear voice startles me.


    "Huh?"


    "They''re going to close soon; do you have everything you need?"


    "I think so. I keep hearing whispers. Is there something else I need to do to complete it?"


    Nine stands up in the pool. "No. She''ll be a part of you for a few weeks."


    The doll is floating above the water, I pick her up ¨C Monique ¨C and study the rosy face.


    "What should I do about the doll?"


    "You can keep her or throw her away. It''s a part of the Realm of the Dead now, it won''t disappear unless you want it to."


    I study the details in the doll. I can still see it clearly, Laura''s father sitting in his office sewing this little cloth doll with all the love he had for his daughter. I remember her love too, the one she had for her parents and the one for Allie. I feel it like it''s my own.


    I squeeze the doll lightly and a small smile settles on my lips. A real one - nothing I have to force.


    "I know a soul wanderer that keeps the belongings from the people she has shapeshifted into in her room. They won''t disappear from there."


    "Thank you. That sounds like a good idea."


    I raise from the pool, the water drips from my clothes and the cold hangs over me like frost.

 Chapter 31

    I place her in the bookcase. I line up the red hair, that is longer than the doll itself, with the stacked books next to her. In the pale world I hadn¡¯t cared about her. She had no value to me; she was an object that would help me give Allie a slightly less painful death. But after seeing the memories it felt like she had been a part of my life too.


    I¡¯ll keep her as a reminder of Laura. I know that a day will come when the doll means nothing to me, when I no longer have the inner peace that Laura shares. Yet, I can feel my emotions, they¡¯re stronger and easily take over unless I focus on Laura¡¯s.


    My clothes have already dried, but I have no desire to accompany Cerberus to the so-called theatre. I had accepted despite my better judgement. He wouldn¡¯t invite another Guardian¡¯s soul wanderer unless there was a real good reason behind it. He had told me he had questions. I¡¯m not sure what kind of answers he¡¯d want out of me, specially from someone who recently finished their apprenticeship. I hadn¡¯t reaped my first soul yet, not one that was my contract. The souls on the mountain didn¡¯t count, that was Clover¡¯s contracts, and I had still been his apprentice.


    I had accepted and therefore had no other choice but to show up. Cerberus might not have been a god, and not as powerful as I thought he was, but I¡¯d be foolish if I didn¡¯t keep my word.


    I knock on the white door I¡¯ve created. Once I¡¯ve opened it, I step into the whirling darkness. On the other side lays the familiar corridor I¡¯ve walked many times with Clover. I catch the gate stone in my hand and continue down the hall until I reach Wolf.


    ¡°Blomst?¡± He asks automatically.


    I shake my head. ¡°Cerberus¡¯ waiting hall.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to¡­ Cerberus?¡± Wolf asks. ¡°Unusual, unusual.¡±


    ¡±Why unusual?¡±


    ¡±Soul wanderers usually keep to their own guardians, except the older ones and a few exceptions of the younger. You¡¯re still a bit too young for that exception though.¡±


    Like Sun. She seemed familiar with both Blomst and First even though she is Saturn¡¯s soul wanderer.


    ¡°Something came up,¡± I say.


    Wolf remains in his place for a brief moment before he takes a step back and points a bony finger at the gate.


    ¡°I am just the gate keeper, not nearly as important as the guardians and¡­¡± He sighs. ¡°What I am trying to say is that you mind your own business, of course, but be careful.¡±


    There are traces of worry in his voice. I force a small smile. Before I can reach the gate Wolf takes two steps forward and blocks my path.


    ¡°I¡­ I have helped you before. With¡­ the writing. So, I shall give you a warning. The guardians can be possessive,¡± he carefully looks around, ¡°and lately they¡¯ve had quite a lot to deal with, which has made them¡­ irritable.¡±


    I could go back to my room, and if Cerberus asked why I didn¡¯t show up I could have blamed it on Wolf¡¯s warning. But that could put Wolf in trouble with the guardians and that is the last thing I want.


    ¡°Thank you for the warning, but Cerberus asked me to visit his office. As much as I¡¯d like to just go back, I don¡¯t think I have a choice in the matter.¡±


    Wolf takes a few steps back. ¡°I understand, I understand. In the future, it would be best if you¡¯re careful what guardians you¡­ uhm, spend time with. But if it¡¯s important¡­¡±


    He smiles, it¡¯s not as strong as the previous times I¡¯ve felt it.


    ¡°Thank you, Wolf.¡±


    I knock and the hatch opens up and pushes out a white paper with the number seven written on it.


    The waiting room is not what I had expected. Since I had only seen Cerberus dressed in mostly white, I had expected a hall with white walls and floor. Instead, every millimeter ¨C except the white chairs ¨C are covered in complex murals and paintings. At first, I think they¡¯re the ones I saw in Arkaros, but I quickly realize that the murals are mostly of legends, myths, and religion from the living world. I see, among other things, the crucifixion of Jesus, Odin and his ravens, and the three-headed dog Cerberus depicted on the walls, ceiling, and floor.


    I don¡¯t have time to even sit down before the white stone above the large gate turns to a seven. The soul wanderers waiting doesn¡¯t seem to mind that someone that just arrived gets called before them. Once I approach, the door opens by itself.


    Cerberus is seated behind a desk. His hair is let down and no longer pulled back, nor is he wearing the same clothes I had seen him wear in Arkaros.


    ¡°Orchid,¡± he greets me and turn the pages of the book in front of him, ¡°you¡¯ll have to excuse me. Seems like I need one more minute.¡±


    His entire room is filled with bookcases, more than what Saturn¡¯s room had. My first thought is that they are either strange, magical books that I wouldn¡¯t understand even if I tried or that they¡¯re simply decorations. When I approach one of the bookcases, I can read the titles. Some of them are religious books, other about legends and myths. But what surprises me the most is all the literature. I scan the titles over the many books. I am a Cat, Pride and Prejudice, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and To Kill Mockingbird are a few of them. I pull a book ¨C The Old Man and the Sea ¨C out of the bookcase. I open it to make sure it¡¯s an actual book, and to my surprise, it is.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll be able to finish a whole book, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be done before that,¡± he jokes and turn the pages.


    I place it back and study the rest of them in the bookcase, all of them seem well-read. Cerberus closes the book he¡¯s reading, and on the front there¡¯s no title.


    ¡°I¡¯m done,¡± he says with a smile. ¡°The theatre is already open. I can create a gate for you.¡±


    ¡°You know what?¡± I touch one of the books¡¯ spines. ¡°For someone who doesn¡¯t like the living world much, you have a surprising number of books from it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t dislike your world.¡±


    I pull my hand away from the bookcase. Cerberus remains behind the desk with a hand over the book with no title. He looks a tad insulted that I had the gall to suggest such a thing.


    ¡°No?¡± I lean my shoulder against the bookcase. ¡°It certainly sounded like you didn¡¯t have any warm thoughts of my world when we spoke at the well.¡±


    He frowns and tenses his jaw.


    ¡°You called it impersonalized. And cold¡­ if I remember correctly,¡± I continue and smile.


    ¡°In many cases the human world is impersonalized and cold. It¡¯s¡­ stuck. It doesn¡¯t change by your presence.¡±


    I cross my arms. ¡±We can build houses, cities. Through time we have created a whole new world, new technology. How can you tell me it¡¯s not a world that changes?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not the same thing. It¡¯s a process, there¡¯s so many things that are needed to make changes. Here I simply need to think about it, and sometimes the worlds change without my influence.¡±


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    I haven¡¯t noticed it. If I could change the Eleven, I would have done it right away. Maybe it¡¯s just a guardian thing.


    ¡°Well, it sounds like you don¡¯t care that much about my world.¡±


    Cerberus raises from his chair and approaches me, his face as softened while his eyes sweep over the books.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like how impersonal your worlds are, how it doesn¡¯t change like mine does. But that doesn¡¯t mean I cannot see the positives.¡±


    ¡°And that is¡­ books?¡± I ask.


    ¡±Not the vessel itself. I¡¯m impressed with the content, what you can create from nothing. How you can create worlds you¡¯ve never seen, stories that has never happened, things you¡¯ve never experienced. I¡¯ve read thousands of books, but each time I try to create something I¡¯ve never seen I can never get close to what you¡¯ve created. I can only create what I¡¯ve seen, or things that are similar.¡±


    Cerberus picks a book from the bookcase and touches its front carefully. I watch him quietly as he tries to gather his thoughts.


    ¡°It began with an interest for your religions and legends. Then I started reading your fictional literature, I realized that while your world is impersonal, the humans aren¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°It sounds to me you¡¯re more interested in humans and not our world.¡±


    Cerberus puts the book back.


    ¡°Your world is part of you. But yes, I¡¯m interested in humans. Envious even.¡±


    Did I hear him correctly? It¡¯s a frightening thought that he ¨C a guardian of the Realm of the Dead ¨C would be envious of humans.


    ¡°I cannot imagine why.¡±


    He smiles, but it looks a lot sadder than I¡¯m used to. It reminds me of the one I had seen at the well.


    ¡°It has interested me for a long time. What it means to be a human. To have a destiny, how you think, how you look at things, how it¡¯s like to feel like a human.¡± He takes a deep breath. ¡°It¡¯s things I¡¯ll never understand, no matter how much I read your books. Maybe it¡¯s a pitiful attempt to understand you, why you prefer your worlds over ours.¡±


    I feel sorry for him as he gently strokes his own hand, hoping he¡¯ll feel it, not with the electric tickling sensation, but to feel it as a human would.


    He lets his arms fall to his sides and gives me a warm smile.


    ¡°Shall we go? Arkaros is waiting.¡±


    ¡±Alright, I¡¯m ready.¡±


    A white door forms into existence on one of the bare walls. It would have looked similar to mine if it wasn¡¯t for the larger size and lack of an orchid made of orange crystalized veins. The surface of the door is also home to carved quotes from books, all of them written in their original language. I see Swedish, English, French, Japanese and many others. A few I recognize, most I cannot.


    Cerberus opens the door and returns to his place behind the desk.


    ¡°You¡¯re not coming? I thought you were done.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m already there,¡± he says.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡±I¡¯m in multiple places at the same time ¨C five currently if you don¡¯t count the offices. As a guardian we¡¯d not be able to leave our office if we did not have the ability to be in several places at once.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡±


    He laughs and leans over the desk with clasped hands under his chin.


    ¡°Alas, there cannot be multiple versions of me in the same place, so you¡¯ll have to settle for one Cerberus,¡± he jokes. ¡°I¡¯m waiting outside of the doorways in Arkaros.¡±


    He places the book to the side and picks out a new one from a pile, they¡¯re placed in a neat, perfected fashion. It doesn¡¯t have a title like the other one and when he opens it, it¡¯s empty. Cerberus single eye follow the page as he reads something I cannot see.


    When I go through the door I end up in the corridor of doors again ¨C where the only gate to Arkaros is located. I¡¯m not there for long, I walk up the short stairs and touch the symbol like Sun did, once they lit up I open the door. To my surprise, it¡¯s no longer a white whirling light. It¡¯s dark blue ¨C almost black ¨C with stars shining brightly.


    On the other side Cerberus is waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He¡¯s still dressed in the clothes I had seen him wear in the Citadel¡¯s gardens.


    The second thing I notice is the sky. It¡¯s no longer touched by colors of orange and pink, instead it¡¯s dark with thousands of stars. Patterns of colors ¨C that looks like northern lights ¨C covers large parts of the night sky.


    I stare up at the masterpiece of colors, darkness, and light.


    ¡°It¡¯s quite the sight, isn¡¯t it?¡± he asks when I finally descend the stairs, he keeps his eye focused on the sky above us.


    It looks closer than a regular night sky. It reminds me of Saturn¡¯s room, where you could see space outside of the large window. But here I see no planets or galaxies. I got a feeling that if I¡¯d look down, I¡¯d still see the night sky below us with its thousands, maybe millions, of stars.


    I move my gaze to the gigantic gates, the bridge is filled by soul wanderers and more come out from the doors behind me. The gates are wide-open, and gargoyles sits on the bridge¡¯s fence, each with a spear in their hands of stone.


    I move closer to Cerberus as more soul wanderers push past me.


    ¡°Shall we go?¡± he asks.


    We push our way into the dense crowd. I keep my focus on the frightening statues on the fence. They slowly turn their grotesque faces and their eyes glimmers each time it studies a soul wanderer. I tense my shoulders and back as they look at me for a couple of seconds, then move their faces slowly to the next person.


    ¡°It¡¯s an important night and they¡¯re here to protect us. To make sure no uninvited guest will sneak by.¡±


    He must have noticed how I couldn¡¯t keep my eyes away from the grotesque statues.


    ¡°And what happens if someone in the crowd is¡­ uninvited?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t hesitate with his answer, ¡°you wouldn¡¯t notice. No one except the uninvited guest would. Not this time. Like I mentioned ¨C it¡¯s an important night. We don¡¯t want to cause an incident.¡±


    ¡°And the theater, is it far?¡±


    ¡°A bit yes, but there is a shortcut I¡¯ll take you through. It should go faster, nor will we have to deal with the crowd.¡±


    I look at the people, there¡¯s soul wanderers from many different countries, as well as decades and centuries. I can see everything from an eighty¡¯s rocker to a queen from the 1700¡¯s. I lose sight of both of them quickly in this crowd.


    Once we pass the gate, Cerberus leads me up a small hidden staircase, and through a garden with light blue flowers that reminds me of gigantic blue bells. Inside of them floats shining orbs, it makes the flowers lit up the garden in the dark night. A small gravel path leads us to another staircase. Below lays a turquoise lake formed as a perfect circle and in the middle stands a building on a platform. It reminds me of the ones from the Roman Empire, with large pillars covering all sides I can see. Four bridges from each side stretch out towards the mainland. The one closest to the stairs is narrower than the other three, and it¡¯s the only one that has a roof.


    ¡°The greenery¡¯s bridge is usually not open for soul wanderer, but I¡¯ll make an exception today,¡± he says like it wasn¡¯t his idea to take his route, but the smile on his lips suggests that he¡¯s trying to joke.


    I follow him to the white bridge. When we enter it, it¡¯s more like a dark tunnel of metal and greenery. Small, white marble-looking orbs press against the tendrils and illuminate the tunnel in a dim light. Sometimes we pass small openings where you can see out over the lake and the city, as well as the night sky and its stars.


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know when we can speak.¡±


    His back look more tense the closer we get to the end of the tunnel.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I mumble as I try to get a better view of the lake.


    ¡°And before that it¡¯s better we don¡¯t speak at all.¡±


    We had barely spoken since Cerberus led us up the hidden stairs, and I haven¡¯t planned to say anything until I know I can ask the questions on my mind, some I¡¯m likely not supposed to know. Maybe that¡¯s what Cerberus means, no matter what he is planning to ask me he doesn¡¯t want an audience either. Which means it is likely something the other guardians would be against. Not that I think he¡¯ll ask something that breaks the rules, at least nothing that could be classified as treason. Yet this entire situation leaves me with a worrying feeling.


    The roof and walls of greenery ends and we stand in front of the theater. It looks bigger from here.


    ¡°This way,¡± he speaks lowly and gives me a cautionary glance.


    I say nothing as he leads me to the backside of the building. Just like the citadel, it¡¯s corridor after corridor until we finally reach a doorway Cerberus stops at. In front of us lies a large theater hall with wooden and red seats. The stage is surrounded by water, it looks like it¡¯s being held by an invisible glass cylinder.


    ¡°What is this?¡± I ask.


    I bite my tongue when I realize he asked me to not speak.


    ¡°You can enter it,¡± he says and points. ¡°I¡¯ll explain things later.¡±


    Once I¡¯ve approached the stage, I carefully place my hand to the water, it moves against my skin and follows the shape of my fingers and palm. When I pull away it¡¯s still wet. I take a deep breath as I enter. The water surrounds me, it moves my skirt and hair as I slowly tread forward. I don¡¯t need to hold my breath; I breathe the water into my lungs. But I feel no burning feeling in my chest nor nose.


    Cerberus has walked past the threshold of the water cylinder. The dreadlocks move in the water.


    I continue up the stairs, each step feels like I¡¯m truly under water. Cerberus follows me until we¡¯re both standing on the stage and look out at the empty red chairs in the theater hall.


    ¡°I usually create scenes from books I¡¯ve read,¡± Cerberus says; his voice sounds clear. ¡°Could you create something from nothing?¡±


    There¡¯s an eagerness in his eyes, like he¡¯s expecting me to create something fantastic.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been good at coming up with ideas. You¡¯ll be disappointed.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to be anything complex. Just something I¡¯ve never seen before.¡±


    Like that would be easier. I tense up as a selfish, desperate thought comes to mind. One I highly doubt Cerberus will let me experience. Yet I want to ask.


    ¡°Could I create a scene from one of my own memories?¡± I don¡¯t sound unsure when asking the question, like I have nothing to be ashamed of.


    It takes a while for Cerberus to answer, like he¡¯s carefully thinking through his options. ¡°I¡¯ll allow one memory.¡±


    I open my mouth slightly and relax my face while the rest of my body tenses up. I can feel the tears building up in my eyes despite the water surrounding us, I try to not pay any attention to it.


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Close your eyes and think of the memory, how it looks like, and what happened.¡±


    I close my eyes and think.

 Chapter 32

    I thought I¡¯d think of a memory with Emma, a time when she was smiling more and wasn¡¯t locking herself inside her apartment, pretending that the rest of the world didn¡¯t exist outside of the front door.


    But I thought of dad. When he sat us down to tell us he had cancer.


    I had focused so much on him that the rest of the people in the living room are black shadows. Not even I am clear, only a shadow that sits with the others in the sofa.


    He¡¯s shining brightly. I remember most things about him. And the parts that I no longer remember is covered in a thick oil, deep enough that I cannot even think of what could be hiding beyond it. It¡¯s the same black oil that Laura had been covered in when I visited her world.


    Me and Cerberus are standing in front of the living room¡¯s threshold. Dad is sitting in the arm chair, leaning forward with a hard grip around his hands to the point they¡¯re turning white. He never had a difficult time to accept death, it was what he left behind that worried him.


    ¡°How long?¡± says one of the shadows, I think it¡¯s Emma.


    The voices sound static, like they¡¯re not really there.


    The silence that comes after, makes me feel the same anxiety I remember feeling when he told us.


    ¡°Half a year. Maybe a year.¡±


    When I hear how robotic and hollow my dad¡¯s voice sounds like I have to bite my tongue to not react. I should have realized I wouldn¡¯t recognize his voice when we¡¯ve been dead for so long.


    I listen to the conversation between my dad and the shadows until the scene stops. He¡¯s stuck. Immobile. Like I¡¯ve paused a recording. He¡¯s on his way up from the armchair, with one hand gripped tightly around the armrest.


    ¡°Why did you choose this memory?¡± Cerberus asks.


    I cannot figure out what the tone in his voice means.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. It was the first thought that came up.¡±


    ¡°I was expecting you to choose a more positive memory when you had the choice. You can choose another one if you¡¯d¡­¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I interrupt, ¡°there¡¯s no need.¡±


    The look he gives me makes me feel like he¡¯s pitying me.


    I take a deep breath. ¡°Is it safe to talk here?¡±


    ¡°Yes, let me take us to another scene.¡±


    I don¡¯t say anything even if I want to remain here. I try to remember each detail of dad before everything goes black.


    It takes a few seconds before we arrive in the next scene. We¡¯re at the top of a tall tower looking out over the gigantic city with light blue and turquoise buildings, the architecture reminds me of the famous buildings in Saint Petersburg and Moskva in Russia. Beyond the city lays landscape with green hills and overly large trees, in the distance I can see a snow-covered mountain chain.


    I walk closer to the fence surrounding the tower. ¡°Which book is this from?¡±


    ¡°None.¡± He stands next to me. ¡°It¡¯s a memory.¡±


    A man stands on the other side of the tower. I can only see the back of his head and back. He has the same black dreadlocks ¨C but shorter ¨C as Cerberus.


    ¡°You showed me a very personal memory, Orchid.¡± He smiles. ¡°So, I¡¯ll show you this, one of the most important memories I still hold dear.¡±


    I look out at the city. ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°My home.¡±


    ¡°And where is that?¡±


    This place is not Arkaros. Not the Realm of the Dead¡¯s capital.


    ¡°That I cannot answer. But no matter where it¡¯s located, it doesn¡¯t look like this anymore.¡±


    ¡°What happened to it?¡±


    ¡±I cannot answer that either.¡±


    He leans towards the fence. ¡°We¡¯re safe here. We can talk about anything. No one is listening.¡±


    I hesitate. ¡±If so, what¡¯s stopping you from telling me what happened to this world?¡±


    He¡¯s not smiling anymore. ¡°There are things I can say but shouldn¡¯t. Then there are things like these. If I share these secrets with you, it¡¯s very likely it would be seen as treason. I¡¯m ready to share a lot with you to make sure I have what I need, but I cannot do what you¡¯re asking me.¡± He moves his gaze to the city once again. ¡°No, even if it hadn¡¯t been treason¡­ there are things you just don¡¯t speak of.¡±


    I don¡¯t like that he brought me here, it feels wrong even if it¡¯s just a memory.


    ¡°So what can you tell me then?¡±


    ¡°You told me you thought we were gods,¡± he says and for a while it sounds like he¡¯ll continue, but he simply ends up furrowing his brow in frustration.


    ¡°And you told me you weren¡¯t. Yet you didn¡¯t want to explain what you were. Have you changed your mind?¡±


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    ¡°No. I haven¡¯t.¡± He hesitates. ¡°A god¡­ they exist without purpose ¨C they have always existed. A guardian has a purpose, it¡¯s to lead and protect. To rule. We were created especially for this purpose.¡±


    ¡°What created you?¡±


    He avoids my eyes by looking out at the view once again.


    ¡°Another question you cannot answer?¡±


    He nods.


    ¡°Are we¡­ are humans created by something?¡± It¡¯s hard to phrase it, even if it¡¯s such a simple question. One that worries me to my core.


    ¡°Before I answer your question, I need a promise from you. When I ask you my questions, you cannot lie. You cannot withhold information. You¡¯ll have to tell me everything you know, even if you think it might not be of importance.¡±


    ¡°I cannot agree to anything when I don¡¯t even know what you want to ask me.¡±


    ¡°Clover,¡± he answers without hesitation, ¡°my questions are about Clover.¡±


    Somehow, I¡¯m not surprised. Not after what happened in the Oak¡¯s tallest tree. It wasn¡¯t just me and Artemis that noticed Clover clearly was withholding something. At the same time, I¡¯m terrified. I don¡¯t want to create any more problems for Clover, even if he has avoided him since I pressured him for answers. Maybe it would be for the best if I asked Cerberus to take me back to the theater hall, but I convince myself there¡¯s nothing evil in his face, nothing that tells me that he¡¯ll hurt him.


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    He gives me a thankful smile, yet I feel dirty.


    ¡°The answer to your question is more complicated than a yes or no, and I only have half of the answer. Your vessel, the human body I know nothing of. Despite my interest in you, I have little knowledge of your world or how it was created. But this,¡± he pushes a finger against my forehead, ¡°has not always existed in your vessels.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    He pulls back his hand. ¡°Your vessels existed long before your souls. The question for your answer is ¨C yes, this part of you is created. But I cannot speak of the physical human body.¡±


    ¡°What created us?¡± I ask; the words are heavy, almost incomprehensible on my lips.


    ¡°The same entity that created me. More I cannot say.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ why? What was the purpose of our existence?¡±


    When only silence accompany us, I realize it¡¯s another question he cannot answer. I slide down on the floor and focus on the man who cannot be anyone else but young Cerberus. He¡¯s still having his back towards us, but he¡¯s moving. Not immobile. The scene is still playing.


    Cerberus observes his former self. ¡°We don¡¯t have a lot of time left.¡±


    I can barely believe it. I was created by something, not my body but my soul. After I arrived in the Realm of the Dead, I had realized something had to exist. I had thought that the guardians might have been gods. But this is something else completely. I belong here and was sent out to a place that has nothing to do with me. I was created here ¨C not in the living world.


    But why? What was the point of creating us to live inside of something foreign that didn¡¯t even belong to this place?


    ¡°Ask you questions,¡± I answer, unsure I¡¯ll even be able to gather my thoughts.


    ¡°You have to be honest with me, Orchid.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± My voice breaks. ¡°Ask.¡±


    Cerberus sits down beside me. I have no desire to even look at him at this point.


    ¡°Clover is suspected to be involved in the theft that happened in Arkaros.¡±


    I¡¯m surprised of how open he is about it. The last time I and Clover had asked about the theft, they had told us we had nothing to do with it. Yet, now he gave me the information without a slight hesitation that it could be a bad idea. Was he that desperate to gain any possible information that he ignored the very possible danger in telling me all this? What surprised me the most is that I¡¯m not shocked by what he¡¯s saying.


    ¡°I thought you suspected the fractured ones,¡± I say and pull my sleeve; I still don¡¯t want to look at him.


    ¡°We did to a beginning. We thought he was cooperating with them. But we couldn¡¯t admit our suspicions about him, not without evidence. So we focused on the fractured ones.¡±


    They had already suspected him when they interrogated us, and I hadn¡¯t had a single clue.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why you think I¡¯d know something,¡± I say but I must have not sounded convincing enough.


    ¡°It¡¯s important that you¡¯re honest with me, Orchid.¡±


    I bite the side of my underlip. ¡°What did he steal? It¡¯s important for me to know.¡±


    This time Cerberus hesitates but gives in and tells me what I need to know, ¡°he stole one of the four artifacts, see it as a key to a lock with multiple keys. He cannot open the door with only one of them, but there is nothing stopping him from finding the others.¡±


    ¡°What is he trying to open?¡±


    ¡°A gate that has been closed for a very long time. One that we should keep closed until it¡¯s ready to be opened.¡±


    I look at him this time, and it looks like there¡¯s a liquid in the iris this close up.


    ¡°And what happens if he does open it?¡±


    ¡°Nothing good. Chilly roses will be the last our problems. It¡¯s locked for a reason.¡±


    I cannot imagine that Clover would open a gate that would hurt us, not after I¡¯ve watched him reap. He had made sure that no souls would end up stuck as a specter or a wraith. It made no sense.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t sound like Clover.¡±


    Cerberus gives me a sympathetic smile that doesn¡¯t reach his eye. ¡°I know and that¡¯s what¡¯s worrying. Maybe Clover believes he can lock the gate once he has what he wants, but when it has been opened it cannot be closed. Not by us.¡±


    I focus on the hands in my lap. ¡°Are you sure it was Clover?¡±


    ¡°I have my reasons why I believe he¡¯s involved. First agrees with me for the first time in a long time. But both Blomst and Vrana are sure we¡¯re wrong. Blomst is too blinded by her love, she has too much history with Clover to even think he¡¯d betray us. Vrana says he believes it¡¯s only the fractured ones, and that we do our soul wanderers a disservice if we start to suspect every single action they take.¡±


    I cannot force a single sound out of my mouth and in Cerberus¡¯ eye I can see desperation.


    ¡°If you have something, anything. It doesn¡¯t matter how small it is, you need to tell me. It is important. If he is innocent you have nothing to worry about. But if he stole the artifact, and if he finds the other keys, nothing good will come out of it.¡±


    I turn away my gaze. I had truly planned on telling Cerberus what he asked about. I want to tell him Rampion saw him at the well, but I cannot. I know I cannot fully lie either, that would be too easy to see through.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t noticed a lot,¡± I begin carefully and hold my wrist tightly, ¡°but he has seemed stressed and worried about something.¡±


    I¡¯m thankful he didn¡¯t take me to the well, then my voice would have broken and the parts of the truth I try to keep away would come forward.


    ¡°Do you know what he¡¯s worried about?¡±


    I shake my head.


    ¡±Is this all you know?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I haven¡¯t noticed anything else,¡± I lie.


    I¡¯m stuck in the middle of two people. I want to tell the truth, but I cannot.


    ¡°I understand.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t sound satisfied with my answers.


    ¡°Cerberus,¡± I begin carefully, ¡°if Clover is the thief, do me a favor and find out why. He might have a good reason.¡±


    It¡¯s a fragile attempt to convince Cerberus to not be too hard on Clover if he did steal the artifact.


    Cerberus quickly turn his head when Blomst comes up from the stairs. The brown hair is braided with white flowers. She wears a beautiful, but innocent smile as she approaches the younger Cerberus. He turns around and he doesn¡¯t look like he does today. There¡¯s no scar, and instead of one single blue, gleaming eye there¡¯s two dark brown ones.


    ¡°Cerberus, he¡¯s waiting for you,¡± she speaks. She sounds a lot younger, and more na?ve than she does today.


    ¡°We need to leave,¡± says Cerberus ¨C the one who I came here with.


    He firmly grips my arm and the scene in front of us fills with water, and in a blink of an eye we¡¯re standing on the stage in the empty theater hall.


    ¡°What has been said will be between us. I promise you that.¡±


    It¡¯s as much as a warning as a reassurance.

 ACT 3: Chapter 33

    When I woke up this morning I felt filthy. I''m not proud of the lies I''ve sown. I know it was important for him to receive all the details, but I couldn''t. I wish Sun never had asked me about Clover, then I could have played unknowing and unaffected. I know it was wrong. That I put myself in danger when I didn''t speak the truth, like I had promised. I try to convince myself that the thief cannot be Clover and that I don''t have to worry about protecting the wrong person.


    I stare at the photographs on the pinboard. A thick black color covers parts of dad''s and Emma''s faces, the same oil-like liquid I had seen on him in the theater. I attempt to wipe it away, and while it leaves coal-black stains on my fingertips the photographs are unchanged. It''s just as stained as before.


    I lean back on the chair and think of my name. I don''t remember what the reflection had said ¨C what my last name was ¨C just that it had mentioned it. I know that I used to be Jonna. The name feels far away, like it''s about to fall into the black oil and be forgotten. I''m wondering if I should say my name, but I cannot even think of how to form my lips to get the right sound. Maybe I could write it, but my fingers feel dreadfully heavy.


    I lay my head on the desk, so one of my cheeks are pressed to the surface. I don''t want to leave, nor do I want to see the well in the distance. What was Clover doing there? Why didn''t he want anyone to see him? And Cerberus had met that creature at the well, exchanged the mirror with something else. The same object the creature had offered me if I made a deal with it.


    I know what I''m about to do is foolish. Clover had warned me. It''s not safe.


    ***


    I push past creatures and soul wanderers. My entire body is tensing up at the thought of what I''m doing. Clover had warned me, told me to never go into a deal with this creature and now that was exactly what I was planning. I''ve must have lost all of my sanity when I arrived in the Realm of the Dead. Idiotic choices upon even more idiotic choices. Have I made a single choice here that has led me to something good?


    I quickly find my way to the market stall I''ve been looking for and luckily ¨C or maybe it''s more unfortunate ¨C the grey creature is still there. The three white eyes move across the crowd and stops at me. It smiles with its dried mouth and from that moment I know that it has always known I''d come back.


    And I''m foolish enough to walk right into its trap.


    I try to not show my utter dislike for the creature. It looks too much like the librarians with the black veil over its head. However, it''s not wearing a terrifying darkness as a face, so I try to convince myself that it''s a good sign I can see its shape, no matter how vile it might look.


    "So you did return," it says with its awful voice; I fight the urge to shudder.


    I take a step closer to the market stall ¨C close enough that I''d be able to touch it if I reached out my hand.


    "What''s your name?" the creature asks and caresses one of the stones.


    "Orchid," I answer lowly.


    It feels wrong. I''m not sure how much power a name has in these places, what kind of damage it could cause.


    "And you''re not accompanied by the over-protective mentor today it seems. Which means you''re ready to make a deal with me, no?"


    "If you give me what I ask for."


    I have to make sure that the deal between us is clear and that I receive everything I ask for. Both Artemis and Clover had warned me, told me it could easily twist the truth enough that I didn''t know what I was agreeing to.


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    The creature''s grin dies out a little.


    "Let''s speak of this in a place where hundreds of ears aren''t listening."


    It moves it hand over its goods and they disappear.


    It stares at me intensely under the transparent black veil. "This way, Orchid."


    I follow it behind the market stall and continue until we reach a door of dark wood. Its height is shorter than the doors I''ve created, besides, it''s missing a handle.


    The creature carefully pushes the door open. When we enter it, I have to bend down not to hit my head. We step into a small, round cottage. The ceiling is low, but tall enough that I don''t have to bend down inside. A fire with a cauldron stands in a corner, right next to it is a round table with two chairs. There''s a bed under a window that looks out over a meadow of dark blue glistening grass - which means that no matter where the door took us, we are still in the eleven. It amazes me how human it looks, it could be in a soul wanderer''s room if it weren''t for the view.


    The creature sits down on one of the chairs. "Sit down, would you? It''s more comfortable that way."


    I''m not sure anything could make me feel comfortable in this situation, but I do as I''m told. I try to ignore the three eyes that seems to follow every move I make.


    It drags its unkept nails across the back of its hand. "What exactly do you want? I offered you the mirror I gave the guardian, it sounds like you want more."


    Another grin that makes my body tense up.


    "I want what you gave Cerberus. I also need information."


    "Information?" the creature asks with curiosity in its voice. "What kind of information are you looking for?"


    "About Clover."


    The creature raises the area above its eyes. "Your mentor?"


    "Yes."


    "I see. I cannot give you any information you''d like. You''ll need to be more specific."


    "I want to know what he did at the well."


    It grins. "Expensive information. You see, I didn''t just give Cerberus the mirror. No, first and foremost, he was there for information. Which you have technically already asked for. You want everything I gave Cerberus. Yet, you ask for even more information. That makes my end of the deal more expensive."


    I clench my jaw and glare at the creature, but it just laughs. It knows it has the control. If I want to get anything out of this, I''ll need to play its games.


    "What are your demands?"


    My entire body is fighting against me, I just want to get up and leave this cursed building and never return back.


    "I have two demands." It gets up from the chair and moves towards the bed. "A favor from you when I ask about it. It can happen tomorrow, in a year or in a hundred."


    "How could I agree to something like that? I don''t even know what kind of favor it would be."


    The creature sits down on its knees and reach its malnourished, dry arm under the bed.


    "You''re asking for expensive information, soul wanderer. You decide how important it is. If it''s to any consolation, I''m not one to deal with any fading .You can trust that what I will ask of you will not have anything that can cause fading to you or me. At least not a fading caused by the Guardians," it says as it rises from the floor with its hand clenched around something. "There are many worlds that are dangerous, and I can''t promise they won''t destroy you."


    Can this creature feel how scared I am? Or how desperate?


    "It happens that my second demand show how dangerous the Realm can be."


    It places a round object on the table, one that I recognize well. The difference is that this one isn''t shining of orange and blue.


    "A Stormcoin?"


    "Exactly. A Stormcoin. Completely discharged. They''re useless when they''re like this."


    It pushes it closer to me, it looks and feels dead. Like it once had a soul but is currently as empty as a corpse.


    "What''s the demand?" I ask.


    Under the table I''m grasping my hands in panic.


    "A... friend has a very important object I want, but he refuses to sell it to me unless I help him with this. Thing is, the only way of charging this Stormcoin is through a world only accessible in the human world. I cannot go there. That''s why I need a soul wanderer. What I demand of you, is for you to finish my part of the deal. Once the coin is charged give it to him, and then come back with the object that will be rightfully mine. Once that is finished, I''ll give you your part of the deal. The information of both Clover and Cerberus, as well as the mirror. Those are my two demands."


    I stare at the empty Stormcoin in front of me. "What shall I do? How do I get to the world?"


    The creature places a red jewel on the table, it''s blood red with black cracks in its surface. "All you need to do is call this forth and he''ll find you. He''ll tell you everything you need to know."


    I grab the jewel with the black cracks.


    "Do we have a deal?" It asks.


    "Okay," I say even though I know it''s a foolish idea, "we got a deal."


    The creature grins largely. My chest stings like someone just grabbed my heart. I take a deep breath and suck in the air that tastes like ash and death. It''s a deal ¨C one that literally marked me.


    "Next time you''re in the human world I''m expecting you to contact him."


    "Al... Alright," I stammer as the pain throbs across my chest.


    "You can leave now," the creature says and makes a gesture with its grey hand.

 Chapter 34

    The photographs are covered in black oil. It runs down their faces. My toothless smile, Emma¡¯s eyes and her blonde curls are the only things visible, and the only things I can remember. I know my dad has the same blond, curly hair as Emma but it¡¯s hard to imagine him. I can only see the pale skin.


    I pull my palm over it and the thick oil runs down my hand. It won¡¯t stop, it continues to pour down like black, thick tears. It never ends. I quickly try to wipe my hands off on the pinboard.


    I turn my palms upwards. They¡¯re covered in black stains that reminds me of Clover¡¯s hand. They¡¯re shaking uncontrollably, and I breathe in deeply to calm my rushing thoughts.


    It¡¯s not the only thing I¡¯ve forgotten. I can no longer remember my name. There¡¯s not a single trace left. I don¡¯t know if it was a long or short name, or what letter it started with.


    I pick up the photographs from the pinboard and tear them to pieces. Once I¡¯m done I throw them in the trashcan. My hands are marked; covered in a thick layer of the black oil. I try to wipe them off on my clothes, leaving oily stains.


    I open the notebook and turn the pages. Most of them are covered  in the same black oil. Or maybe it¡¯s ink. I had spent hours ¨C days writing down names in these notebooks, and now all those names are covered in that oil. Emma is the only name I remember. Yet I know I¡¯ll forget that too one day. Like I¡¯ve forgotten everyone else¡¯s.


    I push my hands against my face and a frustrated sound escapes my mouth. I knew I would forget everything, that the notebooks were only there to slow down the process, yet everything still feels like a waste of time.


    I stare out at the garden that lies behind the closed window. I have to calm myself, shut all these feelings out so I can reap Allie¡¯s soul without falling apart. The Stormcoin must also be charged. I cannot be this fragile then.


    I look for the calmness inside me. The one that belongs to Laura and when I¡¯ve found it I cling onto it.


    ***


    I can hear her in my mind. Sometimes the whispers sound friendly, and other times there is pain and sorrow. Sometimes frustration. At first, I thought she was talking to me, now I believe it¡¯s memories. Maybe she¡¯s not even aware that she¡¯s dead and has been for twenty years. That she¡¯s only existing in my mind and in the memories that are still living on. Whatever is inside of me it doesn¡¯t feel complete. Like something is missing, or that I only have fragments of what once was.


    I squeeze the gate stone in my hand and make myself ready. First of all, I¡¯ll need to reap Allie¡¯s soul as Laura. I¡¯ll need to shapeshift. The second, which I¡¯m most nervous of, is the deal with the creature and him. The man ¨C or the creature ¨C that I¡¯m doing this for. I¡¯m not even sure what I should be expecting in this world, and all I can think of is how dangerous it might be.


    The nurses walk straight through me and speaks in their muffled, unintelligible language. I squeeze the gate stone once more before I make it disappear from my hand.


    I stop at her door, close my eyes and imagine Laura in my mind. I think of the whispers and what I¡¯ve seen in the memories.


    All the memories that flood in feels like my own. Like I was the one who went through everything, and that the woman on the other side is my daughter. I¡¯m not sure where I begin and where Laura ends.


    I take a few steps back and attempt to steady my breathing. How could Rampion know which parts were him? And how was he somehow able to be himself?


    I walk through the door. I don¡¯t need to look at my hands to know that I am Laura. Allie is laying in the bed with open, hollow eyes. This time the man who held her hand isn¡¯t here, and it pains me that I have to take her soul now. I remember how it felt to walk into the room when my dad had died, even if I can no longer remember his face.


    I gently move across the room and I cannot stop watching Allie ¨C my daughter. I let Laura take over when we sit down at the chair next to the bed. She knows what must be done.


    On the bedside table she¡¯s placed, the very same doll that sits in my bookcase. She looks older. Tattered and dirty. But it¡¯s without a doubt Monique.


    We reach out a hand and gently touch the doll, Allie¡¯s green eyes follow us. She cannot move nor speak.


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    I thought we¡¯d feel the fabric when we touched it, but as usual I cannot. We move our hand to Allie¡¯s and carefully places ours above.


    Her eyes are asking us to release her from this hell.


    "You kept Monique," we say; I have a feeling that it is mostly Laura who controls the words that come out of our mouth.


    Allie blinks a few times; we squeeze her hand.


    ¡°Dad worked a lot on her, and I knew it¡¯d be yours the first time I held you in my embrace.¡±


    We gently stroke our thumb over Allie¡¯s hand; a sad yet peaceful smile comes across our face.


    ¡°My darling Allie, when I held you for the first time I never expected to hold your hand this way. It¡¯s a parent¡¯s worst nightmare, but I know how much you desire release,¡± we tightly hold her hand with both of ours, ¡°and I¡¯m here to give it to you.¡±


    It¡¯s uncomfortable to take someone¡¯s soul while they¡¯re dying. For a while I wonder if I should let her die and explain it as myself, but the way she looks at us tells me that it¡¯s okay.


    I want to take a deep breathe to calm my nerves, but Laura won¡¯t let me. We lean forward and place a kiss on Allie¡¯s forehead ¨C exactly like the memory I had seen in the Hall of Memories.


    ¡°Close your eyes, honey. Soon you¡¯ll be home,¡± we say and let go of her hand.


    Allie¡¯s eyes closes and the soul stone appears in our palm, it opens slowly. The soul dust lies above her skin, like it had been when Rampion reaped Pawe?. It floats in the air as it moves towards the stone.


    Nurses run into the room, and once the stone has closed I sit quietly on the chair. I can still feel her in my mind, but I¡¯m myself again.


    I watch as the nurses work, and study Allie¡¯s peaceful face. Somehow it almost looks more alive now.


    I remain until they¡¯re done and most of the nurses have left the room. When the man, that was present the last time I was here, runs into the room I decide to leave. It feels too personal and intrusive.


    When I¡¯ve gone far enough that I can no longer here the man weep, I bring forth the red jewel. I don¡¯t even have to do anything; the presence is tangible enough that I quickly spin around when I feel it.


    ¡°Would you look at that,¡± it says with a sharp grin, ¡°it¡¯s you again.¡±


    I look down at the creature that would resemble a human child if it weren''t for the gray skin, large black eyes and black cracks. It''s the one from the forest, the one that had called me a disappointment after it had to help me with the shattered soul.


    ¡°When Azor told me he¡¯d get a soul wanderer I had expected someone a bit more¡­ experienced?¡±


    ¡°Azor?¡±


    ¡±The being you¡¯ve made a contract with. Another useful piece of advice from me to you ¨C don¡¯t enter contracts with beings you don¡¯t even know the name of. Of course, the advice is only useful if they have a name.¡±


    I take a step back. I haven¡¯t forgotten the warnings I¡¯ve received about the fractured ones. If they knew I had entered a contract that had me help one of them, I¡¯m not sure what they would do. Azor ¨C as Sixteen had called him ¨C said that his contracts never led to any death, yet this didn¡¯t mean they would let this go unpunished.


    I clench my hand tightly around the jewel. "Azor said nothing about his friend being one of the fractured."


    It looks like Sixxteen is rolling his eyes. ¡°Of course not. Do you think he¡¯d ever get you to sign any contracts with him if he was open with the details? No, you soul wanderers would run straight to your guardians.¡±


    ¡°And what stops me from doing that now?¡±


    I take another step back; Sixxteen follows.


    ¡°You¡¯ve already signed the contract. It will be very uncomfortable for you if you don¡¯t stick to your part of the deal. Besides, what would the guardians think of you, their soul wanderer, signing contracts with troublesome beings? Specially not Azor. And when they find out what you¡¯ve agreed to¡­ oh, you¡¯ll be lucky if they decide to just banish you.¡±


    I squeeze the jewel tighter. The creature smiles bigger as he realizes that he has won, that I can''t go back and break the contract.


    He takes one step closer and holds out his grey, creviced hand. ¡°The jewel.¡±


    ¡±Why does one of the fractured need a charged Stormcoin?¡±


    The grin grows smaller, and the round eyes narrows. ¡°There are many uses of one.¡±


    ¡°Such as?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re asking a lot of questions.¡±


    I straighten my back and try to look confident even if I feel like a cornered animal. I have a hard time trusting anything he¡¯s saying. At the same time I know I have no choice here, I have to complete my end of the deal. Maybe it would be better to return to the guardians and hope they¡¯ll spare my idiocy.


    ¡°Will anyone get hurt?¡±


    He shrugs and I glare at him, for once I hope he¡¯ll take it seriously and assure me that my actions won¡¯t harm anyone. Even if it¡¯s a lie.


    He sighs and crosses his arms. ¡°Stormcoins gives life, no? I protect mine as much as you protect yours.¡±


    He sighs as I continue to stare at him with the jewel still in my closed fist.


    ¡°I cannot hurt anyone with a Stormcoin. Now, can I get the jewel so we can get this over with?¡±


    I loosen my grip. He holds out his hand once again. The thought of locking it into my mind and returning to the Realm of The Dead to warn the guardians is appealing. But as far as  I know the only purpose of a Stormcoin is to put a soul into a human¡¯s vessel. What kind of creature would want to do that? Especially when said creature is supposedly feeding on souls.


    I hesitate again and Sixxteen watches me with worry in his black eyes. Even a desperation, one I¡¯ve never seen before.


    I let go of the jewel and let it fall into his open palm, and once it makes contact with the creviced skin, he exhales with a smile.


    ¡°I better not regret this,¡± I say harshly.


    ¡°I cannot promise that, Soul wanderer. When you see where we¡¯re heading you might wish you took on the guardians¡¯ wrath.¡±


    He turns around and pushes his grey hand ¨C the one with the jewel ¨C against the wall, and once he pulls it back a large black gate is created. I can feel the electricity from where I¡¯m standing, like the energy from the world is seeping out. Even the living human seems to notice something even though they cannot see us or the gate.


    "Where does it lead?" I ask, taking a few steps closer.


    "You''ll see," the creature says with a grin. ¡°But whatever you do, don''t move when you get to the other side.¡±

 Chapter 35

    The world slams into me like a horse kick, full of electricity and energy. Everything as far as the eye can reach are flat landscapes without a single hill. No trees, no houses. Just parched land as straight and flat as an ocean surface. The only thing that stands out are the large rocks in a round grassy field far off in the distance. I don''t need to ask Sixxteen to know that''s where we''re heading.


    We¡¯re inside of what looks like a shallow cave, I can still see the dark, almost black cloud covering the entire sky. The rain pours down over the parched, barren land. Cracks covers the ground in a similar way to the crevices on Sixxteen¡¯s face.


    My entire soul shake as the sky rumbles. Sixxteen takes a few steps forward and looks out on the barren ground. He waves me forward.


    ¡°We¡¯re going there,¡± he says and points at the stones, ¡°it¡¯s not as easy as it looks. We cannot just walk there.¡±


    ¡°I had my suspicions,¡± I mumble as I stare at the dark sky.


    Sixxteen places his hands over each other but leaves a small space. A blue orb is created between, he carefully removes the hand on the top and throws the orb towards the ground that isn¡¯t protected by the shallow cave.


    Once the orb reaches the ground, there is only a brief moment until lightning hits, powerful enough that it feels like the entire ground is shaking. All that is left of the orb is smoking ash that quickly dissolves in the rain. The smell of something that tenses my entire body makes its way to my nostrils. I¡¯ve never felt that smell before, but I know it¡¯s what the creature mentioned as fading. A soul¡¯s death, as Nine had explained.


    It¡¯s so intrusive and pungent that it makes me cough. Sixxteen doesn¡¯t cough, but his entire face is furrowed by the burning feeling that must have settled in both our noses. He takes a step closer to the storm; my legs feel paralyzed.


    ¡°If the lightning hits any of us, the same thing will happen,¡± he doesn¡¯t sound affected by it, ¡°literal ash in the wind¡­ or rain in this case.¡±


    ¡°Okay, so how do we reach the stones?¡±


    ¡°We run.¡±


    ¡°Run?!¡± I stare at him with widen eyes. ¡°Are you out of your mind? There has to be a better way to reach it!¡±


    ¡°Can you fly?¡±


    I grimace.


    ¡°If you cannot fly, you got to run. When your big feet touch the ground the lightning will search for the disturbed spot, so don¡¯t stop running until you¡¯re in the circle of grass.¡±


    I look out over the flat, creviced ground and swallow. ¡°Any more of your useful advice?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°Don¡¯t get hit.¡±


    ¡±Easier said than done,¡± I mutter.


    Sixxteen doesn¡¯t hesitate as he starts running into the rain. The lightning strikes the ground a few centimeters away from him and the same smell of fading forces itself into my nose.


    I take a deep breath and shut out my thoughts, make my entire mind empty and when I once again find the hollow place within me I run.


    The first lightning that strikes is so close that I can feel how devastating it is. It leaves a burning taste and smell, making it feel like my entire throat and nose is covered in acid.


    For each strike I feel it. The smell and the feeling of the rain covering me, it clings to my body and clothes. It leaves a layer of electricity and energy on top of my wet skin.


    Everything. I can feel everything.


    Another lightning strike close enough that I lose my balance. I know that if I make the same mistake again it could be my last. Sixxteen is faster than I thought, compared to me they¡¯re barely able to keep up with him.


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    The smell burst through once again, a burning sensation touches my tongue. I want to vomit and spit. My back burns as another lightning strike behind me. I¡¯m close now. Sixxteen is almost there, just a few more meters.


    My hair has gotten stuck in my face, the burning taste in my mouth mixes with a sweet metallic one that makes me want to gag.


    Sixxteen reaches the circle of stone where grass is growing. He watches me from a safe distance.


    I try to ignore the sound of the lightning and the burning feeling on my back, and when I¡¯m close enough I throw myself into the circle and land on my stomach. I cough and gag, my entire mouth and nose feels acidic.


    ¡°Hell,¡± I mutter and breathe in the smell of the wet grass.


    Sixxteen slowly claps and I don¡¯t have the energy to even look at him when he approaches me.


    ¡°Good that you¡¯re in one piece,¡± I can see his stupid grin without looking at him, ¡°I would hate if I had to go back to Azor and ask for another soul wanderer.¡±


    I sit up on the grass. The rain has soaked through my clothes and clings to my skin. The electricity still lays above my body.


    ¡°What now?¡± I cough. ¡°I want this over with.¡±


    Sixxteen crouches down next to me, and extends his hand. I glare at him while wrinkling my nose.


    ¡°The Stormcoin,¡± he says.


    I reach out my hand and focus on the place in my mind, when it appear in my palm Sixxteen greedily snatches it. I stand on unsteady legs; it feels like I have a fever.


    ¡°Can you open a gate in the circle?¡± I ask as I watch him approach one of the stones.


    ¡°No,¡± he says and pushes the Stormcoin into one of the carved circles, ¡°you cannot create gates inside the circle. It would be all too easy to get here if so. The guardians can be selfish with their Stormcoins.¡±


    The coin turns and the sound of stone against stone blends into the rumbling of the sky.


    ¡°So how do we get back?¡±


    ¡°We run,¡± he answers. ¡°I had hoped that Azor would get his hands on one of the soul wanderers that participate in the charging of Stormcoins. This would have been a lot easier. But what can I say? I¡¯m not picky.¡±


    I have a hard time believing it has anything to do with him ¡®not being picky.¡¯


    The world shakes and a stone staircase with a platform grows out from the ground. Sixxteen takes out the coin and throws it towards me; I catch it with both my hands.


    ¡°Your turn. This part must be done by a soul wanderer.¡±


    And that is why I¡¯m here, to do what he cannot. I stare at the stairs that leads up to a round platform, it hovers a few meters over the stones.


    ¡°How?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°Stand on the platform and hold out the Stormcoin, I guess?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know how to do it?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not exactly welcomed to watch as you people charge it, so no. I don¡¯t know exactly how it works. As far as I know, you just need to stand there with the Stormcoin. It¡¯s safe. Probably.¡±


    That¡¯s reassuring. The sky rumbles again and I cannot see a lightning hit as far as my eyes can reach. It¡¯s foolish and without a doubt dangerous. I hold tightly round the coin as I climb the stairs, for once I can actually feel it. How hard and cold it is.


    When I have one more step left I stop and look out over the flat, cracked ground underneath me.


    ¡°If you could hurry up a bit, that would be perfect!¡± Sixxteen yells from the grassy ground behind me.


    I take a deep breath and take the last step to the platform. The electricity moves around my feet and calves. I reach out my unsteady and open hands with the Stormcoin, after that I close my eyes and wait.


    It lightens up and the rumble of the lightning is so loud that it feels like my ears are going to explode. The electricity moves itself down my fingers and arms; I open my eyes and stare directly at the lightning that is still in front of me like a beam of fire and ice. It moves slowly, in a similar way as the soul dust. It feels like the entire world has stopped while the Stormcoin is slowly devouring the lightning.


    Once the world grows darker the Stormcoin is shining once again. It feels hot against my wet skin. I quickly head down the stairs with the coin firmly in my hand.


    Sixxteen stands a few meters from the stairs with widen eyes and a slightly open mouth.


    Once I reach the ground, he eagerly reaches out his open hands and blinks a few times.


    ¡°Here,¡± I say and let go of the coin, it falls down onto his cracked palms.


    He moves his fingers greedily. The smile he has looks different from the usual sharp grin.


    ¡°Finally,¡± he mutters, tightly holding it like he¡¯s fearing it will disappear.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    He nods as a thank you and observes the cave on the other side. I¡¯m not pleased that I have to run through this world a second time.


    ¡°Once we reach the cave this part of the deal with Azor is finished.¡± He puts down the Stormcoin in one of his pockets and pulls forward a silver dagger. Its blade is covered in beautiful but complex patterns. ¡°He knows you¡¯ve completed your part of the deal if you give him this.¡±


    ¡°A dagger?¡± I ask as he holds it out.


    ¡°That was my part of my deal.¡±


    ¡°What does he need a dagger for?¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you understood yet? Azor has hundreds of deals with beings and soul wanderers. Often, they¡¯re connected in some way. The dagger is a part of another deal he has with someone else.¡±


    I take the dagger. It feels heavy in my hand and sends unpleasant shivers through my arm.


    ¡°And I have another advice for you.¡±


    He¡¯s not smiling anymore.


    ¡±Do not show anyone you have it. Just Azor. No soul wanderers. No guardians. To be safe, I¡¯d go straight to him as soon as you get back to the Realm.¡±


    This feeling the dagger gives off, it cannot be any good news. I think reluctantly on my place in my mind, and when the dagger is no longer in my hand Sixxteen prepares to bolt over the cracked landscape one more time.

 Chapter 36

    The lack of a crowd and market stalls makes this place feel empty and new, like I recognize it well enough to know that I''ve been here before, but new enough to leave an odd feeling to it. Azor has yet to pack up the market stall. All of the objects that formerly laid on the table are gone. Azor himself is sitting on a chair behind it and waiting, like someone had notified him I was on my way.


    "I have it," is all I say when I arrive at the market stall.


    I can feel it in my head, how it''s pulsating and spreading its disgusting presence inside my mind. I have to get it out of my head soon, and preferably as far away from me as possible.


    "Welcome back. I''ve been waiting for you."


    "I have some questions for you," I hiss and the creature makes a gesture with his hand.


    "Not here," he says and stands up, "follow me."


    He leads us to the same short wooden door, but once we enter it I realize we don''t end up in the cabin. We''re in an entirely different world and it''s unlike any other I''ve seen. It''s blank and impersonal, clad in white in every direction with grey, floating platforms in shapes of squares. Bridges of rectangles hover in the air, each one leaves large gaps between each other.


    "Where are we?" I ask.


    "A small, forgotten world. Abandoned since there is nothing but what we see in front of us. The truth is that no one has cared enough to see what it has to offer... below."


    "Why did you take me here?"


    "Because it''s a perfect place to speak of forbidden things. No one is listening," he says and watches me intensively. "So, do you have it? The dagger?"


    "What the hell is this thing?"


    It scratches against my mind. It wants out of my head. Something we can agree on, but to give this dagger to this disgusting creature is foolish and certainly dangerous.


    "That''s not part of our deal, is it, Orchid? Unless you''d like to make another deal with me?"


    He grins.


    "Go to hell!"


    "Hell? Is that some human thing? I''m afraid it has little meaning to me." He takes a step closer. "You made a deal with me, Orchid. You knew what you were agreeing to. Don''t try to say otherwise. Now give me the dagger so I can fulfill my part of the deal."


    I take a step back; it''s like claws inside of my head.


    "This dagger," I begin and close my eyes tightly when it cuts into me, "I should tell the guardians what you''re doing."


    Breathe. Don''t think of it.


    He laughs. "Little girl, how are you going to do that? Will you explain to them how you got it? How you helped one of the fractured to charge a Stormcoin? You won''t have a chance to tell it when they see you with the dagger. They''ll destroy you."


    I think of what Cerberus said, that they weren''t almighty and that Azor''s threats are empty.


    The dagger cuts into me so deeply that I fold in pain. I push a hand against my open mouth, I''m just about able to swallow the scream growing in my throat.


    "You said," I take a deep breath, "you said it wouldn''t lead to fading."


    "I lied," he says nonchalantly. "But the likelihood of that is small as long as you don''t run to them and admit what you''ve done. I can disappear if I need to, but you... If they don''t fade you, they''ll lock you away for eternity. The guardians can be grim at times. I advise you to give me the dagger before it or the guardians destroy you entirely."


    A stab to my mind and I fall down on my knees. I need to get it out of my head before it cuts me to pieces. I cannot give it to Azor, I cannot let him give it to someone else. I focus on my hands touching the gray platform, on the cursed dagger and how it cuts me to pieces.


    I call it forth and it sends shivers up my arm as it materializes underneath my palm. I grab it tightly and with a swift movement I send it sliding towards the platform''s edge. I don''t know the repercussions of it, but it has to be better than it ending up in Azor''s hands.


    Azor narrows the white eyes at me and then the dagger sliding across the platform. He lunges for it and the black transparent veil moves in the air.


    He hangs over the edge with half of his body and groans as he gets up again. My stomach turns ¨C in his vile hand he holds the silver dagger.


    I don''t have the energy to get back on my feet when he turns fully towards me. The disturbing eyes studies the weapon until it disappears from his hand. His entire face grimaces and creates even more wrinkles.


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    He can feel it. How it cuts and stabs him inside of his mind.


    "Pleasant, isn''t it?" I hiss between clenched teeth.


    Azor moves his three eyes towards me and blinks a few times. The grimace disappears and is replaced with the regular, unpleasant expression.


    "It certainly has a life of its own. But I won''t have to have it there for very long."


    My mind is pounding in pain. I cannot find the energy to get up or move away from Azor as he crouches down in front of me.


    "Unlike you, I respect the deals I make. The mirror and the information you asked for are yours."


    I want to spit in his face and tell him I don''t want anything from him. He puts down the mirror in front of me. I don''t touch it; he stands up.


    "What do you want to know first? What I told Cerberus or the information on Clover?"


    "Go to hell..."


    "This again? Mm, not good, Orchid. Is this how you thank my generosity? After what you just tried I should throw you into the depths. But I won''t. I still offer you your part of the deal. Will you really let everything you did be in vain? If you''re not a fool you''ll take my offer. Now, Cerberus or Clover?"


    "... Cerberus."


    I hate myself for playing his game.


    "Good. As you can tell, this is much nicer, isn''t it?" He grins and I wrinkle my nose in disgust. "Cerberus came to me after he had heard some rumors. He wanted to know if they were true."


    I look up at him with disdain, he doesn''t care what I think of him now when he has what he wants.


    "What did he have to give you?" I strain myself to ask before he can continue. "What was his side of the deal?"


    Azor smiles. "The Stormcoin."


    It was just like Sixxteen had said. That our deals are connected. There was someone who had asked for the dagger and that was connected to mine and Sixxteen''s deal with Azor.


    "Of course, I began asking for a charged Stormcoin, that would have made things a lot easier. But Cerberus did not budge. A discharged Stormcoin was harmless, it would take a lot for me to get it charged. There''s not a single being stupid enough to enter the human world unless they''ve been forced to. Furthermore, a soul wanderer is needed to charge it. To Cerberus there was no one defiant enough that would agree to such terms. He didn''t see a threat."


    A lone shiver climbs my back.


    "The thing that Cerberus forgot was that newcomers do not understand the rules of the Realm until they''ve lived here for a long time. The young ones are always dumb enough to join deals of desperation or wonder. The more desperate they are, the more likely they''ll say yes to deals far beyond their understanding. Specially if they''re looking for answers in a world that has none. That''s something your kind don''t get. You try to understand it from your human mind and never receive the answer you wished for. He should have known better. He''s after all not that different from you newcomers with your thirst for knowledge and comprehension. But you Orchid. Your thirst of knowledge was of selfish reasons. Not the same foolish questions without answers, that thirst to understand the worlds and death. No, you wanted the answer to other people''s problems, like you had the right to know. Selfish. I''m not sure which is worse. If anything, it''s a little more interesting than the regular questions I often answer for you newcomers."


    "Why are you telling me this?" I ask and try to make my voice sound confident, but it breaks and I sound like a scared, pitiful animal.


    He bends down and closes his eyes a few seconds in pain when he feels the dagger in his mind. "Because you annoy me. And it''s a pleasant truth to give you. But it might not be as pleasant for you."


    "You enjoy telling me these things."


    "Yes, after what you''ve done there isn''t much else that could please me right now." He straightens his back and looks out over the whiteness. "You should be happy I caught the dagger. Otherwise as my last demand, I''d send you down after it. And not even I know what hides down there."


    I clench my jaw and stare at him with all the despise I can muster.


    "How enjoyable it might be to share your unpleasant truth I don''t have time for it. So let me continue." The white eyes narrow. "The rumors Cerberus had heard was that The Raven had been seen in some of the inhabited worlds. Cerberus came to me to hear if those rumors were true."


    I frown. "The Raven is dead."


    "Dead?" Azor laughs. "He''s as dead as you and the rest of you soul wanderers."


    "What?"


    "The Raven would have his funeral, that part is true. But before they would take his soul, he left our worlds and kept to the abandoned ones. The guardians faked a funeral to avoid panic within the soul wanderers and beings, but it was also a warning for him. No one leaves the guardians and comes back."


    The Raven was alive. If Sun and Clover found out...


    "And the rumors, where they true?"


    "Yes, I told Cerberus that the Raven had been seen in a few worlds. Often dressed in a black cloak and an enlarged raven-skull as a mask. I also told him that several lost soul wanderers had been seen in similar attire. What they are planning I have not yet found out, but they are seen more often."


    "And Clover? Was it the Raven he met by the well?"


    "No. It was a soul wanderer by the name of the Fox. He was dressed in the same attire as the raven, but instead of a raven he wore a fox-skull mask."


    "What did they speak of?"


    "About the Raven. The rest you should see for yourself." He takes a step closer. "This is where the mirror comes into play. You see, everything leaves marks in the world. With the right tools you can see these marks and memories. All you need to do is to look into the mirror, and once it has locked itself you turn it against the well."


    "Is that all?"


    It sounded too simple. After everything I couldn''t trust him, not that I ever fully did. He had lied straight to my face, told me I didn''t have to worry about the guardians when we made a deal. I had been stupid, taken the deal in desperation and ignored the red flag that he had been waving around from the moment I had met him.


    "You don''t trust me..."


    "How could I?"


    He slowly leans forward and extends a grey arm through the transparent fabric; he pushes the mirror with sapphires closer. I want to spit in his grotesque face.


    "I have everything I''d want from you. To a beginning. There''s still the second favor. But you can trust that the information I''ve given you is true, that the mirror is the real deal. I do after all have a reputation to upkeep.


    Azor straightens his back and moves his hand over the fabric. "We''re done here for now. Once I know my last demand I''ll get in touch. I hope you won''t make me as disappointed as I''ve been today."


    Azor leaves me sitting on the grey platform in this empty world.


    I feel guilt and shame when I take the mirror into my mind. What he had said had been cruel, but it was the truth no matter how much I hated it.

 Chapter 37

    It''s repulsive to be here again. To feel the sorrow that forces itself under my skin. It''s hard to focus when I move across the dark blue grass. I keep the mirror tightly in my hand, but I don''t dare to look into it yet.


    In front of me lays the well, it somehow looks sadder than the last time I was here. I think of Clover''s warnings, to never touch the liquid, no matter how much it may call on me.


    When I''m sure I''m alone I lift the mirror and look into my own eyes ¨C they don''t feel like mine. It''s different from the reflection in the crystal hall. There''s nothing evil in these eyes, it''s more like I''m watching someone through a window.


    The reflection locks and no matter how I move it around, it won''t change. Except the eyes, they follow me no matter the angle.


    The mirror I keep angled towards the well; I take a deep breath. I close my eyes to shut out the sorrow and the desire ¨C need ¨C to submerge my entire body into the blue liquid. I think of Clover and the Fox, the one who was dressed in a black cloak and a fox-skull mask.


    When I open my eyes I make a movement with my hand so the back of the mirror reflects the entire well. The green eyes follow me with every movement I make.


    The air in front of me is visible and has become marked with all soul wanderers that has been here. Shapes of blue-green and moving air touches the entire area. There are hundreds of them and I cannot see color or details. I know who I''m looking for, he looks exactly like the other shapes. But the moment I lay my eyes on him I know that it''s Clover, the one mark I''ve been searching for.


    The reflection''s eyes moves, this time they don''t follow me. They turn inside out, so only the whites of the eyes are visible. All the shapes ¨C except two ¨C disappears. The details and the colors form in the air. It''s hard to see, like they''re still made of the same blue-green air with the slightest details. By appearance only I can barely recognize Clover. The entire area is woven into a heavy storm that you can see with the naked eye. I hold the mirror steadily and I don''t dare to move, fearing that the scene in front of me would disappear.


    I feel Clover''s thoughts, his emotions. The nervousness, longing, and a worry. Strongest of all was the suspicions he had.


    The hope was almost as strong. That was why he was there. If there was the slightest chance that the Raven was alive then it was worth meeting the strange soul wanderer. He had heard about him before, a man who had left and set out to the abandoned worlds. It wasn''t the first time he had heard of soul wanderers who defied the guardians, they who gave up their purpose. But the Fox was young ¨C too young to defy them without help from the outside.


    He had expected someone to have helped and convinced him. He never suspected the Raven, not until the Fox came to him and claimed he was still alive.


    It was the only reason why he had snuck out to this place that forced itself into his skin and suffocated him with a devastating sorrow.


    He hated the well, a deep hatred for what it had forced him to go through when he had submerged his entire body in the vile liquid. But the well had its advantages. Here none could lie, the lies were written in their faces of those few who tried. Most knew it was futile. There were only a few that were so gifted with their silver tongues that could speak such lies that they themselves believed in it.


    That''s why Clover wanted to meet him here. He hoped and prayed that the Fox wasn''t one of those few people with silver tongues. No lies would be voiced. He''d know if the Raven truly was alive, and if he''d let him believe he was dead for fifty years.


    For his own mental health, Clover hoped that the Raven ¨C if he was alive ¨C had a really good reason for why he''d never told him, why he''d let him believe he was dead.


    Clover tightened his fists when he watched the Fox, whose attention seemed to lie on the liquid beneath them. He turned around when he heard Clover walking up the stairs. He wore the same fox-skull mask he had seen him in the first time he met him. It had only been a few days since then. That was when he had told him the Raven was still alive ¨C that he wanted to talk with him.


    "Vile place... But I am here," the Fox began and observed Clover a long while before he continued, "the Raven wanted me to¨C"


    "Take off the mask before you even think of uttering his name," Clover interrupted him.


    The Fox slowly moved a pale hand against his face, pushed a few fingers against the fox-skull mask and if fell into his hand.


    "Thus, vulnerable and bare," he said with a smile.


    His face was covered in sorrow, the same emotion that likely sat upon Clover''s face. It meant nothing yet. All that mattered was when he asked the heavy questions about the Raven ¨C if there were any lies in the pale face.


    "The Raven has sent me here for you."


    No difference.


    "You say that," Clover said and tensed up, "but how can I trust that? I was on his funeral. I saw them let his soul go. You mean this was all a game that the Raven created... for what?"


    It annoyed him that the Fox saddened face hadn''t changed, that he likely spoke the truth. Maybe it was a twisted truth, with such small lies woven into it that he couldn''t notice it.


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    "Put the blame on the guardians. Not on the Raven."


    Anger. He felt the same respect that Clover had once felt ¨C one he still might have felt. But if he was alive and had lied all these years...


    "Is he truly alive?" Clover asked.


    He couldn''t care less about the guardians, he needed to know. To see if he lied.


    "He is alive."


    Clover tensed his jaw. No lie.


    "The Raven... The Viking?"


    He had to know for sure they were speaking of the same person, that he wasn''t trying to lie by using another soul wanderer with the same name.


    "Yes, he''s alive, Clover. He asked me to¨C"


    "Why? Why hasn''t he said anything in fifty years?"


    "Because he couldn''t. The guardians faked his funeral and second death. If he entered your world ¨C or some of the less inhabited worlds ¨C then the guardians wouldn''t hesitate. They''d imprison or abolish him. He has already put himself in enough danger to do what he had to. That''s why he sent me as his messenger."


    Truth. Each word he said was the truth.


    "What does he want?"


    The Fox hesitated and the entire face showed worry. "He''ll explain everything himself."


    "What does he want?" Clover repeated, this time harsher.


    The worry was still visible in his features, he chose the next words carefully.


    "He asked me to bring you with me."


    "Just tell me what he wants!"


    The Fox shook his head. "He asked me to bring you to him. I know there''s a lot I''m asking of you, but I cannot say more than that."


    Clover frowned. "You want me to leave these worlds..."


    "Yes. I''m here to take you to the Raven. He''s in Lyathus."


    "Lyathus? Is that another abandoned world?"


    The Fox nodded and took two more steps closer, in his hand he held the mask tightly.


    Clover laughed bitterly. "If the Raven wants to tell me something he can come himself. Then I might think over it."


    "I insist," the Fox said.


    It laid something desperate in his eyes.


    Clover took a step back. "Is that a threat? Did Raven say that you''d have to force me if I said no?"


    He didn''t know how strong the man was, nor what his plans were if he did decline his "offer". It would take too much time to create a door. The Fox stood close to the liquid and if he was quick enough he could push him into it if he tried something. But after experiencing the well''s most vile parts he wasn''t so sure he could subject someone else to it.


    "No threat. You have the right to make your own decisions."


    Truth again, but Clover couldn''t let his guard down just yet.


    "But?"


    "I ask of you to think through them."


    Clover took another step back. Disappointment and shame showed itself in the Fox''s face; he knew he had failed.


    "I understand," the Fox said and put the mask back on. "If you change your mind..."


    He never finished his sentence. A gate was built up in between them and when it disappeared the man was gone.


    I breathe in the sour air. I feel his thoughts and emotions like they were my own when they begin from the beginning again, like it is stuck in a loop. Over and over again.


    I lower my arm and the scene disappears; the mirror blackens for a few seconds until it reflects the surroundings again.


    He had said no. I don''t understand why he''d never told the guardians, why Cerberus hadn''t known this. Was he protecting the Raven or had he regretted his choice? There was still a chance that the Fox had looked him up again and taken him to the abandoned world to meet the Raven.


    And who was the Fox?


    I close my eyes tightly as my head start to pound. I focus and put my mirror back into my inner mind. It''s hard to think here, clearly the presence of the dagger has wounded my mind.


    Yet another problem I haven''t the faintest idea on how to solve. I cannot stop thinking of what I''ve gotten myself into.


    ****


    I stand naked in an eternal darkness with the dagger tightly gripped in my hands. I press it against my stomach, hard enough that it penetrates my skin and draws blood. I feel no pain in my abdomen, not the tip moving deeper into my skin as I move it in circles. But for each part I cut I feel the pain in my mind, in the same way I had felt when I had it in my head.


    I continue slicing it over my skin. Over thighs, chest, arms, and hands. When I look down at my body I realize I''ve cut the very pattern that covers the blade of the dagger. Even my fingers are covered in blood and the deeply engraved symbols. I pull my fingertips over them, some have healed and feels softer and thicker like scars. The sorrow from the well settles itself underneath my scarred skin.


    A creature is sitting in front of a fire and hits its hammer over a dagger on an anvil ¨C the same one I''m holding in my scarred hands. The creatures skin looks metal-like, thicker and stronger than a human''s fragile skin.


    I take a step forward. "What are you doing?"


    The voice echoes out over the darkness.


    "I''m creating a weapon," the creature answers with a soft, fatherly voice.


    "What for?"


    I take another step forward and let the fire warm my bare skin.


    "Defense. Protection. Punishment," he says and slams down the hammer for each word. He stares at me with fully black eyes. "The last resort."


    His skin slowly starts breaking out in deep crevices. The black eyes plead. I take a step back and when he rises I notices he is well over two meters tall.


    The crevices grow deeper and further. His eyes are desperate. I reach out an arm, and the creature in front of me breaks into thousands of pieces. Small stones falls onto my hands and burn my scarred skin like they are red-hot coal.


    Slowly crevices grow upon my hand. I shake away the scorching stones from my palm, but they keep growing up my arms, my shoulder, my throat. My face.


    And I scream when I feel myself shatter.


    I sit up in my bed and stare out at the window on the eternal rainy day. I extend my hands and study them. They''re whole, bare and pale. Not covered by blood and engraved symbols. Not scarred nor shattered.


    Breathe, I remind myself. It was only a dream.


    I kick off the blanket and put my feet down at the floor; I lean my torso over my lap. When I close my eyes I see the dagger, symbols, and scars in front of me. My stomach turns.


    "It was only a dream," I say out loud and pull a hand through my hair.


    Maybe telling Blomst or Cerberus, asking them to be forgiving could be a good choice. That I didn''t mean to give the dagger to Azor, that I tried to send the weapon out over the platform. I doubt it''d do any difference. What I had done was treason, Azor had at the very least made it sound like that. They''d fade me or imprisoned me for what I had done. It was better to keep this to myself. There had to be a way to solve this, maybe I could learn who Azor had made the deal with. Azor wasn''t the only problem. Clover and the Fox was still something I wasn''t sure how to handle. The Raven was alive, and Clover hadn''t told the guardians about him nor the Fox.


    I pick myself up from the bed and keep my arms around me. The Fox. He is ¨C or at the very least was ¨C Vrana''s soul wanderer. If I''m going to find out anything about him, I can start there. I can''t talk to Clover. If I somehow find him, I''m sure he''d lie. Besides, I can''t explain how I know he''s lying. I stand by the window and put my hands on the windowsill. My head aches, like the dagger is still there.

 Chapter 38

    ¡°Wait a moment,¡± Vrana mumbles as I step into his room; he doesn¡¯t look up from the leather book on his desk.


    Animal skulls are hung up on the walls and between each one hangs thick fur-skins. The rest of the room looks normal ¨C like the insides of a cozy cabin of dark wood. I didn¡¯t expect a guardian who names his soul wanderers after animals to put skulls on the walls. Cerberus had shown a curiosity for humans. Vrana might have similar interests, though his seems to focus more on death in the human world. I don¡¯t know if souls leave anything behind once they fade away. But in the living world a sign that someone once existed is left behind, maybe that was what had caught Vrana¡¯s attention enough that he¡¯d hang them up like trophies.


    I look back at Vrana, he looks up at me at the same time and smiles.


    ¡°Orchid was it, no?¡± he says and puts away the leather book. ¡°To be honest I hadn¡¯t expected that you¡¯d visit me. If at all. So, tell me¡­ What are you doing here?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t create a chair for me, nor does he let me go with his gaze. I take a few steps forward and grimaces when my mind aches.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Yes, everything is fine. I just have a few questions.¡±


    ¡°About what?¡±


    He smiles again; there¡¯s still no chair in front of the desk.


    ¡°About one of your soul wanderers.¡±


    His gaze finally leaves mine and travels down. Within a few seconds a broad wooden armchair grows out of the floor. A white-grey pelt that reminds me of wolves lays over the backrest.


    ¡°Which one of my soul wanderers to do you want to talk about?¡±


    I sit down. Vrana leans back and wrinkles his nose and mouth like he just smelled the odor of something truly disgusting.


    ¡°The Fox.¡±


    Vrana puts his clasped hands under his chin. ¡°And where did you hear that name?¡±


    I don¡¯t know what to answer. The truth is too complicated ¨C it would say too much. If they knew what I did, I¡¯d be lucky if they decided to lock me up. I don¡¯t know what that would mean for me, what a prison in the realm of the dead would entail. How long I¡¯d be there, where they would even place me. Maybe it¡¯d be more merciful just to put me out of my misery.


    I take a deep breath, but not deep enough for him to notice how nervous I am. ¡°Does it matter?¡±


    ¡±You could say that.¡± He leans forward. ¡°If it has anything to do with those vile wounds in your mind.¡±


    He can see them? I glare at him, holding my skirt tightly with one hand.


    Vrana laughs. ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that. I have no plans on telling anyone.¡±


    ¡°Why¡­? Isn¡¯t it dangerous?¡±


    He slightly leans over the desk. ¡°It¡¯s deadly.¡±


    A half-open smile rests on his lips, he looks more amused than worried.


    ¡°As you humans says.¡± He leans back. ¡°A normal, physical weapon doesn¡¯t do much against a soul with no vessel. There¡¯s nothing physical to harm. There are weapons that can hurt us even though we don¡¯t have a vessel. That dagger that cut into your mind is a vile one.¡±


    He pushes a finger against my forehead, once he pulls back I can still feel the electric feeling over my skin.


    ¡°The presence is seeping out, but I can tell it¡¯s no longer there. However, it has left a mark on your mind and will tear you apart for weeks. Depending on how long you had it there, you could lose your mind entirely. Luckily, it doesn''t seem to have spread too far. But you''ll be like a walking beacon, every guardian you come across will notice, and we can''t have that.¡±


    Vrana stands up from the armchair with sheepskin over its backrest. He moves past his desk and stands in front of me, I turn my eyes away as he stares me down.


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    "I will help you with the wounds. In return, I expect you to tell me everything. Why you¡¯re asking about the Fox. Why you even had the dagger to begin with and what happened to it.¡±


    ¡°And if I say no?¡± I ask in a whisper with my eyes focusing on the empty armchair in front of me.


    ¡°You won¡¯t be destroyed by the dagger. It won¡¯t make you lose your mind. But as I mentioned before, you¡¯re a walking beacon for us guardians, I cannot promise that the other guardians will be as merciful. I do want to help you, but I cannot do it without making sure I understand the situation at hand.¡±


    I turn back to him. ¡°Okay.¡±


    Dealing with one guardian was better than all seven. No matter what I did, they¡¯d likely find out what I¡¯ve done sooner or later.


    He looks relieved.


    ¡°Good. Now let me help you with those wounds of yours.¡±


    Vrana pushes his fingers against my forehead ¨C underneath my bangs ¨C and the electrical and tickling feeling comes back, and it becomes much more tangible and painful.


    When he removes his hand from my skin I can no longer feel it. Not the pain, nor the holes in my mind. He healed them with a single touch.


    ¡°Does it feel better?¡±


    ¡°Much,¡± I say as I touch my forehead gently.


    Vrana goes back to his place behind the desk. He corrects the black and white tie and moves the two different colored eyes towards me again.


    Outside of the window there¡¯s a meadow with small white flowers in a dark forest, a roedeer is grazing next to it. It looks real.


    ¡±Is it safe here?¡± I ask and observe the roedeer. ¡±Can we speak undisturbed?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ve made this room safe. None can see or hear us. Whatever we speak of stays here.¡±


    Cerberus had asked me to meet him in the theater because it clearly wasn¡¯t safe to have that discussion inside his office, yet Vrana seemed to believe no one could hear us here. There wasn¡¯t much else to do but to trust him. Despite that, I couldn¡¯t find the guardians very trustworthy.


    ¡°Before I tell you anything I want to ask a question.¡±


    ¡°Ask away.¡±


    ¡°Why are you doing this? Wouldn¡¯t it be better for you as a guardian to tell the others about the dagger?¡±


    He leans back. ¡°I am planning to tell them. If it ends up in the wrong hands it could cause a lot of damage.¡±


    ¡°I thought you said you weren¡¯t planning on telling anyone.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep your involvement out of it. I won¡¯t cause fading or imprisonment onto a soul wanderer that hasn¡¯t realized the seriousness of their actions. I doubt your actions was of malicious intent. You¡¯re too young to understand the Realm. You don¡¯t know our legends nor history. No, as guardians we shall take care of you, it¡¯s our responsibility after taking you here. Sometimes we forget what our purpose really is. I will not sit here and watch as they fade you or send you away for no good reason. Don¡¯t misunderstand me ¨C I don¡¯t think you¡¯re entirely innocent. But I¡¯d rather watch you go free than go through the punishment meant for someone else. A young soul wanderer wouldn¡¯t just end up with the dagger on their own.¡±


    I still feel guilty, had I listened to Clover I¡¯d never be in this situation.


    ¡°Is that an answer worthy of your question?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°Good. Now, no one can listen in on our conversation. Could you explain how you ended up with the dagger in your mind?¡±


    I cannot sit idly; my fingers grasp the armrest tightly to calm my mind. I¡¯m not sure where to begin, or if I should even tell the truth. To not lie or withhold something.


    I don¡¯t. Not this time. The last time I had tried doing everything by myself I created more problems. If I had been honest with Cerberus about Clover, I wouldn¡¯t have been here. I wouldn¡¯t have accepted a deal I didn¡¯t understand or knew the consequences of.


    I tell him of my worries and suspicions I¡¯ve had of Clover, that Rampion had seen him at the well. That I saw Cerberus speak with Azor, and that I made a deal with him. I tell him of the Stormcoin, about the dagger and that I tried to make it fall into the white depths. The only thing I don¡¯t mention is the conversation with Cerberus in the theater. It feels wrong to speak of that. I had already lied despite promising him the truth. The very least I can do is to keep that between us.


    Vrana says nothing as I pour everything out I¡¯ve carried. I want to let it all so it won¡¯t feel as heavy anymore, but when I¡¯m almost done it feels just as heavy, if not heavier.


    ¡°Azor,¡± Vrana mumbles with a distaste, ¡°I should have known he was involved.¡±


    He pushes a hand against his chin. ¡°And the mirror he gave you, did you use it?¡±


    ¡°I did. I saw Clover speak with the Fox. About the Raven.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s why you asked me about him?¡±


    I squeeze the armrest once again. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard that the Fox and another soul wanderer was involved with the Raven, I barely believed in the rumors. Both of them were younger soul wanderers, so I hadn¡¯t expected them to join him. Especially since The Raven left us fifty years ago, the Fox and Mint hadn¡¯t even been born in the human world yet.¡±


    ¡°Did Clover ever tell you he spoke to him?¡± I ask carefully.


    I already know the answer after the conversation  I had with Cerberus in the theater, I¡¯m scared to get it confirmed.


    ¡°Not that I know of, and if he did, I should have heard about it.¡±


    I move my mouth nervously, hoping for something to say.


    "It could be..." He stops mid-sentence and his eyes narrow. ¡°Hm, it''s hard for us to determine if he''s a threat or not just from the memory you witnessed.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s not a threat. He didn¡¯t follow the Fox,¡± I try.


    ¡°While you saw him decline his offer, it would still be unwise to ignore it completely. I don¡¯t think Clover would betray us. He puts a lot of importance in loyalty. But if it is a problem, we need to take care of it right away.¡±


    Somehow, I¡¯m not surprised that I was able to make it even worse.


    ¡°How will you deal with this then?¡± I ask, my voice apathetic.


    I cannot find the energy to care anymore.


    ¡°A meeting. Tomorrow, and you¡¯ll have to attend, as well as Clover.¡±


    ¡°Do I have a choice?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not.¡±


    I already knew the answer before I asked, yet hearing it creates a heavy lump in my throat.

 Chapter 39

    According to Vrana the meeting is held in the Citadel. Yet it seems to be more of a trial. Each guardian will be present as they discuss Clover and what I¡¯ve done. How Vrana will explain the mirror I don¡¯t know. He cannot tell them where I got it, not after he promised to keep it a secret. Not that I have any trust for a guardian. I never asked, I was too tired to care. Nor did I want to think of the hell I created because I couldn¡¯t shut my mouth for a second.


    Once I reach the Citadel, Deer is waiting for me, the orange glow in her eye sockets move like flames. She bows slightly and take a few steps back.


    ¡°I¡¯m here to show you the way to the meeting, Orchid,¡± she says with a fragile voice. ¡°The guardians are waiting for you there.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± I mumble.


    Deer bows once more and limps over the glass floor. She leads me deeper into the Citadel, through the long corridors with murals.


    We reach a large hall where the floor, ceiling and each wall is forest green. On the walls are seven pulpits, they¡¯re decorated with bronze symbols and shapes. Below them, gentle waves caress the platform. It¡¯s already crowded by five soul wanderers ¨C Clover, Sun, Nine, and another one I don¡¯t recognize.


    I stand next to Sun. She looks questioningly at me ¨C it¡¯s clear she has no idea why they took us here, nor do I know why Sun and Nine are present. I had expected to only see Clover.


    ¡°Why are we here?¡± the unknown soul wanderer asks.


    His voice is dark and commanding. He¡¯s dressed in Native American tribal clothing and carries a confidence that reminds me of the guardians.


    ¡°Sage,¡± Couleur says and the unknown soul wanderer steps forward. ¡°We¡¯ll explain everything, until then it¡¯s better if you let us speak. You may ask questions later.¡±


    The soul wander she called Sage takes a step back. The dark eyes don¡¯t look a tad friendlier; they won¡¯t leave his guardian.


    Couleur gives Vrana a glance and nods. He lays his hand on the pulpit wall and looks down at me, like he is asking me to trust him.


    ¡°There have been some rumors that the Raven had been seen in Vert,¡± Vrana begins.


    I don¡¯t dare to look at either Clover nor Sun.


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Sun asks. ¡°The Raven had his funeral fifty years ago.¡±


    Saturn takes a step closer and looks down at us. ¡°The funeral you attended was nothing else but a lie to make sure there would be no uprising,¡± Saturn says.


    Sun¡¯s young face grimaces of pure betrayal; she takes a step forward and clenches her fist. ¡°And you never planned on telling us?¡±


    For the first time I see clear sympathy in Couleur¡¯s face, something I wasn¡¯t expecting to find in her features.


    ¡°I had no reason to tell you,¡± Saturn says with a tone of incomprehensible wonder, ¡°unless I¡¯m asking you to deal with the Raven there was no point with you knowing.¡±


    ¡°I had the right to know,¡± she hisses between gritted teeth.


    Saturn frowns slightly, yet his face remains calm. I doubt he was insulted by Sun¡¯s decision to question her guardian, yet I have a feeling he isn¡¯t taking her seriously either.


    First laughs and places a hand under his chin. ¡°See, Saturn. If you don¡¯t put them in their place, they¡¯ll forget who they¡¯re speaking to in such a disrespectful way.¡±


    Couleur scoffs and the air in the forest green hall feels suffocating. ¡°If Saturn had warned her before the meeting took place¡­¡±


    ¡°Silence,¡± Saturn commands and Sun takes a step back.


    First scoffs and makes a hand gesture, while Saturn move the star-marked eyes towards Sun again.


    ¡°There was no reason for you to know then.¡± He turns back to Couleur. ¡°Sun is my soul wanderer. I decide the time when to tell her. You have no right to command nor reprimand me, Couleur.¡±


    ¡°So why are you telling me this now?¡± Sun asks.


    ¡°We¡¯re suspecting that the Raven is involved in a theft of an artifact in Arkaros. I apologize for the rest of us guardians, our intent was never to get off course.¡±


    This time it was Cerberus that spoke. First, he focuses on Sun and then on me ¨C by the harsh appearance of his usual friendly face, I know he¡¯s aware I lied in the theater. That despite promising him that I¡¯d tell him everything, I didn¡¯t and instead I poured it all out for Vrana.


    ¡°Why would the Raven steal anything from you?¡± Clover asks.


    ¡°He left us,¡± Sage reminds him, ¡°and betrayed the guardians. If he¡¯s capable of that than he¡¯s capable of stealing.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡±


    ¡±He betrayed us. How could you still protect him?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not protecting him. Yes, the Raven left us but that doesn¡¯t mean he has stolen anything.¡±


    First laughs and puts a hand under the amused grin. ¡°Very interesting words coming from the man working with said thief.¡±


    There¡¯s no confusion in Clover¡¯s coal-marked face, just an annoyance.


    ¡°Silence! Nothing will be solved while you bicker with each other, both soul wanderers and guardians alike.¡± Blomst glares at the ever-grinning First. ¡°Besides, those are suspicions, First. Don¡¯t spread your fabrications without concrete evidence.¡±


    ¡°Naturally you protect Clover. Are you too blinded to see how obvious it is? If he respected our authority, he would have gone to you the moment the Fox contacted him. But he didn¡¯t. Vrana had to order your soul wanderer to figure out what had happened because you¡¯d never do it yourself. To give a soul wanderer one of Saphir¡¯s mirrors are insulting enough but that the gift came from another guardian is preposterous. As a guardian, you should be ashamed.¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    That was the lie that Vrana had sown. That it was him who had given me the mirror and told me to go to the well to see who Clover was talking with. It makes me feel worse. I had been driven by a selfish fear embedded with curiosity. There had been no order from the guardians, nothing forcing me to do this. I had chosen to do it myself.


    ¡°How dare you?!¡± Blomst hiss with bared teeth.


    So much for no bickering.


    The grin on First¡¯s face weakens. ¡°Your love for your subjects is your weakness, Blomst. It blinds you.¡±


    Blomst¡¯s anger fills the hall like Couleur¡¯s had done when I first met her. Clover keeps his eyes on his guardian and won¡¯t avert them, but the crevices in his face tell me he feels the same wrath hang in the air.


    First laughs, but before he has any chance of saying something, Liria speaks for the first time since she stepped into the hall, ¡°We cannot charge someone for a crime without evidence.¡± She  turns to Blomst. "Nor can we defend anyone. Clover can speak for himself.¡±


    ¡°All in due time,¡± says Vrana.


    ¡°I rather deal with it now. If that is okay with you?¡± Clover says.


    They exchange gazes and Vrana makes a hand gesture.


    Clover steps forward, I can no longer see what he¡¯ll think, if he knows that it is I that have messed up.


    "One month ago in human time, you met with the Fox and discussed the Raven. Is that correct?" Vrana asks.


    ¡°It is.¡±


    My stomach burns.


    ¡±Why is it that this was never brought to Blomst?¡± Cerberus asked, his voice darker and harder than it usually is.


    ¡°Uncertainty for the most part. Some of it was fear. I wanted to know what he was doing and what plans he had. I didn¡¯t want to expose him to any danger unless I felt that it was necessary.¡±


    First laughs bitterly. ¡°If you understood how much damage this man could have done under the time you knew where he was but said nothing.¡±


    He neither laughs nor smiles. He¡¯s more tense and I see and feel the pure wrath in his face. And worry ¨C he¡¯s genuinely worried what one soul wanderer could cause.


    I try to tell myself that the worry and wrath I feel isn¡¯t my own. It crawls into my skin and confuses me.


    ¡°And what have you found out?¡± Vrana asks.


    ¡°Nothing yet.¡±


    ¡±And what were you planning once you got the answers? Would you visit the world he was in?¡± Cerberus asks.


    Clover shakes his head.


    ¡°Of course he wouldn¡¯t seek out Lyathus without our permission. Clover is well aware of the danger that awaits in abandoned worlds. I don¡¯t like what you¡¯re suggesting, Cerberus,¡± Blomst says.


    ¡°I¡¯m not suggesting anything. It¡¯s a question to a man that we¡¯re suspecting are cooperating with a forsaken soul wanderer.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been in Lyathus. Nor have I spoken to the Raven, or the Fox after I first met him at the well.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s easy to say such things, Clover. But are they true?¡± Liria asks.


    She and Saturn are the only two who has held their emotions in control. Even Vrana has a worry that hangs over him and pollutes the air.


    ¡°The only way for me to get to Lyathus would be through the Fox, and I¡¯m not so sure he¡¯d let me go once I was there. Like I said before ¨C I have not been in contact with any of them after the meeting at the well.¡±


    First scoffs. ¡°But you wanted to know what they were planning? This plea of yours isn¡¯t holding.¡±


    Clover clenches his fists. ¡°The Raven meant a lot to me, and it played a role in why I never said anything. I can admit that. If he is a threat and has stolen the artifact, then I swear on everything that I am that I will break him myself if you so command me to do so.¡±


    Sun¡¯s face grimaces and she throws a hasty glance at Clover.


    ¡°Noble. If your words are true,¡± Saturn says, his voice as indifferent as ever.


    ¡°Take me to the well, then you can see I¡¯m not lying.¡±


    ¡°Alright then, we¡¯ll take you to the well tomorrow,¡± Vrana begins. ¡°Before we send them out. Then we can determine if what he says is the truth.¡±


    Cerberus grips the pulpits tightly with both of his hands. ¡°Vrana, I beg of you to think this through. This is beyond senseless!¡±


    The others seem as confused as I am. The unfamiliar soul wanderer takes a step forward and the brown middle-aged face is contorted with frustration.


    ¡°Where are you sending us? This entire meeting has been ill thought-out. You take us here without explanation and expect us to watch while you argue amongst yourselves?¡±


    "All in due time, Sage," says Vrana.


    Sage shakes his head. "No. We have waited long enough. Tell me why we''re here, why we have to stand and watch as you decide the fate of a soul wanderer I don''t even know.¡±


    ¡°Because we had little choice or time, we had to put the meetings together to one,¡± Liria says and ignores the other guardians¡¯ glares. ¡°We have our own problems that needs to be solved as soon as possible. And in a way, they could be connected. That¡¯s why you¡¯re here, but we couldn¡¯t ignore what Orchid saw by the well. I apologize that we took you all in at the same time. We had no choice in the matter.¡±


    ¡±Yet you have time to argue,¡± Nine says.


    First scoffs, a slight warning to his soul wanderer. I expect Nine to say nothing else, that he¡¯ll take a step back to show respect for his guardian, but he doesn¡¯t. Nine takes a few steps forward instead, so he stands next to Clover. First lowers his eyebrows and moves his jaw and mouth in a tense motion.


    "If you''re short on time, you hardly show it with your endless family squabbles."


    First observes Nine with an uncomfortable calmness, it surprises me he¡¯s able to stay put. Even Sage seems surprised by his sudden courage.


    Vrana breaks the silence with a laugh. It¡¯s not bitter, he seems amused by it. He turns to First and smiles, in a way that¡¯s clearly supposed to get under his skin. First¡¯s face darkens.


    ¡°Interesting soul wanderer you have there, First.¡±


    First looks down at Nine. ¡°Very interesting, indeed.¡±


    The words are poisonous and foul. Nine finally takes a few steps back like he just remembered who he was defying.


    ¡°Nine is right. We''ve wasted far too much time on our ... family disputes. The reason why you¡¯re here, Sage, is because we¡¯ve found the location of a lost artifact, the mask of Lyndova. It is in a distorted world called Pyrgous,¡± says Vrana.


    ¡°Is this where you¡¯re planning on sending us, to fetch a mask?¡± Sage asks.


    ¡°Yes. The darkness is devouring the world, destroying everything it touches. If it reaches the mask, it¡¯s lost forever. We believe that the mask is what the Raven will seek out next. We don¡¯t want it in the wrong hands, but letting it be entirely destroyed by the darkness is also unacceptable. We¡¯ll send you out there to grab it before the thief or the darkness takes it.¡±


    I¡¯ve never heard about this before. Not the darkness nor the mask of Lyndova, yet not a single one of the other soul wanderers asks about it.


    Sun casts a disapproving glance at the guardians. "You plan to send us straight into the darkness?"


    ¡°We don¡¯t have a lot of choice,¡± Couleur says.


    ¡°You can go there yourselves.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± First scoffs. ¡°We¡¯ll be like magnets for the vile emptiness.¡±


    ¡°With our presence we¡¯ll only hasten the process of worlds that has gone that far into distortion,¡± Saturn adds.


    Sun quiets down, but I can still see the clear worry behind the blue eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯ll leave tomorrow. The mirror I gave Orchid will help you find the way to the mask. And once Clover has been tested, and if what he says is true, he¡¯ll join,¡± Vrana says.


    A wave of anger washes over us and Cerberus¡¯ only eye lit up of determination. ¡°I ask that you¡¯ll think through who you¡¯ll send. Clover has been accused of both a serious theft and cooperation with a forsaken soul wanderer. And Orchid hasn¡¯t been in the Realm long enough to even have a feeling of it, it¡¯s foolish to send them away!¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not your soul wanderers to forbid from going, Cerberus,¡± Blomst says.


    ¡°You¡¯re making a mindless mistake! Can¡¯t you see the problems you¡¯ll cause us?!¡±


    ¡°Orchid has done exceptionally well with the orders I¡¯ve given her,¡± Vrana says. ¡°And Blomst doesn¡¯t seem to mind. Besides, Saphir¡¯s mirrors are rare and few in between, do you know anyone else that has used them that we have access to? Do we have the time to teach another soul wanderer when I have one here that I¡¯ve already taught? You know very well the more you use it, the more you see. And if Clover can prove that what he says is true, then he can join them. He does after all have experience in distorted worlds.¡±


    I don¡¯t know what Vrana is planning, why he is lying and sending me out with the others. But I try to look confident where I stand, like I accept that they send me out on whatever this mission is. But everyone else ¨C even Sage and Nine ¨C have turned pale.

 Chapter 40

    When the meeting is over everyone leaves the hall, and Clover ignores me as he passes by. Sun gives me a worried glance and I have a feeling it isn''t about Clover, but about what we''re doing tomorrow. Pyrgous. That''s what they had called the world. A world devoured by darkness ¨C whatever that meant. No one had explained. No one wanted to talk about it.


    When I''m heading towards the Citadel''s exit I''m approached by another skeleton with an animal-skull as a head. One I''ve never seen before. It looks similar to Wolf''s cranium but smaller. It''s dressed entirely in white, fitting disturbingly well on the bony body.


    "Soul wanderer Orchid?"


    "Yeah?"


    "Guardian Cerberus has asked you to accompany me. He wants to see you. Please follow me."


    I follow it back into the long and narrow corridors of the citadel.


    I had never seen Cerberus react as strongly as he did in that meeting hall. He had always seemed like one of the calmest guardians, but today I had seen another side of him.


    I love our worlds. There is nothing I wouldn''t do for them. That was what Cerberus had said by the well. I understand the worry he had over the fact that the other guardians ¨C except First ¨C accepted Clover''s defense so easily.


    "What does he want?"


    "To speak of Pyrgous. Among other things," the skeleton answers in its booming voice.


    So there are other things he wants to talk about.


    The skeleton stops and steps aside while pointing to an open door. The room beyond is filled with murals but doesn''t have a single furniture. Cerberus is standing inside, looking out through a window. He turns his scarred face when I step into the room. He''s not smiling, doesn''t have the same warm-hearted face I''ve gotten used to. He looks angry, but the room doesn''t feel heavy and suffocating like he''s trying to keep the emotions in control to not scare me.


    "I am disappointed," he says and looks out of the window, with his hands clasped behind his back.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    I take a few more steps inside, it''s coal-black outside the only window in the room.


    "I gave you a lot. Too much."


    I try to find something to say, some excuse to why I lied. Something that could explain why I did what I did. But I cannot blame it on anything but myself, and even that would make it sound like I''m defending myself.


    "I expected you to tell me the truth. I showed a very vulnerable part of me, and you lied straight to my face."


    "Please forgive me," I whimper.


    I hate how weak and fragile I sound. I hate who I have become, that I bathe in my own vile self-pity when I''m the one who messes up and hurt other people.


    "Stop," he speaks harshly, "you have no right to ask for forgiveness. It''s not yours to give."


    I open my mouth but close it quickly again, no matter what I say it won''t make any difference.


    "I''ll ask you of one more thing. I cannot say I''m expecting much from you, not after this. But I don''t have a lot of other choices, specially when I cannot be there and take care of it myself. When you''re in Pyrgous, keep an eye on Clover. Tell Sage if you see the smallest sign that he''ll betray us. I''ve already spoken to him, but he has no earlier connections to Clover. It''s likely he wouldn''t notice anything."


    "If you think Clover would betray us, he might not even join us. If the well¨C"


    "I think he was honest with what he said in the meeting hall," he interrupts me, "he''ll pass the test tomorrow."


    "I don''t understand," I mumble as I think through each word I say, "if you trust what he says was the truth, then why would you think he''d betray you?"


    He turns his attention back to the dark view through the window, his eyes seem to follow something in the darkness, like he sees something completely else than what I do.


    "You humans are unpredictable. He can mean what he says now, but when he sees the Raven again he might think something else. It''s not easy to cut off such a strong bond those men had."


    "And why me? Why not Sun?"


    I had already let him down. But those are words I cannot say out loud.


    "I don''t trust Sun when it comes to the Raven either. She forces herself to hate him. Yet she truly does love him. Love makes you unpredictable ¨C illogical."


    "Do you think she''s a threat?"


    "No. Not yet. I''m not sure she''d even notice Clover if she saw the Raven there. Sun would let him get away, but she wouldn''t help him. She wouldn''t leave us."


    Something sullen covers his face.


    "Okay, if I suspect anything..."


    I cannot finish my sentence. It feels like I''ve gotten stuck in the middle. I''m not sure where I stand anymore, or what I should do. I''ve lied to him once before and made everything worse. If Clover really did try to betray us...


    "Thank you," he says but doesn''t sound thankful, he''s expecting that I''ll make him disappointed again. "You can leave."


    For a while I wonder if I should say something. Maybe promise him that I''ll do my best, but it would only feel like empty promises the more I think of it.


    So I say nothing at all.

 Chapter 41

    I¡¯m not surprised to see Clover in the corridor of doors with the other soul wanderers. After I had spoken to Cerberus, I had expected that what Clover said at the well would be accepted as truth. The other soul wanderers don¡¯t seem to care for his presence, but the tense facial expressions and postures are hard to miss.


    Vrana is standing at the end of the corridor where the darkness is like a vacuum. At the edge he has created a large gate ¨C one I have never seen before. It looks ancient and worn-out, yet at the same time invincible, like nothing can get through the thick, stone-like material.


    When he opens the gate the whirling darkness lays on the other side, yet it feels different from the other doors.


    Vrana and the other soul wanderers step through, one after another. I do the same ¨C if reluctantly. On the other side lays another corridor of doors. We¡¯re no longer standing on a lone stone platform in the air. We¡¯re surrounded by water, it reaches my calves, and underneath lays an old cobble-stone road with overgrown algae. They¡¯re moving slowly in the water as we trample onwards.


    ¡°Don¡¯t leave the road,¡± says Vrana when he leads us down the corridor. It¡¯s longer than the one we were just in. It makes me wonder how many abandoned worlds there are and how much of the Realm of the Dead I haven¡¯t seen, and never will.


    It¡¯s dark and a slight mist hangs over the water, a stale taste finds it way to my mouth. The air is tickling my skin as the sound of feet trampling in water echoes in the darkness.


    We finally reach the gate that Vrana has been looking after. It¡¯s entirely black, with eerie towers carved into the dark stone. I can feel something when I walk up the stairs. It turns my stomach and the stale taste in my mouth turns fouler. Vrana stands in front of the gate, I cannot see his face but I feel the unpleasant feeling that¡¯s seeping out of him, the absolute terror he feels to stay this close to the door.


    Vrana turns around and sweeps his eyes over us, he gives me a pitiful expression. The others look uncomfortable, but they have something in their eyes that tells me that they¡¯ve gone through this before, and they know what is awaiting.


    ¡°Orchid,¡± Vrana begins and it¡¯s impossible to not notice the exhausted voice, ¡°some rules for worlds that have reached this amount of distortion. Don¡¯t touch the darkness. If it starts moving faster, run. The only exit is the same gate you entered through. You cannot create doors in these worlds, so if it¡¯s falling apart then aim to get to the main gate as fast as possible. Don¡¯t trust anything but yourselves, the distortion twists the worlds. It¡¯s not like it was when it was whole.¡±


    He takes a deep breath.


    ¡°If the world falls apart and you haven¡¯t reached the mask then you run back. There¡¯s no point to pay with your existence if it¡¯s impossible to reach it.¡±


    ¡°And if it isn¡¯t impossible?¡± Sage asks.


    Vrana¡¯s mouth tightens. ¡°Then do whatever you can to grab it. Good luck. I¡¯ll be waiting for you here.¡±


    Vrana walks down the stairs while we stay at the two highest steps.


    Sage pulls a hand over the gate and his face grimaces, he moves it further down towards the handle and lets it lay there for a few seconds before he opens it. I turn away when a hot and thick gust of wind hits my eyes. Vrana automatically takes a few steps back, almost outside of the broad cobble-stone road. He takes a deep and shaky breath, and the fear I feel from him increases as the door stands wide-open.


    Sun grabs my wrist, and the vile air hangs over her face as an almost transparent veil. She leads us through the darkness when the others have already stepped through, but just as we cross the threshold, I hear Vrana take another desperate breath.


    The air is repulsive. It feels like hundreds of insects are crawling and bathing in a thick layer of oil covering my skin. I swallow hard and blink away the tears that has formed in the corner of my eyes.


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    Once upon a time this world could have been beautiful. But now it¡¯s horrid. An unending darkness covers most part of the sky. An oil-like smoke crawls out of its depths and hangs over the city in the distance. The rest of the sky is covered in brown, thick clouds. The city consists of hundreds of towers, they look like dark spears sticking up from the ground, with the tips pointing towards the sky. Part of the city has already been engulfed by the darkness that is closing in like a giant, breaching wall.


    Sun lets go of my wrist and takes a few steps across the dead grass. She looks at the city in the distance, and on the strange, naked forest below us. The darkness is moving. Not fast, not like it¡¯s about to devour the rest of the city it has begun ¨C but like it is alive.


    ¡°How long?¡± Sun asks and the voice sounds more fragile than it usually does, I barely recognize it.


    Sage looks down at the city from the hill and then at the living darkness. ¡°With that threatening us, I¡¯d say a day or two. We¡¯re going to have to rest when it weighs us down.¡±


    And weighing us down it does. I cannot stop staring at the way it moves. It is different from the whirling darkness. This moves more like water.


    ¡°Can we even handle two days?¡± Clover asks.


    Nine shakes his head slightly. ¡°I doubt that. We¡¯ll have to take short breaks and continue even if we don¡¯t have the energy.¡±


    I¡¯m not sure how we¡¯d be able to do that. We haven¡¯t been here long and I already feel the exhausted feeling I had seen in Vrana¡¯s face. My feet feels as heavy as lead and for each step I take, it feels like my entire soul is fighting against me.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± I ask.


    ¡°We walk as far as we can, and rest for thirty minutes or an hour when we can no longer continue,¡± Sage says.


    The confident and harsh voice I had heard in the meeting hall is no longer there, now he reminds me of a little boy despite his middle-aged appearance. There¡¯s something fragile in all of us. We have been stripped to the very core, where all the walls and defenses we built have crumbled, all that remains is an exhausted fear we cannot hide.


    I tear away my eyes from the sky and follow the others down the steep hill. I have to put all my attention to my thighs to not stumble. For each step it¡¯s like I¡¯m knee-deep in mud and for each breath a part of the suffocating, foul-tasting air finds its way into my lungs.


    We finally reach the end of the hill, where the dead forest begins. The trees have grown into each other in strange, twisted ways and is covering the dark sky with its thick branches. It feels like an eternity when we wander the forest, and the closer we come the city and the darkness the more twisted the trees become. They grow into each other, and into or over the ground. Some of them are twisted around each other like two snakes. A few of the crooked ones reminds me of humans¡¯ expressions of pure terror, they¡¯ll haunt my dreams if we¡¯re ever able to get out of here.


    Clover is the first one to fall. He manages to catch himself with his hands scraping against the dead leaves on the muddy path.


    I quickly help him up on his feet again and he mumbles a quick, ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°Let me,¡± Nine says and grabs one of Clover¡¯s arms and pulls it over his shoulders.


    I take a step back and watch them as Nine and Clover limps across the road and in-between two twisted trees.


    ¡°Sage. We need to rest,¡± Nine breathes heavily.


    Sage nods, likely too exhausted to answer with words. Nine helps Clover down under the infused trees and sits himself down on the muddy leaves, with not a care in the world that it dirties and soaks his jeans. Clover pushes a muddy hand against his throat.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Sage asks and sits down next to Nine, but the dark eyes focus on Clover.


    Clover pushes the elbows against his knees and touches his forehead. ¡°I can barely breathe. I had forgotten how exhausting these places can be¡­ It¡¯s been a while.¡±


    Sun and I also sit down. All we can do now is to wait until we can move again. Clover removes the flat cap and holds it with one of his hands, while he pulls the other one through the brown hair. I want to talk to him. Try to explain why I did what I did, but I cannot find the correct words ¨C if they even exist.


    We gather the energy to move on, but when it''s time to continue, it doesn''t feel any easier to get up.


    ¡°How is it?¡± Sun asks as we get back to the muddy path.


    I¡¯m not sure what to answer. It¡¯s written in all of our faces how exhausted we are.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been in worlds like these before,¡± Sun continues when I don¡¯t answer her, ¡°but it has never been this close.¡±


    The darkness is sucking out all our energy despite it being so far away. It watches us through the branches.


    ¡°And it has never been this exhausting,¡± she continues, each word is heavy with fatigue.


    ¡°How can we get back?¡± I breathe.


    I feel more human than I have in a long time. At the same time, it feels foreign. I¡¯ve gotten used to be without feeling, pain and sweat. It differs from the dagger and the injury from the shattered soul. This feels more real.


    It takes a while before she answers, ¡°we will.¡±


    No explanation on how, nor does she sound confident over her own words.


    This will be our grave. I don¡¯t have to say it out loud, we all know it¡¯s a possibility.

 Chapter 42

    The forest is bigger than what we first suspected. We¡¯ve followed the darkness that we occasionally caught a glimpse of behind the bare, crooked branches. We thought that was the best strategy to move through the strange forest. But just like everything else here, the rules that might have worked in the living world rarely worked here. When we saw the same crooked tree with the horrifying face that made the hair on my arm rise, we realized we had been walking in circles.


    We split up. Sun and Sage in one group and me, Nine, and Clover in another. One group looks for a way out by creating circles, crosses, and arrows in the mud. The circles are the symbol for our base, while the crosses show us which way make us go in circles, and the arrows show us where we have already walked and how to find our way back to the base. The other group rest so they can take over once the first is too exhausted to continue.


    That the world makes us go in circles isn¡¯t the only thing I¡¯ve noticed. There¡¯s a forgotten ache in my stomach, one I haven¡¯t felt since I was alive, and I realize that it¡¯s hunger.


    And not to speak of the tiredness, that I need to sleep. I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s the world that creates the feeling of being human again or if it¡¯s the darkness. When Nine throws a slice of rye bread to me I guess it¡¯s the latter. I¡¯ve never been fond of it but when my stomach rumbles, I don¡¯t care what he gave me.


    ¡°It gives you more energy,¡± he says and takes a bite of his own slice.


    Clover has turned his back to us and is laying down on the muddy ground, with his head over a makeshift pillow of a pile of leaves. None of us are comfortable with sleeping on a hard, muddy ground, but all three of us are so exhausted that it doesn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I mumble and take a bite of the slice.


    I sit crisscrossed on the muddy ground and my head is aching. I think of the soft, welcoming bed in my childhood¡¯s room. I think it¡¯s the first time I long to return to the Eleven since I arrived at the Realm of the Dead.


    ¡°What is making me hungry?¡± I ask.


    I take another bite, this time a bigger one. A more desperate attempt to remove the aching hunger. Not that a single piece of bread without toppings could satiate this biting hunger, yet it was better than nothing.


    ¡°The darkness,¡± Nine answers, while touching the open wounds gently. ¡°I don¡¯t know why, but it¡¯s like it¡¯s fooling our souls that it has a body and makes us react.¡±


    ¡°Are you in any pain?¡±


    ¡°Just here,¡± he says and moves the shaky fingers away from the scars, ¡°in other worlds I cannot feel it at all.¡±


    I try to figure out if Clover has fallen asleep. The body looks tense, but you cannot relax here ¨C not entirely. Maybe not even when you sleep.


    I eat the rest of the slice of bread lay down on the ground once I¡¯m done. I¡¯m surprised when I feel the mud touch my skin. The longer I¡¯m here the more I feel, and it¡¯s overwhelming. How could I have gone my entire life without thinking of every little thing touching me? My sweater and my leggings against my skin, the muddy leaves and the feeling of the breadcrumbs on my fingers.


    When I close my eyes, it doesn¡¯t take long until sleep finds me. The exhaustion beats the biting hunger and the unpleasantness of the hard bed of leaves and mud.


    ****


    I awake by a sound, and when I open my eyes I see Sage make a cross with his foot by one of the arrows ¨C another road that leads us in circles.


    I sit up and instantly feel the throbbing ache throughout my body.


    ¡°Left and up are ruled out. No matter the directions in those regions we returned here,¡± he says, voice filled with exhaustion.


    His wrinkles seem to have been doubled since I saw him last. He stumbles towards a log and sits down. I pull leaves and mud out of my hair when Sun sits down next to Sage. She leans over with two shaky hands pushed against her face.


    Nine stands up and wipes away parts of the mud from his jeans and shirt. Clover has already gotten up.


    ¡°Then it¡¯s right and down that is left?¡± Clover asks.


    Sage gives him a weak nod.


    Clover looks at Nine and then at me, he makes a quick head movement and with tired dragging steps he continues towards our next attempt. I follow them, and despite sleeping I still feel exhausted.


    We only speak if we have to, if we notice something that feels different or if we end up at the same terrifying tree. We walk past the base five times, over and over again since each direction we take takes us straight back.


    Nine creates a fifth cross in front of one of the arrows further into the right region. My legs are aching for each step I take and each breath I take burns my chest. Clover leads us in another direction in hope that this one will lead us out of the forest and take us to the mask of Lyndova.


    We walk aimlessly for about half an hour until we step into a part of the world that is still covered in greenery ¨C one that reminds me of the gardens in the Citadel. In the middle stands a familiar structure, one that makes Clover¡¯s entire body tense.


    A well. It has the same shape as the one in the Eleven, instead of white material this well reflects its surroundings like a mirror. It¡¯s covered in cracks and the tower, that once aimed towards the sky, is cut off and lying half-hidden in the green grass.


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    We walk towards the well, and when we realize it¡¯s empty Clover relax as much as it¡¯s possible in this world.


    Nine touches the structure carefully and studies what had once been filled with the blue liquid. ¡°It¡¯s been empty for a while.¡±


    The blackness is fully visible now when the dead branches aren¡¯t hiding the sky. Nine looks at us with exhausted eyes, the pale face looks sick, like he¡¯s suffering from a fever.


    ¡°We can hopefully get out of the forest through here.¡± He takes a deep breath, and grimaces slightly. ¡°You two can wait here until I come back with Sun and Sage.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± I ask. ¡°You don¡¯t look so well.¡±


    ¡°Neither do you. I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Alright then, be careful.¡±


    He gives me another exhausted grimace and slowly makes his way back to the way with the arrows.


    Clover sits down on the well¡¯s reflecting surface and flexes his fingers in and out.


    ¡°Is it hurting?¡± I ask.


    He studies his hand. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Things still feel tense between us, and I cannot find the right words to even begin a natural conversation with him.


    ¡°You asked Nine the same thing,¡± he says and lets his hand lie still against one of his knees.


    So he wasn¡¯t sleeping.


    ¡°If it hurt.¡±


    He chuckles. It sounds bitter. I stare at him as he focuses on the overgrown grass in front of him.


    ¡°Here I am and feel bad for myself while Nine can feel the pain of his open cuts.¡± He sighs and clenches his fist again. ¡°When you¡¯re here I always say more than I should.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say, much more awkward than how I wanted it to come out.


    Clover turns his attention towards me, with a slight confusion but curiosity in his eyes.


    ¡°Why are you apologizing?¡±


    ¡°I should have kept what I saw at the well to myself, or I should have talked to you first. You¡¯ve avoided me so I thought¡­¡±


    I quiet down.


    He looks at me for a moment before he speaks, ¡°I¡¯m not mad about that. I understand why you had to tell the guardians about it, I would have done the same if I was you. I cannot say I liked that you saw and felt things I tried to keep hidden. I¡¯ve never liked having to feel the contracts that are mine, that includes you. The thought of someone doing the same thing to me is¡­ unpleasant. It feels intrusive. Besides, once you¡¯ve gotten a look into someone¡¯s head there¡¯s no going back. You might see things you wished you hadn¡¯t.¡±


    I have a feeling he isn¡¯t talking about the same situation anymore.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You were hiding so many things.¡± I take a deep breath, knowing I had to continue the lie Vrana had made. ¡°When Vrana came to me with his offer, I didn¡¯t accept it because I feared him. I accepted because I wanted to know what was going on. I was worried.¡±


    He sighs. ¡°I feel like there are better ways of finding out.¡±


    ¡°How? You were avoiding me. I was desperate, and I saw a way out. Maybe not the smartest one, but I didn¡¯t see any other option. By that time, I felt like I had already dug myself into a deep hole and,¡± I swallow, ¡°and Vrana had a way out. So I took it.¡±


    Clover starts to massage his hands, as he once again averts his gaze forward.


    ¡°Why did you keep everything a secret? I feel like I could have helped you if you¡¯d let me. Instead, you shut me out in a foreign world where I had no one else.¡±


    I know my words might have been harsh, but I felt it was better to have them said and heard than keeping them inside.


    ¡°Because I had no other choice. I didn¡¯t want to pull you into my mess, nor did I want to risk putting the Raven in any danger. Avoiding you was wrong, but you were pushing and pushing and I had to pull back. Frankly, I think it was for the better, even if I hadn¡¯t known the Raven was alive. I had been thinking a lot. I had been inside of your mind, seen and felt your thoughts and emotions. I saw a part that reminded me of an old self, and I wanted you to release it. So, I pushed. I should never have done that. I needed some time to myself to think of it all, to realize that part was never me, and therefore my ways might not work.¡±


    I recognize those thoughts all too well. It feels too far away now, but I remember that¡¯s how I was thinking when it came to Emma. I wanted to help her, wanted her to release the part that hurt her. The difference was I never understood her, not entirely. Clover, at the very least, had some understanding of my pain. Emma and I were never the same.


    As we both say nothing, we listen to the silence until it becomes unbearable.


    ¡°Do you think they¡¯re right? The guardians,¡± I finally say.


    ¡°About the Raven?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    He¡¯s silent for a while before he speaks, ¡°I don¡¯t know. I meant what I said, if the Raven truly is the one who stole the artifact, then I¡¯ll oppose him. But so far, they haven¡¯t given me any concrete evidence, just theories that doesn¡¯t hold up.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t either heard any evidence, just suspicions without any explanations on where they came from.


    ¡°I¡¯ve thought about what you said, about Artemis. I should have been honest with her from the start, at least to a certain degree.¡±


    ¡°Did you talk to her?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I told her everything before we left. These worlds, you never know if you¡¯ll leave them. I wanted to tell her the truth just in case. About me and the Raven, and the baggage I¡¯ve been carrying lately.¡±


    He looks deep in thought as he speaks, his eyes staring into nothing.


    ¡°What did she say?¡± I ask.


    Clover hesitates. ¡±She was upset, I had expected that. Mostly it was because it had taken me so long until I told her. She asked me to not keep everything inside, and to share what haunts me so she can help me. I think you and I might be very alike in that. I don¡¯t want anyone to see the worrying, hesitating version of me either.¡±


    There¡¯s a pensive tone to his voice.


    ¡°Clover,¡± I begin and take a deep breath, ¡°for what it¡¯s worth, you¡¯re right. It was intrusive of me to feel your thoughts and emotions.¡±


    He gives me an exhausted smile. ¡°Thank you¡­ I appreciate that.¡±


    We don¡¯t say much more and try to enjoy the only green and bright place we¡¯ll see for a while. Soon we¡¯ll have to leave it and return to dead ground and bare trees.


    When Nine comes back he has Sun and Sage with him, both of them look like they didn¡¯t get a lot of sleep. Their faces have gotten even more pale, and sweat is running down their temples. Sun stumbles forward and Sage take a shaky grip on her forearm and pull her up on her feet again. She mumbles a ¡°thank you¡± under heavy breaths. It''s only a matter of time until none of us will be able to move on and will trip over our own feet. We need to find the mask as soon as possible.


    Sun and sage sit down at the green grass and breathe deep, long breaths. Nine isn¡¯t doing any better, his pale face is covered in sweat.


    ¡°We can rest a few minutes; the air is clearer here. If only slightly,¡± Clover says.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time for that,¡± Nine answers. ¡°Any longer and we might not be able to return.¡±


    Sun shakes her head wildly, the blonde hair ¨C except the hair strands that are glued to the sweaty cheeks ¨C moves around her. ¡°I cannot take another step like this.¡±


    Nine gives her a harsh but worried glance. ¡°Ten minutes, then we have to continue.¡±


    Nine sits down at the well and pushes a shaky hand against the sweaty face. Sage focuses on the severed tower behind us, the dark brown eyes continue upwards towards the black sky. He separates his lips and the crease between his eyebrows deepens. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut together and lays down on the grass breathing heavily, likely trying to gather the energy to move forward.


    As we all do. It will only grow worse the closer we get. I¡¯m not even sure what the mask is for, not entirely. Why it¡¯s so important to find. It cannot be destroyed, yet it cannot be taken by someone else.


    When ten minutes has passed Nine gets up. He gives Sun and Sage the last two pieces of rye bread. They¡¯re more tired than us, the little sleep they got couldn¡¯t have helped. They don¡¯t speak of it. We all know how exhausted they are, yet they force themselves to continue.


    And we let them do it.

 Chapter 43

    It almost takes an hour until we find our way out. The closer we got to the exit, the denser the forest grew. The twisted faces got worse, eventually they didn''t even seem human. They never became monsters like I expected, instead they became twisted and odd. They were faces¡ªthat much I could see, but no matter how much I stared at them I could not understand what they really looked like. Like it was me who had lost my mind and that it wasn''t the trees'' faces that were wrong. ¡°Don''t look at them,¡± Sun had whispered when she noticed how I couldn''t tear my eyes from them.


    When we finally reach a gravel road outside of the forest it doesn¡¯t feel any better. In front of us lies dead fields and brown hills, most of them engulfed by the darkness. The black smoke-like oil hangs in the air above the fields. Occasionally fat drops of an oily substance fall down upon the fields and colors parts black to the point where it¡¯s so dark it looks like an empty void. Being this close creates a heavy and painful feeling in my chest.


    ¡°Vile,¡± I mutter as my mouth is filled with the taste of the decaying darkness.


    ¡°Come, we cannot stay here,¡± Nine says in an exhausted voice that sounds just as twisted as the rest of the world.


    Sun stares at the darkness with tired and enraged eyes; Sage takes a steady grip around her arm and pull her lightly to make her move. She tears away her gaze from the darkness and Sage lets go as she slowly moves across the gravel road. The blue dress, that had been beautiful and immaculately clean the day before, is now covered in dirt and mud. The blonde hair is tangled and unkempt like the rest of us. No one looks like we usually do. We¡¯re all covered in thick layers of dirt.


    The dark city doesn¡¯t look more welcoming as we stand outside of its gigantic black gate. It stands ajar, as if someone had left it open since they abandoned the world. The sharp towers peek out from behind the walls, only to disappear where the darkness touches them. I''m thankful that the gate is open, no matter how nasty it looks. At least it''s better than us having to look for a way in.


    Sun takes a glimpse in between the gate¡¯s gaps. ¡°It¡¯s big enough for us to get through. The city is still large despite the darkness taking a large part of it.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your plan?¡± Sage asks.


    ¡°We split again.¡±


    ¡°That sounds like a bad idea. Neither you nor Sage got a lot of sleep, and I have my doubts either of you will make it through this,¡± Clover says.


    Sun gives him a serious look. ¡°I¡¯m aware. That¡¯s why,¡± she takes a deep breath, ¡°Sage and I will be in different groups.¡±


    ¡°Have you planned the groups?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Nine and I are the ones who have been in these worlds the most. Despite my exhaustion, I think it¡¯s best to keep us in separate groups. Sage should be with Nine, and my group will be Orchid and Clover.¡±


    She looks at us and pushes a hand against the gate to not fall.


    ¡°Can you even walk?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re underestimating me, Clover. Did the Raven tell you nothing about me? I can push myself to the extreme if I have to.¡±


    She pulls back her arm.


    ¡°Don¡¯t push yourself to exhaustion,¡± Clover says.


    By her painful facial expression, I¡¯m sure she has already pushed herself way beyond that.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll be fine. One more thing¡­ We need to keep in contact.¡±


    She extends her shaky arms and shuts her eyes tightly. Two jewelry appears in her palms. It¡¯s the same ones with the red jewel in the middle of the iron web that Sun had bought in Arkaros. She had mentioned them earlier in the forest when we made up our first groups. That it was important to save them until we really needed them since they didn¡¯t last infinitely. This is our last chance, and the perfect time to use them.


    She opens her eyes and takes a big breath. ¡°Orchid, your hand.¡±


    I extend my arm and she places one of the jewels in my palm.


    ¡°Why me?¡±


    ¡°You know how to use Saphir¡¯s mirror. It would be better that you¡¯re in contact with Nine¡¯s group and tell them what you¡¯re seeing.¡±


    Sun gives Nine the other.


    ¡°And how do I use it?¡±


    ¡°Put it in your mind. Each thought you want to send over to Nine, he¡¯ll hear. You¡¯ll be able to hear him as well.¡±


    I close my eyes and my entire body aches as I focus on the depth of my mind. When I open my eyes again the jewelry is gone.


    Do you hear me?


    The voice echoes in my mind. Quieter than my own inner voice, and I can hear two languages speak at the same time. Swedish and the same language I heard in the crystal hall. Each word is crystal clear and impossible to mistake. I don¡¯t have to look for long until I find Nine, like a part of him exist inside of my mind. It doesn¡¯t take a lot to send over a thought: I hear you.


    Sun pushes herself through the gap between the broad gates. It scares me that I don¡¯t know what will hide behind and what kind of memories I¡¯ll see with Saphir¡¯s mirror. Once Sun has gotten through it¡¯s Clover¡¯s turn, and once he has reached the other side I slide in  between the gates, and push my way through. I take a few steps back to allow the rest to get through.


    The tall towers have no windows nor doors, even if they once were likely used at homes for either soul wanderers or creatures. The ground is covered in wet red mud and it¡¯s touching the base of the coal black spires. I can see the darkness; it must have devoured half of the city already. Some of the towers are snapped in half, and are leaning towards the others. It looks like a part of the city has collapsed; I can see a large pit in the ground closer to the darkness. On the other side there¡¯s red stone-stairs, it leads up to another part of the city. The stairs are built into a cliff of the same color.


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    Both Nine and Sage have gotten out of the narrow gap and is looking up at the stairs. Nine turns to Sun, it looks like she¡¯s about to fall.


    ¡°Which way do you prefer?¡± He asks.


    Sun takes a long look at the stairs. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯d be able to get up that.¡±


    ¡°Then me and Sage will take the top part, and you three will take this area. Don¡¯t wander too close to the darkness.¡±


    ¡°Unless you have to,¡± Sage adds. ¡°Remember we¡¯re here for a reason.¡±


    Sun nods. ¡°Take it easy, Nine¡­ Sage. And keep contact by the jewelry I gave you. I¡¯d prefer if we all got out of here unscathed.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the plan¡±, Nine says and heads up the stairs.


    ¡°If you notice that the darkness is moving, let Nine know right away,¡± Sage says and makes a gesture with his head towards Nine.


    ****


    The city is narrower the further in you get, where the spear-like towers are many and almost as endlessly black as the darkness they¡¯re reflecting. The material they¡¯re made of reminds me of the stone tablets in the Eleven, but darker and not as shiny. They¡¯re not reflecting everything. I couldn¡¯t see myself in them until I was close enough. We were the only thing it reflected. Not the muddy ground nor the other towers. Just us and the darkness no matter how far it might have been. Maybe the towers had been mirrors, and when the world started distorting it twisted the towers in similar way it had changed the forest. It¡¯s hard to imagine how this place would have looked like before it was abandoned and the darkness came.


    I cannot shut out how my entire body is aching and how foul my mouth is tasting. I doubt that Sun and Clover has it any easier, if anything they¡¯re likely to have it worse. Sun isn¡¯t doing any better, she can barely walk and Clover had to put an arm around her waist to keep her up. She slowly moves forward while dragging her feet over the muddy ground.


    Have you found anything? The voice is as clear as before.


    Not yet. And you?


    Nothing yet. We¡¯re resting, Sage fell. And the mirror, have you seen something?


    Clover¡¯s grip around Sun becomes tighter as he gets her up on her legs again after they gave away. She puts an arm over his back and the fingers digs deeply into his shoulder.


    Not yet, I repeat. We are looking for a place with more space. Sun doesn¡¯t want me to waste energy on the narrower areas.


    Wait, he says and my mind goes quiet for a few seconds. I see you now. If you turn right in about four towers, towards the darkness, it will lead to a bigger area. You could use the mirror there. However, it¡¯s close to the darkness. Very close, so be careful.


    I look up at between the towers, Nine is standing on a bridge over a gap between the two divided areas of the upper parts of the city. Both Clover and Sun look like they¡¯re about to collapse. We pass one of the towers.


    Thank you for the information.


    ¡°In three towers, turn right,¡± I breathe.


    ¡°Towards the darkness?¡± Clover asks. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Bigger area. Nine is watching us.¡±


    I don¡¯t have the energy to explain any better, but Clover doesn¡¯t seem to care for a better explanation and quickens his speed.


    Do you see the big tower? Nine¡¯s voice echoes.


    The brown sky is hidden by a much broader tower. It doesn¡¯t quite fit in with the rest of the world. When we were at the hills overlooking the forest and city, I hadn¡¯t seen how strange it had looked. Now when I can see the details, how the tower is formed and the small red lights that covers its surface, I notice it looks futuristic.


    Yes. It¡¯s a bit hard to miss.


    We turn in between two towers.


    The tower is located on a black platform. It looks like some kind of city square.


    Perfect place to find memories, I take it?


    Exactly what I was thinking. Be careful.


    We continue through the alley and when we reach the other side, on a muddy platform made of stone slabs, both Sun and Clover fall to the ground. They crawl towards one of the towers and breathe deeply as they sit down with their back pushed against the wall.


    ¡°I can take over.¡±


    Clover shakes his head. ¡±Focus on the mirror. I can handle this. We just need to rest.¡±


    I don¡¯t believe him. It doesn¡¯t look like neither of them will be able to continue. Sun¡¯s head is hanging, if it wasn¡¯t for how violently her arms were shaking, I would think she had passed out. I want to ask them to stay here until either I or Nine have found the mask.


    ¡°Focus on the mirror,¡± Sun whispers and tenses her fists in an attempt to make them stop shaking.


    Her voice makes it sound like she¡¯s about to break into thousands of pieces. I close my eyes and focus on the mirror I¡¯ve laid somewhere in my mind. At the same time I send a thought to Nine. Sun isn¡¯t doing well.


    When I open my eyes the mirror covered in sapphires is in my hand.


    I figured as much. I don¡¯t think she can rest that close to the darkness. Sage isn¡¯t doing so well either, but I¡¯ve asked him to rest, he seems to be doing better.


    What should I do? I ask.


    Let Clover deal with it for now. You shouldn¡¯t stay that close to the darkness for too long or you won¡¯t be able to continue. Focus on finding a memory or a trace someone has left behind. Something with the mask.


    A large empty place lies before us, once there had to be something else but a muddy ground here.


    I raise my hand and look into the reflection that is staring back, in the same foreign way as before. It locks and I breathe in the suffocating, vile air through a deep breath. I¡¯m not sure what I¡¯m looking for ¨C or who. I cannot combat this the same way I had done when I was looking for Clover and the Fox, when I had a clear target. I turn the mirror and focuses on the empty area in front of me, on what it had once looked like. I think of the black tower as towers of mirrors, the stone streets crowded by soul wanderers and creatures.


    I take a deep breath when the entire area fills by shapes of blue-green air. Most of them are soul wanderer, but there are a few creatures, but their shapes aren¡¯t as visible. I hadn¡¯t seen creatures at the well despite seeing Azor there earlier. It had only been soul wanderers. I had specific people in mind the last time, so that could have been the reason, here I don¡¯t have the faintest idea which one could give me an answer. There¡¯s no strategy in which shape I choose in the blue-green crowd.


    My reflection¡¯s irises disappear behind my skull again, and only the whites are visible. Many of the shapes disappear, but some remain. A few of them are clearer, others are the same hollow shape of air. They¡¯re more visible than the first time. I cannot see small details, but the colors are stronger and the faces more tangible. They¡¯re still enshrouded in the blue-green storm. I can feel her, the soul wanderer I had chosen, but not as much as I had felt Clover at the well.


    They had said it was only a question of when, yet no one knew. Not even the guardians, they claimed everything was under control. She didn¡¯t believe that. She had seen it, how No¨ª had collapsed after Kailysta had withered. Pyrgos would have the same fate if they didn¡¯t find the Nightguard, if he had withered it was only matter of time until the well would crack and dry out. Matter of time. Time¡­ They said he would return.


    It is hard to understand, like something is missing or is between me and the memories, interrupting the process. The darkness might have something to do with it, it¡¯s presence could have twisted the memories, making them hard to understand. I focus on the scene in front of me. I don¡¯t feel as connected to this memory and woman as I had felt towards Clover¡¯s. There¡¯s too much missing.


    It would crack. Disappear.


    And the darkness would come into this world too. It was only a matter of time. No¨ª had been lost. The kings imprisoned and he was sleeping. Eternity. Nothing. A punishment he had created. A treason. For our choice, for theirs. Death.


    It becomes more and more confusing and distorted.


    And then it begins again.


    I lower the mirror and wipe away the sweat from my face.


    ¡°Did you find anything?¡± Clover asks.


    He is still leaning against the jet-black tower, one hand hanging over his knee. Mud covers his neck and forehead; his brown eyes are exhausted, and he struggles to keep them open.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. It¡¯s too distorted by the darkness. I¡¯m having issues understanding it.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he mutters. ¡°So, you didn¡¯t find anything that could be of use?¡±


    ¡°I found a few things. Names and titles. Most was just words, feelings and sentences I just didn¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°See if you can find something else,¡± says Sun. Her eyes are gently closed. ¡°Anything¡­ Better to gather as much information as you can.¡±

 Chapter 44

    I choose a few soul wanderers and experience their memories. Even if they seem more tangible for each new shape I choose, they¡¯re all distorted. In each memory a few things are repeated. Names of cities, creatures or soul wanderers that has withered, the kings and a punishment.


    It takes a lot of energy to experience these memories, I can barely stand on my legs as I lower the mirror for the tenth time. When I bring it up again to begin my eleventh shape I fall to the muddy ground.


    ¡°Rest,¡± Clover says.


    ¡±We don¡¯t have time for that.¡±


    I try to stand up again, but my legs give away.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be an idiot,¡± he snaps through gritted teeth. ¡°You¡¯re no use if you push yourself to the point of total exhaustion!¡±


    I glare at him before I put the mirror into my mind. Sun slowly turns her face towards me.


    ¡°So? Anything we can use?¡±


    ¡°Nothing that can lead us to the mask. But it repeats things. Do you know anything about a creature or maybe a soul wanderer by the name of Kailysta or the Nightguard?¡±


    She shakes her head and grimaces. ¡°No. But those names don¡¯t sound like soul wanderers. Creatures? Maybe. The Nightguard,¡± she takes a deep breath, ¡°sounds like a title.¡±


    ¡±And the kings? They¡¯re often mentioned. You spoke of them in Arkaros, no?¡±


    She glares at me through heavy eyes and barely moves as she scoffs. ¡°The three kings?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡±They¡¯re a legend.¡± She quiets. ¡°¡­ Or it should be a legend. Are you telling me it¡¯s not?¡±


    I can¡¯t answer that. I knew nothing of the kings, the possibility of it being just a legend was still there. The kings they spoke of didn¡¯t have to be three kings. Besides, the memories were too distorted to trust.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, does it?¡± Clover says and rolls his eyes as he pushes his back further against the tower to not slip down. ¡°The legend is thousands of years old. We need to focus on finding the mask and get out of here before the darkness destroys us.¡±


    If it began moving now, we¡¯d likely not be able to make it out. Clover is right. If the kings are a legend or not is something we have to figure out later. We have to find the mask and get out of here.


    I focus on the mirror in my mind, and I call it forth to my hand. The same ache moves through my body as it finally appears in my palm.


    ¡°You have to rest, Orchid,¡± Sun says.


    I sit crisscrossed on the ground as I extend my shaky hand with the mirror. It feels much heavier when I have no energy left.


    ¡°I can rest when we¡¯ve left this fucking world,¡± I mutter and stare into the green eyes in the mirror.


    Neither Sun nor Clover stops me.


    ****


    It feels like I¡¯ve been sitting on the muddy ground, with the mirror in my hand, for hours. I cannot stop shaking. Memory after memory says the same thing. A fear that this world will collapse, that the darkness will come. They had already known that it would be coming before they abandoned it ¨C it had been the very reason why they had left it.


    Nine occasionally checks in and asks me how we are and what I¡¯ve seen. He doesn¡¯t know anything about the Nightguard or Kailysta. That Sun who is the oldest of us hasn¡¯t heard about it makes me doubt that Sage would know anything either. Yet I ask. Nine gives me the answer I had expected. He had not heard of them, just the legend about the three kings.


    I¡¯ve lost count on how many shapes I¡¯ve seen and felt. When I can no longer keep my arm up, Clovers sits down next to me and gently grabs my arm and holds it steady.


    Shape after shape gives me the same information. Kings. Punishment. Darkness. Kailysta being withered. The Nightguard¡­ But nothing of the mask.


    An aggressive cough builds up in my throat, I try to keep it under control. Clover quickly tears the mirror out of my hand and the scene dies out.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± I ask between the coughing fits.


    My entire throat feels like it¡¯s on fire.


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    ¡°It¡¯s enough.¡±


    I grimace. ¡°We¡¯re going to die here.¡±


    He stands up and gives the mirror to Sun. ¡°Keep it until she can use it again.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t treat me like a child.¡±


    Clover sits down at the tower.


    ¡°Rest, Orchids,¡± Sun orders me.


    I crawl towards them, waves of pain shooting up my arms.


    Anything new? Nine¡¯s words echo in my mind.


    I lean towards the jet-black wall and close my eyes. They took the mirror from me.


    Are you overworking yourself?


    I don¡¯t answer.


    You cannot do anything if you work yourself to the bone, Orchid. You need to rest like the rest of us.


    I know, I send back. I¡¯m just frustrated that I make no progress no matter how much I try.


    It doesn¡¯t matter how many shape¡¯s memories I witness. It isn¡¯t bringing us any closer to the mask. At this rate I¡¯m exhausting myself for no reason. I cough and push a shaky hand towards my mouth.


    Rest, he says, a bit harsher this time, and when you can walk again move on to the tower I spoke of. If you haven¡¯t found anything there yet you¡¯re unlikely to ever find it.


    I open my eyes and stare at the large tower, one of the smaller towers hides it from this angle. I can still see some of the red lights. Nine is right, if there is any answers of where the mask is located it¡¯d likely be there, unless it has already been taken by the darkness. Then it won¡¯t matter how many shape¡¯s memories I witness.


    The only thing filling the silence are our heavy breaths, but this world is uncomfortable silent. In a desperate need to break the silence I tell them what Nine had said, and that our next objective is the futuristic tower.


    ****


    It doesn¡¯t get any better with time. If we keep sitting this close to the darkness ¨C that¡¯s barely fifteen meters away from us ¨C we won¡¯t be able to gather the energy we need to keep going. Clover is the healthiest of us, he could reach the futuristic tower, but only with one of us.


    Sun stares at me with a gaze that¡¯s entirely drained of all energy. Her eyes are blank, they almost look dead. I know what she wants to say before she opens her mouth.


    ¡°Leave me here.¡±


    Clover quickly turns his head. ¡°Are you insane?!¡±


    ¡±You¡¯re not going anywhere if you have to drag me along¡­ Admit it, by this rate I¡¯ll only slow you down.¡±


    She coughs, it makes her shake uncontrollably, like she¡¯s sick with fever.


    ¡°When you¡­ have found the mask,¡± she swallows and her eyes are half-open, ¡°come and get me.¡±


    I doubt she¡¯d be able to hold onto then.


    ¡°We have to move her.¡±


    ¡°And who will do that?¡± she mutters hoarsely. ¡°Clover needs to save his energy¡­ if he¡¯s supposed to take you to the tower¡­ and you¡­ you can barely stand.¡±


    ¡°Orchid, ask Nine or Sage to get her. Now.¡±


    He stands up on unsteady legs, for a moment he struggles to keep his balance until he straightens out his back while grimacing.


    Where are you? I ask in my mind.


    Clover takes a steady grip on my arm and helps me up from the muddy stoneground. Each millimeter of my legs are aching when I put weight on them. He lays another arm around my waist and keeps me up, I have to lean against him not to fall to the ground.


    A dead garden and a greenhouse of black glass. We¡¯ve also found some stairs leading down somewhere, our plan is to explore it and see where it might lead.


    We¡¯re in the same place as before. One of you have to get over here.


    Why?


    Sun closes her eyes. ¡°Go.¡±


    We can¡¯t bring Sun with us. I can barely walk myself. Get her.


    Clover slowly moves forward through the open street. I grip the muddy jacket and pull the heavy feet across the mud.


    I¡¯ll send Sage.


    ¡°Sage will come for her,¡± I breathe to Clover whose grip gets tighter with shaky, clumsy hands.


    ¡°Good.¡±


    I don¡¯t dare to turn around ¨C if I even could physically do it. I¡¯m scared it will feel even more like we¡¯re abandoning her. I¡¯m praying that Sage will be there in time.


    For each clumsy step we take the more my body aches, but we continue forward. Across mud and stone slabs, through narrow alleys until we can see it clearly in front of us. The base of the large tower and the black platform that is formed like a hexagon. A few more steps and I can take out the mirror. Fifty? Sixty?


    I stare at the gleaming black platform. It¡¯s unnaturally clean compared to the rest of the world. I feel no joy or relief, instead a feeling of pure anxiety has arisen inside me.


    ¡°What is this?¡± I ask.


    A vile pain in the depth of my stomach arises at the same time my words leave my mouth. Clover¡¯s grips tightens as he slows down.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he breathes.


    He can feel it too, the anxiety crawling up our backs. I want to ask him to turn around, that the mask is not worth this.


    I don¡¯t want to see nor hear what awaits on the platform. We continue forward towards the large tower and towards something that has been for a very long time.


    I can feel the hunger within me, it has felt it in an eternity, this need to devour something ¨C anything it can get its long fingers around. It¡¯s tired of mud, glass, and darkness. Its hunger is unwavering, it seeks each part of its body. Something has kept it alive all these years and let the hunger build in anticipation.


    My stomach aches and my mouth salivate when I smell our own scent.


    ¡°Don¡¯t trust it. Be on your guard,¡± Clover whispers.


    Our breaths are different. Not caused by the exhaustion and ache that still sits deep within our bones. We have a horrid excitement within us, like we are also lying in wait for something.


    We move slowly up the stairs to the platform. I push my fingers harder into Clover¡¯s tender back and lick my lips. It¡¯s hard to think, to shut out the hunger that makes my entire jaw ache. I open my mouth and slowly move my jaw in an attempt to remove the pain from my teeth. It doesn¡¯t help and only makes me feel starved.


    When we reach the platform Clover lets go of me and I fall down on my knees. He¡¯s looking around, his entire body stiff. I move my lips carefully with shaking fingers. I want to shut out the disgusting pictures I see in my mind ¨C the ones it keeps sending me over and over again.


    Clover takes a step back and I force myself to stare at the horror that is creeping out from behind the tower. It¡¯s still in my head, sending me grotesque pictures, while its slowly pulling itself forward. Its arms are unnaturally long, malnourished yet muscular. Jet-black like the rest of the body. Its lower body looks like a fat larva that has been chopped off in the middle, causing black pieces of meaty strings to be dragged behind it. The torso looks human with an unnatural long and thin neck. I cannot see the face. It¡¯s hidden by a red-golden mask. The only thing visible is the mouth, a bloody gape that looks more like a hole. The hunger it feels when it watches us is colossal.


    Clover takes another step back. ¡°Run.¡±

 Chapter 45

    I don''t run. I sit on the black platform as if I were petrified. Maybe of fear, or it has taken itself so far into my mind that it won''t let me flee.


    Clover isn''t running either. He keeps his eyes stuck to the creature and the mask we''ve come so far for. I cannot see how we could ever get our hands on it without being ripped apart.


    It drags itself slowly forward and leaves dark red handprints on the clean platform. A bloody trail is also left by the mutilated body. Clover bends down and grabs my arm, his eyes never leaves the creature. He pulls me back up on unsteady legs.


    "Sorry, sorry," the creature says in an unnatural dark voice.


    It extends its hand, spreads its long fingers and pushes it against the platform to pull itself closer. I don''t dare to avert my gaze.


    It extends its other hand and leans back its head and towards the side in a way that reminds me of a curious dog. The creature is everything else but a pet, it would ¨C and will ¨C tear us apart. The hunger is still deep within me, my mouth salivates as its thinking of how it can have us, how it can tear us apart and watch us bleed, how it can...


    "Break your spines," it finishes for me.


    It moves its bloody hand against its gape, a thin but long tongue finds its way out of its mouth and moves against the fingers.


    And I understand why the platform is so clean, why a part of its body is missing and that we''re never leaving this place. We''re going to die here.


    My eyes fill up with tears, almost bursting down my cheeks. I try to get my legs to move, but it''s like I''m frozen.


    I need to flee. Have to flee. Even if it''s impossible, even if I know that the creature will tear me apart the moment I turn my back towards it.


    It''s close now, just a few more meters and it will stand eye to eye with us. Clover stiffens and it looks like he wants to flee as much as I want but cannot move. He pulls my arm forcefully, but his feet remain at the exact same spot.


    We''ll die. This was nothing else but a suicide mission, there was no chance we''d get out of here unharmed. They sent us here without weapon or any way to protect us when they knew the darkness twisted and distorted everything around it. We don''t deserve this, to go through all this pain just to be torn apart by this nightmare.


    Flee. One single word, all I could do was warn them. A hope that Nine takes Sage and Sun out of this world and give up the hope about the mask.


    The creature stands eye to eye with us now, with its foul breath. Its tongue moves out of its gape slowly like a snake. It runs the tongue over my cheek, over mud and sweat mixed together. I take short, panicked breaths as tears run down my cheeks, over its disgusting tongue.


    Orchid, the name echoes out in my mind, what is happening?


    It''s impossible, I send back. Flee. Now.


    "It was a punishment," it says and Clover''s grip around my arm gets tighter. "A punishment for what we did. I''m sorry.... Sorry."


    A sudden dirty boot meets the creature''s upper body. I''m not sure how he was able to break the petrification. It''s pushed back by the force and screams so loud it hurts my ears. In the next second we''re running. I''m not sure how my aching legs are able to handle it. But that we''re finally running and putting distance between us and the creature is all I care about.


    Clover leads me towards the narrow alleyways we came from. Just as we reach the end of the stairs a coal-black hand grabs me and throws me backwards. I end up on my stomach, sliding over the platform. I groan by the pain that is throbbing through my entire upper body. I stand up on my knees with one hand touching my ribs.


    The creature ascends the stairs with a grip around Clover''s throat and half of his face. It drags itself forward with its free hand. When it''s back at the platform it slams Clover down with his face first. One. Two. Three times.


    I cannot get up, my body aches too much. I shut out the words in my mind.


    Four, five.


    Blood fills his face and the platform, like he was alive.


    Six, seven.


    I try to get up despite the pain but fall down again.


    The creature throws Clover over the platform and when he lands, he groans. He slowly turns around, with his back against the ground. I cannot make out the details in the bloody face.


    It reaches its vile arms far in front of itself and moves towards Clover.


    I crawl forward, over the blood trail its body has left. I don''t know what I can achieve doing this, but there has to be something.


    The creature turns its masked face towards me once it realizes what I''m doing. It reaches out and grabs my face.


    "The war," the creature snarls as it lifts me up from the platform so I dangle in the air. Despite the fingers being thin, they''re long enough that they reach each other behind my head. "They knew what they did, what they caused."


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    Its fingers tighten over my head, it feels like it''s going to crush me like a grape. I scream and pulls the creature''s fingers with everything I got.


    It lets go of me and I fall down on the platform again and hit my back against the blood trail.


    "I''m sorry! I''m sorry!" The creature pushes a hand against the mask. "It was a punishment!"


    Clover carefully stands on all four, blood runs down his already bloody face. The creature grabs me before I can crawl any closer to him, it throws me away from them and I glide across the platform until my back hits the tower.


    The creature wraps its fingers around Clover''s bloody face and pushes him down at the ground again.


    I crawl forward using my arms, dragging my body against the ground. I don''t know why I''m trying, there''s no way out. We''re going to die here.


    Multiple tongues come out of its mouth, all but one looks sharp. They move down towards Clover that is pulling fiercely in the creature''s hand across his face. The tongues continue down towards his throat and slowly breach the skin as they make contact, the fingers around his head becomes tighter while Clover struggle desperately.


    My entire body is in a searing pain. It feels like someone has torn my arms to shred with every move I make. I slowly move my legs forward in an attempt to get my knees up so I can walk on all fours. Clover''s breaths and gasps becomes more agonizing as the scalpel-like tongues move further down his throat.


    I get up on both my knees and push my upper body up with my arms. I''m not going to make it. It would be easier to flee, whether I could walk or not didn''t matter. I could crawl out of the way and hide until the creature was done. They''re ugly and selfish thoughts. But it would mean I''d have a chance of surviving. I swallow and push myself forward, unsure what action to make.


    The ground shakes violently ¨C it has begun moving. Silently. The creature''s tongue''s stops and it slowly raises its head towards the darkness. Clover takes a steady grip around the tongues, and blood runs down his wrists as he yanks them out of his throat. The creature quickly turns its face back to Clover as he kicks its chest as hard as he possibly can. It falls back with a scream, letting go of Clover''s face in the process.


    Clover quickly gets up on unsteady legs. He limps towards me instead of fleeing and I feel shame for my earlier thoughts. It screams, Clover doesn''t even look back as he helps me up from the platform. The open and bloody wounds on his hands stains my sweater in muddy bloodstains.


    The ground moves beneath us and makes another rumbling sound, while the darkness moves silently. He limps as fast as he can with a hand around my waist. But not towards the narrow streets that lead us out of this hell hole. He leads us straight towards the darkness.


    The creature has begun its hunt again. I don''t dare to ask what he''s doing and trust that whatever plan he has will work.


    We jump down the platform and fall down at the ground. Pain throbs as he quickly pulls me up. The ground shakes another time as we limp towards the darkness and another piercing sound fills the air ¨C one that is different from the rumbling. I quickly twist my head around and Clover stops in his tracks to do the same. The large tower is falling, it feels like the entire world is shaking as it hits the platform. The painful scream that comes soon after makes him loose his grip around me. We remain for a few seconds before Clover leads me back to the platform. He carefully climbs up and helps me up afterwards.


    There are narrow cracks in the entirety of the platform. The large tower is laying in the middle of it, where pieces of the black floor has turned into upright shards of glass around it. The platform gives off a rumbling sound as Clover walks over the surface. The creature''s lower body is laying underneath the tower and its arms are pierced by shards of glass.


    It''s alive. The head slowly moves up and looks at us through the gape, then it shrieks like a wounded animal.


    Clover carefully leads us through the shards of glass, closer to the creature.


    "We need to get out of here, Clover... The darkness."


    "I know. But not without this," he says.


    He takes a few steps over the sharp glass shards.


    "I''m sorry, sorry," the creature says when Clover reaches it.


    Clover lets go of me. He grabs the mask and tears it off the creature''s face. It looks at us with white shining eyes, with a few black spots that covers the whites. Crevices grows upon its skin; it slowly wanders up the jet-black body and it stares at us with deep eyes until it bursts like it was made of porcelain. When the parts touch the platform they explode into thousands of pieces, like finely ground gravel, until they fully fade away.


    I take a deep breath. The way the crevices moved up its body reminded me of the dream I had about the dagger and the strange creature with the steel-like skin.


    The sharp tongues the creature had now hangs from the red-golden mask like dead plants. At the other side the darkness is moving forward, the ground is shaking when the city slowly disappears into the black emptiness.


    We have the mask; I send over to Nine and turn back to Clover. Hands are holding tightly around the mask, hard enough that they''re shaking. The tongues are no longer hanging. They''ve wrapped themselves around his wrists and breached his skin, continuing deep into his arms. I try to tear them out, neither Clover nor the tongues are moving. They cut open my palms and stains them in my own blood.


    "Clover!" I yell and let go of the tongues to shake him, I bloody his dirty and torn jacket.


    The brown eyes are widened and his nostrils flares by his heavy breathing. He''s not looking at me nor the tongues that seem to only go further into his arms, he focuses entirely on the coming darkness.


    I see the figure ¨C one that Clover had seen long before me ¨C behind the darkness. The platform is cracks beneath us; I don''t dare to move.


    The man is dressed in a black coat, it''s pale compared to the hands of smoke-like oil that clings to him as he steps out of the darkness. They slowly pull back when they can no longer reach him. He''s hooded, but the mask of an enlarged raven skull is still hard to miss.


    I''m too busy to stare at the now running man that I don''t pay any attention to Clover, until it''s too late. One tongue after another lets go of its place in his skin and gently makes its way up ¨C towards the mask that is now hiding half of Clover''s face. I cannot do anything else but staring and letting it happen. A heavy lump sits in my throat when the tongues move in under the mask and into Clover''s nostrils ¨C two for each opening.


    I''m tired. The platform gives out another sound. So damned tired.


    The man ¨C that couldn''t be anyone else but the Raven ¨C quickens his speed as he realizes what is happening. The mask. The sound of the platform''s rumbling.


    I cannot see Clover''s eyes behind the mask. But by the Clover''s quiet groans I can tell that whatever it is doing it''s painful.


    I throw a quick glance at the Raven when the platform vibrates with the cracking sound. I remember what Mort and Moria had spoken of him, how Clover had looked up to him. That''s enough for me to trust him in this moment. To make sure he''ll be okay in his hands. I push Clover with the last strength I have, hard enough to make him stumble a few steps away from me. The Raven has made his way up and is moving towards us with quicken steps.


    It rumbles again, louder this time and when the entire platform falls, The raven takes a firm hold of Clover and drags him towards the darkness.

 Chapter 46

    I open my heavy eyes and stare straight up at the sky above me, only a small part is visible. Most is covered in the smoke-like oil. I¡¯m lying on glass shards and the big tower is leaning against the opening, from where I fell.


    Orchid!


    I carefully roll over on my stomach. My body is aching and it¡¯s hard to move around without causing shivers of pain climbing up my back.


    I¡¯m alive, is all I can figure out to say.


    I start to climb the towers but it¡¯s too slippery and I¡¯m too injured to strategically climb the towers. I slide off and end up at the large shards of black glass again.


    I saw it fall, Nine says.


    I don¡¯t know if he means the tower or the platform.


    We lost the mask¡­ Clover he¨C


    Are you hurt? He interrupts me. We can talk about the mask later, what¡¯s most important is to get us out of here.


    I look up at the sky and the darkness again. The entire world is shaking. I have to get out of here before it reaches me. I hope my decision to trust the Raven was the right one, that Clover is safe, or as safe as he can be considering the circumstances. I force the thoughts away. I don¡¯t want to think of him right now, I¡¯m too scared of what my choices could have caused. Worrying now does nothing but secure my second death.


    I cannot get back up, I answer.


    It¡¯s not a regular hole of earth and mud, I can see the beginning of what looks like an underground corridor beyond the black glass shards.


    Where are you? What are you seeing?


    I carefully climb down; the shards cut my leggings and skin. It feels like I have a body. One that bleeds and aches in the same way it did when I was alive. I would likely have died by this fall if I had been alive.


    The corridor in front of me is narrow and on each sides hang light orbs that lit up the path forward.


    Some sort of underground corridor, I say and carefully stand on shaking legs. Each step I take sends out a wave of pain through my body. I whimper as I move forward, if slightly slower.


    The corridor is likely connected to the dead garden with the greenhouse. I didn¡¯t see much of the corridors I mentioned. When you told me to flee, I got back to the surface as quickly as I could.


    I lean against the thick stone walls with carved figures. I tumble forward when the entire underground shakes.


    And what makes you think it¡¯s the same corridors? I ask and slowly get up from the floor.


    I don¡¯t know, but we don¡¯t have much choice here. We have to get you out, and soon.


    There is a big chance I¡¯ll just get lost in these corridors ¨C if I can even get that far before my legs fold and I can no longer get up. No matter how much I think of it, I cannot see this place as anything else but my own personal tomb.


    I saw, he quiets down for a few seconds, I saw Clover. What happened with him, it wasn¡¯t your fault, Orchid. You did what you could.


    My chest burns. He had seen everything. I cannot think of it, or I don¡¯t want to. I shut it out and focus on each step my aching feet take.


    I don¡¯t want to talk about it. Not now. We can deal with it later. If I get out of here.


    I¡¯ll meet you. I sent Sage to Sun, he¡¯ll help her out while I get you.


    It doesn¡¯t sound as clear anymore, his voice is getting hollow, like it¡¯s disappearing into the void.


    I lean my head against the wall when I carefully move forward. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever make it out of here.


    I¡¯m coming.


    I can barely hear the voice anymore. I can understand him, but it sounds unfamiliar and distant.


    I think it¡¯s better if you leave me here, I send out.


    When I receive no answer, I¡¯m unsure if he ever got that message before our connection broke. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s forcing himself to continue and ignore the exhaustion and darkness. I don¡¯t want to give up yet. It doesn¡¯t matter if Nine is forcing himself to continue or if he¡¯s returning to the surface, I want to fight for survival. I¡¯ll walk as far as my legs will take me.


    The world shakes again, I lose my balance when I carefully move forward, pressed to the wall. My breath becomes heavier and more difficult. I keep going deeper into the underground passages.


    It¡¯s in a hall ¨C with the same beautiful murals of the man with the long white hair that I saw in Arkaros ¨C that I can no longer continue. I fall to the floor and stare straight into the man¡¯s face. These murals are showing his face. Paler than a human¡¯s skin should be. It¡¯s no longer covered by his hair ¨C I look straight into the white eyes. They¡¯re filled with tears. I can feel the sorrow and anger in them. What have they done to him? A single thought that scares me to my core.


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    I lean my head against the wall and breathe deeply, it feels like I have a large lump in my lungs.


    ¡°Breathe,¡± I tell myself and it makes my entire throat burn.


    I wish the jewelry had held on a little longer. There¡¯s something terrifying with dying alone, to know it¡¯s coming but having no one next to you to hold your hand, telling you everything will be alright. I feel lonely, like I¡¯m the only person in this world and that no one will remember me once I¡¯m gone.


    I close my eyes and think of Emma. I imagine her in front of me, but all I can remember is the hair. The details are impossible to see, it¡¯s just an empty face surrounded by blonde curls. The details of her face are either fully missing or are hidden in black oil. It doesn¡¯t get any clearer than that, no matter how hard I try to remember them. Yet, I¡¯m thankful I still remember her name.


    My skin feels like it is burning, I know it¡¯s close now. When I open my eyes again, I imagine that the man in the mural is sitting here with me and can hear me. That I¡¯m not alone.


    ¡°When I was alive, I didn¡¯t think there was anything after death.¡± I breathe in deeply. ¡°Nothing.¡±


    My eye lids feel heavy, I have to strain myself to keep them open. ¡°I was content with that¡­ I didn¡¯t need anything else; I didn¡¯t need to believe in anything¡­ No paradise or resurrection. It¡¯s different now.¡±


    I lean my head towards the wall. And my mouth becomes dry as I say the last words on my mind, ¡°I don¡¯t want to die.¡±


    If this world has shown me anything about myself it was how much I fight for survival, and for the desire to not disappear. That I don¡¯t want to die.


    I stare into the man¡¯s sorrowful eyes and prepare myself. I wonder if it will hurt even more, or if I¡¯ll disappear before that. No pain, nothing afterwards because I will no longer exist.


    The ground vibrates and I hear the corridors collapsing. The darkness is coming; I feel it burning my skin and soon I¡¯ll be able to see it.


    The sound of the earth crumbling and filling up the paths before fully disappearing fills my ears.


    A hand grabs my arm. I¡¯m met by Nine¡¯s face and he throws my arm over his shoulder as he helps me up from the floor. We run as quick as we¡¯re standing on two legs. We¡¯re able to get into the other corridor while the hall behind us crumbles and disappears within the darkness as it devours everything it touches.


    I can see the exhaustion and in Nine¡¯s pale face. He¡¯s pushing himself hard to be able to run with me and not getting crushed by the corridors or taken by the darkness.


    My calves throb as he leads us into another long but brighter corridor.


    ¡°We¡¯re almost there, hold on,¡± he breathes.


    I cannot help but to think ¨C then what? Even if we¡¯re able to get out of the underground corridor, how would we get out of the city? How can we get anywhere when the only road we¡¯re aware of will be devoured by the darkness long before we can reach it?


    It feels like my throat is filled with hot ash that burns and dries out. I don¡¯t want to die. I repeat the sentence in my head when we run through the narrow corridor while everything is collapsing behind us.


    I part my lips and force out the words covered in ash. Careful, pleading words. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die.¡±


    The hand around my wrists gets tighter.


    We can see it now ¨C the stairs that lead up to the dead garden. The darkness is burning us, it¡¯s close enough that it burns our entire back. A hollow emptiness and I can also feel death, not the same that I once experienced. This one end everything and destroys each little detail of you.


    We finally reach the stairs when it feels like my legs are about to give up. It¡¯s falling around us when we¡¯re running up them and small earthy stones hit our backs.


    And then it abruptly ends. The underground corridors stop collapsing like there¡¯s something still holding up the little part that is left.


    We stop and look behind us. The darkness has stopped moving. Now it stands completely still. It still moves like it¡¯s alive, but it¡¯s not moving forward.


    Even though it has stopped it burns our body and sucks out all of our energy. We cannot stay here. Nine holds tightly around my wrist, with my arm over his shoulders, and we carefully and slowly climb the rest of the stairs.


    We¡¯re met by the dead garden on the surface. Brown grass and large withered flowers covers a large area in front of us and paths of stone tablets are visible behind the mud. Even the black green house is at the other side of the garden. Behind us there¡¯s a wall of pulsating darkness, it reaches the sky where large clouds of smoke and oil hangs above us. I look towards the gate ¨C the one we came from ¨C it doesn¡¯t exist anymore; the area is covered by darkness. I hope that Sun and Sage were able to get out of the city before it disappeared, and that the Raven somehow saved Clover.


    Nine¡¯s arm is covered by the blood that is pouring out of his open wounds, in the same way Clover¡¯s face had been covered in blood when the creature hit his face against the platform.


    ¡°We need to find another way out,¡± I say.


    My entire mouth tastes like ash.


    ¡°Can you walk?¡±


    ¡±Not by myself.¡±


    If Nine wasn¡¯t holding me up I wouldn¡¯t even be able to stand, I can walk thanks to him supporting me. For each step I take it feels like my calves are torn apart.


    ¡°Alright, keep your eyes above us,¡± he says.


    I look up at the sky, on the smoke and oil that has made its way out of the darkness.


    ¡°Keep watch. We cannot be hit by those drops.¡±


    It was the same drops that looked like oil or black paint that we had seen at the dead fields. I had known from the beginning that we couldn¡¯t touch it. It would have been like touching the darkness. Nine limps towards the green house in hope of finding another way home.


    ****


    It takes an hour before we find a way out, one that leads us through the distorted forest, so we don¡¯t have to worry about the black drops. It¡¯s easier to get through the forest then it was the first time, like it leads us home. We rest a few times when our bodies cannot handle it anymore, but never more than half an hour in case the darkness start moving again. We¡¯re too exhausted to run like we had done in the corridor. Sometimes Nine is the one who is carrying me, and other times I¡¯m the one supporting him.


    When we reach the steep hill both Sun and Sage are waiting for us. Both are unharmed. I feel like crying, I had hoped both survived and had made it out of the city. To see them standing there ¨C their clothes covered in mud and dirt, their faces exhausted ¨C feels unreal. Because deep down I didn¡¯t think they would be standing here when we got back. Both me and Nine collapses at the beginning of the steep hill. Sage helps Nine while Sun lays my arm over her shoulders. Her hand holds my wrist tightly and that¡¯s when I notice it. The dark mark on her hand. A black circle, like a single drop has fallen onto the back of her hand. It¡¯s dark, blacker than the blackest color I could think of.


    She leads me up the hill and my body aches for each step. Sage and Nine are walking in front of us, no one asks about the mask or Clover. They know both are lost.


    I can see the gate ¨C the one we came from. My eyes are burning. We can soon leave this cursed world. I long to breathe an air that isn¡¯t suffocating. To not feel pain anymore. For the first time since reaching the Realm of the Dead I don¡¯t want to feel anything at all.

 Chapter 47

    I pull my hand over my sweater. It¡¯s no longer covered in a layer of dirt, blood and mud. I cannot feel the material against my fingertips nor the pain and exhaustion I had felt in Pyrgos. It didn¡¯t change immediately; it took a few hours. It feels strange. The feelings and the pain had been strong close to the darkness, yet now I can¡¯t feel anything.


    We had arrived empty-handed to Vrana. Besides, I had pushed Clover against the Raven. A hope that it¡¯d saved him ¨C but I had literally seen the Raven walk out of the darkness. The same darkness that burned our backs, destroyed everything in its path and marked Sun ¨C something we still hadn¡¯t spoken of. Everyone had noticed the mark on the back of her hand. It¡¯s no longer just a circle. It had grown. Five crooked lines extended themselves from the circle. No one had said anything. Not Sun, Nine nor Sage.


    The mission they had sent us on ended with the mask and one of the soul wanderers lost, and another had been marked by the darkness, and none of us know what that means.


    The white-clad skeleton leads us back to the meeting hall, it has the same straight posture as Cerberus. We¡¯ve barely spoken a word to each other since we left Pyrgos, all we had done was answering the unending questions Vrana had for us. There wasn¡¯t much to say until we got to the meeting hall. Where we ¨C where I had to explain what I¡¯d done and what we¡¯d lost.


    I¡¯m mad that they sent us there without protection. That they didn¡¯t explain how agonizing it was to get through a distorted world. In the end we lost almost everything for something we couldn¡¯t even get our hands on.


    The skeleton leads us deeper into the Citadel, until we reach the meeting hall clad in forest green. All of the guardians stand ready in their pulpits. As usual, their emotions are all too tangible. This time it¡¯s worry, and it becomes worse once they realize we don¡¯t have the mask nor Clover with us.


    The skeleton stands aside, and we continue onto the platform. First scoffs as he notices we¡¯re approaching.


    ¡°Would you look at that? The man suspected to have partnered with the Forsaken soul wanderer isn¡¯t here. I can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised,¡± he says with an arrogant smirk.


    The familiar suffocating feeling makes itself known; my gaze slowly turns to Blomst. I remember how she had reacted at the suspicions about Clover. I have no idea how she¡¯ll react to what I have to say.


    ¡°Where is he?¡± She asks. ¡°Where is Clover?¡±


    Vrana gives her a sympathetic look. She¡¯s ignoring him with her gaze focused on us.


    I ready myself to take the worst of this. It was after all I that knew what happened, and it was I that had made one of the worst things I could have done. Yet I¡¯m not so sure the other choice would have been better. If he fell down with me, I¡¯m not sure any of us would have gotten away from the darkness.


    ¡°And where is the mask?¡± Saturn asks.


    ¡°Where is he?¡± Blomst repeats.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I answer.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± Blomst grip around the pulpit¡¯s wall becomes tighter. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Do you know what you sent us to?¡± I ask and keep my voice as steady as I can.


    I can see the images the distorted creature sent me at the platform. Filled with blood and grotesque violence. How disgusting that hunger had felt within me. It¡¯s nothing I¡¯ll forget soon, if ever. The images are burnt into my mind.


    ¡°What we had to experience?¡±


    They stare at me like they¡¯re expecting me to shut out my anger. That I¡¯ll be an obedient little girl and tell them what they want to hear. But I cannot, not until they explained why it was worth sending us to Pyrgos.


    ¡°Orchid,¡± Sun warns.


    She¡¯s tired. We all are, she likely wants me to say what is needed so we can all move on and leave it behind us. But considering how she has held her hand over the mark, hiding it in front of the guardians, I¡¯m not so sure she can. I don¡¯t think anyone of us can, not after what we witnessed or what the mirror had shown me. Not many of the memories I had seen made sense, but some of it had stood out, as well as what the distorted creature had said. I¡¯m sorry. It was a punishment. A war. They knew what they did. I¡¯ve repeated the words over and over again, studied them and tried to understand the whole meaning. The guardians are arrogant and carries on an unquenchable thirst for power. They¡¯d betray and manipulate each other if they thought it would help them, and they would continue to use us as tools. The same way that Cerberus and Vrana had used me.


    Cerberus had shown me a merciful side that I no longer knew if it was real, maybe he told me everything he did to make himself seem more human ¨C so I¡¯d open up and tell him what he wanted. I had lied to him in the end and hadn¡¯t kept my part of the deal. And the moment he knew I had lied I wasn¡¯t as useable, and that merciful side had disappeared.


    Vrana wasn¡¯t better. I cannot trust what he has told me. He must have had a reason why he didn¡¯t tell the guardians about my connection with the dagger.


    They¡¯re playing a game against each other where we soul wanderers are only game pieces. I don¡¯t have to see more memories to know they were somehow involved in what happened to Pyrgos. I don¡¯t know how, but I¡¯m confident of it.


    Sun takes a step forward when she notices I won¡¯t back down. She still holds her own hand and hides the black mark on the back of her hand. She takes a breath to prepare herself.


    ¡°What we are suspecting is that Clover was taken by the Raven.¡±


    It¡¯s not sun that is speaking, it¡¯s Vrana. A fragile sound escapes Blomst¡¯s lips.


    ¡°The Raven? Well, that¡¯s enough proof of our suspicions, no?¡±


    ¡°Taken, First,¡± Vrana corrects him, ¡°he didn¡¯t go with him willingly.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± Blomst asks, her voice isn¡¯t quite holding together.


    I take a step forward. I don¡¯t want to tell them what we¡¯ve gone through and what we have seen. The anger in me is focused entirely on the guardians and what they have exposed us to.


    ¡°We made our way to a city built of spear-like towers.¡± My voice is crystal clear, empty of emotions like I¡¯m not speaking of the worst experiences I¡¯ve had the misery to endure. ¡°We split up. Nine and Sage, and my group consisted of me, Sun and Clover. We had to leave her to move forward.¡±


    ¡°Did you find the mask?¡± Saturn asks.


    I glare at him. ¡°Yes. It was on a grotesque monster that had eaten half of its body, and it wanted to tear us apart. And it would have succeeded had the darkness not moved.¡±


    The guardians don¡¯t look surprised. Neither had Vrana when I told him everything outside of the gate. Like they had expected that something might have worn the mask.


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    ¡°When the darkness moved it broke tower after tower, one of them crushed the creature and Clover took the mask.¡± I take a deep breath. ¡°I think you know what happened after that.


    ¡°Little girl, be careful who you speak with that tone of yours, or what you¡¯re suggesting we¡¯ve done,¡± First hisses.


    ¡°Shall I believe you knew nothing? That you were ignorant of your own world, and you didn¡¯t willingly send us to a dangerous place? That you didn¡¯t know what was waiting or what the mask did?¡±


    ¡°It was worth sending you. We couldn¡¯t let go of this chance and we were hoping the mask was asleep,¡± Cerberus says.


    Asleep. It seemed to be just as alive as the rest of us ¨C in one way or another. They had known exactly what it was capable of. They practically sacrificed us for an artifact.


    ¡°You sent us there without weapons nor protection! How the hell did you think it would end?!¡±


    ¡°We thought that all you would have to deal with was the darkness, we weren¡¯t expecting a being to still be there two thousand years later, or that it would have awoken it,¡± Liria said.


    Nine grabs my arm and whispers, ¡°that¡¯s enough.¡±


    Blomst leans over the pulpits. ¡°Did he put the mask on?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Nine answers and lets go of my arm.


    ¡°And you left him there?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t have much choice,¡± I say and prepare to tell them what I¡¯ve been avoiding. ¡°I saw the Raven coming out of the darkness.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Couleur asks.


    The guardians exchange looks, all of them worried. It feels suffocating.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t have much choice,¡± I repeat. ¡°The platform we had been standing on had been crushed by a tower. The darkness was moving and devouring everything it was touching and¡­ I was exhausted. I knew that if Clover fell none of us would get out.¡±


    Blomst scoffs. ¡°So, you left him there, with the Raven?¡±


    ¡°I pushed him.¡±


    ¡°You pushed him?¡± Liria asks.


    ¡°Yes, towards the Raven. He was the only one who could help him. It was the only thing I could do.¡±


    Couleur shakes her head. ¡°Hold on, you saw him walking out of the darkness and you decide that there is no other choice but that?¡±


    I try to swallow the anger that is building up within me, like a wild uncontrollable storm. They hadn¡¯t been there and seen what we had. No matter the decision the end results was never something I wanted. If there somehow was a way to save Clover I would have chosen that. But no matter how much I was thinking of it, I couldn¡¯t find a way that would lead to that. The only way of him surviving was if the Raven brought him with him.


    ¡°It was that or let him die.¡±


    Blomst shakes her head, while frowning her entire face. ¡°How can you know that your foolish choice doesn¡¯t lead to his extinction¡­ or worse?¡±


    The wrath and frustration in the air is suffocating me. It¡¯s too mixed and too much to know who most of it comes from.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know that,¡± I say as self-assured as I can make it sound, ¡°but it was the only thing I could do.¡±


    Blomst makes a hand gesture and lets out a frustrated sound, her pale face is twisted into an expression of chilling wrath. Before she can say something, Vrana raises his hand and I automatically take a step back.


    ¡°Orchid did what she could in the situation she was put in,¡± he says and lowers his hand, ¡°and she chose the most favorable decision.¡±


    I don¡¯t trust him, I cannot trust him.


    ¡°How could you say that?!¡± Blomst snarls.


    First gives her a haughty look. ¡°Because the mask wasn¡¯t devoured by the darkness. We have a chance to get it back, with or without Clover.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Vrana adds.


    Cerberus stares at Vrana and First. ¡°The mask is in the wrong hands, dangerous hands! How could you be seeing this as a favorable situation?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better than it being lost,¡± Liria answers.


    The suffocating feeling of frustration and wrath dies out, it¡¯s only Blomst¡¯s sorrow that fills the entire hall. The dark expression tells me she cannot see anything positive with this.


    ¡°Blomst, there is still a large possibility that Clover is still with us,¡± Liria says.


    Blomst grimaces and leaves the hall through the door behind her. When it closes the guardians keep talking between each other, like she never left the hall to begin with. It¡¯s the same thing over and over again. Endless bickering about what they¡¯ll do with the news we came with. What they should do about me. None of them seems to know if what I did was considered a crime or not. They never get to a solution of sorts, and eventually they ask us to leave so they can discuss it between themselves. I¡¯m allowed to move freely around the realm. Sun, Sage and Nine says nothing. Nothing about what I¡¯ve done, not about the Raven and Clover, nor about Sun¡¯s visible mark. They don¡¯t share if they think I¡¯m guilty or what they would have done in my situation. Nothing gets said between us. Just a feeble goodbye once we leave the Citadel. Sun and Nine stays in Arkaros, while me and Sage head to the entry gate. He goes back to his world, Mauve, and gives me the same feeble goodbye as the rest.


    I stand in the corridor a while before I decide to not head back to the Eleven. I cannot handle being stuck in my room now, not when I¡¯m unsure if I¡¯ll end up in a prison somewhere. Imprisoned for years, an eternity. I¡¯m not sure how prisons work here. If they¡¯ll just let me rot in some hole until I¡¯m ready for my own funeral.


    I stare up at the gate of wood. It feels like an eternity since I was here last, when everything was okay between me and Clover, it was also then everything went to hell. It¡¯s easy to pretend, to fool yourself that everything is okay and that you feel fine. But, just like Clover had said, eventually it will spill over.


    I need to speak to someone who hasn¡¯t seen what I have. But still someone who knew him well.


    I open the door that leads to the Oak and when I step into the beautiful forest world I feel like crying. I¡¯m able to keep it inside but I cannot force a smile or pretend I hadn¡¯t seen what I had. I have to put all my energy on the burning tears building up in my eyes. I cannot let them fall.


    When I arrive at the Viking it looks just as cozy as it had been the first time I was here. A few creatures sit at the tables ¨C not as many as when I and Clover were here ¨C and drinks from the mugs that looks like tree trunks. Mort and Moria are standing behind the bar counter. They lay their dark eyes on me. At first, they smile but soon their joyous expression fades.


    Mort nods at Moria, she quickly picks a mug off the shelves.


    "Well, if it isn¡¯t Orchid," Mort say as I reach the bar.


    I sit down on one of the barstools and give them the faintest smile I can muster. I¡¯m happy they remember me. I wouldn¡¯t want to explain to them who I was and that I had been here before, not now.


    ¡°Give her a Balder,¡± Mort says to Moria.


    Moria leaves the room and Mort looks at me with friendly black eyes.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I mumble.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been better.¡±


    Moria comes back with the mug; it¡¯s filled to the top with a white and shining foam. She carefully places it on the bar counter and wipes her hand on the brown apron.


    ¡°Balder, one of the most loving drinks,¡± she says with a small sympathetic smile.


    ¡°Loving?¡± I ask.


    ¡°You¡¯ll understand once you drink it.¡±


    I take a sip of the drink; I only get foam in my mouth until I feel the silky-smooth liquid wash over my tongue. My entire body fills with a warm harmony ¨C one I¡¯m not so sure I deserve. I cannot keep my tears back, so I let them silently spill over.


    They¡¯re patient and let me collect myself and my thoughts before I can tell them what happened. I hide away the grotesque details about the creature, about the hunger I had felt and the picture it had sent me. No one needed those details. It¡¯s a part I¡¯ll be carrying, one I¡¯ll never fully be able to speak out loud about again. I tell them about the Raven, that he walked out of the darkness. The worry they both show in their eyes makes me regret it, I should never have added that detail. I tell them about the mask, that I had to make a choice. They let me continue until I¡¯ve spilled out all the details I can stomach.


    I take the last sip of the drink that has filled me entirely of harmony. There are no longer any tears coming from my eyes. Mort leans forward and puts his toad-like hands on the counter. He looks at me, openly and vulnerable. Even he is suffering.


    ¡±Orchid, if I know anything about the Raven then it¡¯s that he¡¯d do everything to take Clover to safety, he¡¯d take care of him. He wouldn¡¯t let him suffer. You did the only right decision,¡± Mort says.


    Moria is staring at me, while leaning over the bar counter with her hand resting against her cheek. ¡°It¡¯s interesting,¡± she begins absent-mindedly, ¡°that he walked through the darkness.¡±


    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s something negative,¡± Mort adds.


    ¡°I never said that.¡± Moria shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard about anyone that walked through the darkness and wasn¡¯t destroyed by it. No beings nor soul wanderers. And Guardians speed the process of it with their presence.¡±


    She frowns.


    ¡°There¡¯s no point trying to figure this mystery out, Moria,¡± Mort says gently. ¡°None of us should be able to go through it.¡±


    Her face softens and she looks at Mort for a long time before she turns back to me again. She gives me a smile, the same sympathetic smile as before.


    ¡°If Clover is with the Raven, then he¡¯s safe.¡±


    Safe. I should be content with that and trust what they say. But if the guardians were correct, if it leads to his death or something worse¡­ I¡¯m not so sure I could live with myself.


    I stare down into the empty mug. The harmony embraces my entire body and touches every part of me. Inside and outside. Yet it feels foreign, like it¡¯s not mine.


    I know I have to make myself ready to go back to the Eleven again. But I¡¯ll take advantage of the last hours here, until the train of light on the hill burns out.

 Final words and Playlist

    Thank you so much for reading White Orchids! I¡¯ve been working on this book since 2021 march 1<sup>st</sup>, and I¡¯m so excited that it¡¯s finally fully translated and out. The dream is to one day being able to self-publish it in the future, after working through it one more time. But that¡¯s only a dream currently, and not in motion of any kind. Either way, I just wanted to say my thanks for sticking with it for so long and reading it. I¡¯ll soon be working on book 2, as this is a book series, and hopefully book 2 will start getting published sooner rather than later, however I aim to fully write it and edit it before I start publishing it, so don¡¯t expect it any time soon. I will also try to work on Oath of Plague and another one I''m currently working on, to get some other stuff published in-between White Orchids and Book 2.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    I have a Spotify list for songs or part of specific lyrics that have reminded me of my book, take a look here.


    https://open.spotify.com/playlist/32BXPv09dWSyGGbK6xrdhD?si=6eab358ebe2c4c48</a>


    Thank you,


    Frost.