Chapter one
The firelight danced, casting both shadows and reflections off the wet and jagged walls within the twisted cavern. I listened to the distinctive echoes from my footfalls and counted each step as I walked.
Fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three–
Occasionally, sharp rocks jutted from the sides of the narrow path, making it impossible to pass without either crawling under them or turning to the side. The caves had been hidden for decades from the general population of that realm called Earth. It was sad, really, how little knowledge most of the people there had about their own world, not to mention their understanding of the magical beings who had taken refuge there. They only believed in things they could plainly see and explain, and as a result, all of their science was lacking in one aspect: there was a world, a world unseen by them—pulsating through them all. It was the magic of life, of souls, of spirits, and of mysterious beings.
In existence, there are worlds and realms without end. The Creator has no limits.
The flame, emanating from the crude, wooden torch I held, only illuminated a few feet in front of me, so I walked slowly, hoping to avoid injury. A slight shiver wrapped around me as I traveled deeper and deeper into the darkness. I didn't like those dark, confined caves, and if I could have chosen any other location, I would have, but I needed acaveto work out my plans. I hated the sulfuric smell and the dampness that permeated everything in there, especially the air. Memories of my life back in Terra, my own realm, flashed before me as I walked forward and continued to count the steady rhythm of my steps:Two hundred and six, two hundred and seven, two hundred and eight.I liked rhythm and the consistent patterns of things around me.
I had tracked the passage of time—its density and its values of the past and present—throughout my life. When imprisoned, I had counted the number of times water dripped down from the small crack in the ceiling of my confining cell. Those drips allowed me to collect water into a bowl, which I had placed precisely in order to secure a limited water supply. I’d counted the number of times my prison guard had left his post throughout the day:three; the number of times that small rodent in my cell had searched for food before it realized that I had had no food for an entire week, and I never saw it again:one hundred and twelve—persistent little thing; and the number of times Tarick had tested his leather strap, just before bestowing another blow upon my flesh:threetimes—with a twenty-second pause between each strike. It was always three, always twenty seconds. The number of strokes upon my actual flesh always depended upon his mood; it had ranged from thirty to fifty, and then there was that one time when I passed out and stopped counting altogether—I regretted that. I wanted to add that sum to my ongoing mental accounting. I was at twenty thousand four hundred and two. I shook my head. I wanted to forget the soundofhisvoice. I wanted to forget the look inhiseyes. I could not, however. Just as I couldn't forget the other man who had stood beside him. Although not always there, that fact did not make it any more bearable—not when he had never even tried to stop any of those beatings. It had always been difficult to forget the man beside Tarick, because, regretfully, he was my own father.
I stopped in the tunnel for a moment, clutching the small dagger—the corruptor's blade–with my other hand at my waist. I still had it—good. It was a security precaution for me. I dropped my hand and watched the flame of the torch I held flicker before me while I breathed heavily; I counted my breaths, the ones I took in and the ones I let out. I did not realize how hard I had been breathing. I tried to slow the anger—the racing of my heart. I had never needed to calm myself down like that before. Usually, if I wanted to feel a particular emotion, I just felt it. If I wanted to move on from a moment or from a memory, I did.
I moved the midnight crystal from my pocket, feeling the heat and pulsations emanating from it; there was a living organism trapped inside that gem–my melody, my soul. I smiled at that realization, the knowledge that I had finally discovered my soul, and, in that moment, my carefully counted out, yetunbeloved,childhood vanished before me.I can change my future, despite my past,I thought. My past could strengthen me—make me capable of handling more difficulties in life with more finesse. I started walking again. Movement seemed to help keep the chill from seeping into the depths of my bones, which cold matched the darkness of the caverns. If I remained inside of those caves for too long, I knew that I would need extra layers of clothing. It was a good thing that I was only there to collect just a few items, and, hopefully, I would never have to return to those wretched caves ever again. I pulled a curtain back, revealing a sad excuse of a room and sat down upon a small pile of discarded, soulless clothing, harvested from the ones lost. I sat, hands on my brow,as I thought and then rethought, over and over again, about what I had just done. Feelings and emotions were swirling around me and left me rather breathless. I didn't know how long I'd been there, slumped over, before one of thelivingsoulless approached me.
“Sire, all is prepared,” the low voice resonated.
I looked up and nodded to the soulless boy. “What about the room where they were kept?”
“That table and all the equipment is still there as requested.”
When I had stumbled upon that cave long ago, it was because of a group of ‘believers,’ as they called themselves, some fanatic group I’d later learned. This group of people who lived in a nearby secluded area often used the cave system. I didn't understand what they used the caves for until I walked in on their leader one evening. He explained to me that during each full moon, they offered a human sacrifice to theirgodfor prosperity. It wasn't the Ancients, nor was it the Creator, they offered up souls to; they were followers of the corruptor. They needed to be destroyed.
I flinched thinking back on what I’d seen that day. I was certain that even a magicless being could have sensed the darkness inside of that man. I, myself, had beensacrificedoften enough throughout my life to have become unable to let their evil acts go unpunished. Needless to say, the cult disbanded because their leader suddenlyabandonedthem, and no more people were sacrificed to their ‘god.’ They appeared to have used the largest of the caverns frequently, I could see why. Not only was it a large space, but located down a very easily accessible tunnel. After I had ridded the place of corruption, I realized that the spacious cavern would be perfect for my confrontation with the knight, my brother, and the lovely Emma, too. Finding a plentiful supply of midnight crystals made the cave an even more obvious choice.
Focusing my thoughts, I looked at the soulless man in front of me. He was wearing one of the uniforms I’d collected from some Terrans I had stumbled upon. Why those Terrans had left Terra with a sack full of soldier uniforms, I’d never understand. It had been a pain getting those. Whenever I played a part, I made sure I played the part well. Realizing that the soulless wouldn’t leave until I said he could, I cleared my throat.
“Good,” I stood up, still clasping my brother's—nomy—soul’s melody in my hand. I walked over to a small rustic table, which I sometimes used as a desk, and set it down on top. I needed some distance from all of the uncomfortable emotions, which attacked me.
Why am I feeling anything like this strange remorse in the first place?I wondered. The melody, again, called to me, and with that call—there also came an answer. That answer was the reason that my soul was causing me to see things differently. I no longer could remain calm and collected. I could no longer easily disengage myself. I would have to work hard to figure out how to function while having a soul, on having all sorts of new emotions and feelings. I rolled my eyes, running my hands through my hair with a sigh. It was not at all what I had expected. I should have calculated as much, of course, which made me mad in an entirely different way; I was being incompetent. In all of my planning, I had not realized what exactly it would be like to have a soul. I had not prepared for that at all—for the differences in myself and how my soul would change me. I had only considered how it could strengthen me, not how it would make me weak, filling me with incredibly strong emotions.
“Be sure that the dead are buried before we leave. And have someone also check in on the second facility. Most of those soulless, there, should be young enough to report back to us about what is going on there. I don't know when I'll be able to go there in person,” I ordered.
“I will, sire.”
“We need to cover our tracks here fully. Also, when we get back, I need to speak to that one soulless, who I’d sent to the school.”
“Yes,” he bowed. He was an obedient, little soulless.
“Good. You can go,” I said with a wave of my hand. I listened as he marched away, down into the cavern. I paused, silently mourning for those people who would become lost, without showing it on my countenance. It seemed to me that I should have been able to have some sort of balance. I had to keep my emotions hidden deep within myself where no one would be the wiser about the feelings I was battling. That was, until they read my soul. I would have to worry about that later. I was with the soulless quite often—surrounded by them on a daily basis, and none of them were a threat. They would be the perfect humans to be around as I navigated the recent development in my evolution: what it was like to have a soul. Just another thing added to the lengthy list of to-dos that seemed ever growing—but I was saving the realms, right? There would be a hundred thousand things to do. I would have to go, myself, in a week or two to check on the other soulless. I started a new list in my mind of what I needed to do. I placed checking on the soulless somewhere in the middle of that list; it was important, but not the most important. There were always dozens of things that I needed to get done. I took one more look around the room before leaving it forever, never to return. With a smile on my face and my brother's—no,my—soul in my pocket, I left the caves and was greeted by sunlight.
My soulless servants set up camp without complaint as I sat under the stars, counting them and charting them in my book. The wind blew my hair over my eyes so I couldn't see my drawing. I smiled as I moved it out of my view, looking up at the trees, which moved in the slight breeze. I had never felt anybreeze, before my time on Earth, though, not that I could recall, before my escape from the prison where I had lived for most of my life. That wind felt like an invisible hand, caressing my skin every time it wafted, telling me that all would be well—that the Ancients were on my side. Even that world knew that Ihadto do what I was doing—I had a calling. The lady who had sent me to earth from within the Dungeons of the Mist had told me so herself.
I lay out on top of my bedroll at around three in the morning, fully dressed, dagger at the ready, after I had finished charting the last of the visible constellations in my notebook. As I tried in vain to sleep, however, I awoke to Emma’s voice floating around me. Her thoughts were streaming above me, as if I had opened my eyes, I would have been able to see them there, written out across the tent ceiling. I reached for the necklace, listening to her train of thought. She was trying to calm herself down.
I can do this.The words came out, pure and clear, as if she had been standing beside me. I could feel the emotion rising up from the words inside of her soul. She thought that she could endure Shad’s soulless state, that she could handle the changes within him, and that she could still be with him. I couldn’t help my wondering reply.
But can you?She pushed that negative thought away immediately after it popped into her head, telling herself that it was her own doubt. I smiled, not at the subject of our conversation, but at her own inability to control her soul. That knowledge was useful because I had come to realize that we could communicate with each other, and that she could not keep me out.
I stared at the crystal, the melody still pulsating through it, yet radiating through me as if I were a conduit for its electricity—for the power it held. I had touched it very little since I had stripped my brother's soul from him and placed it in that crystal, butthe melody seemed to understand that it belonged to me. If that wasn't proof that it was mine—well, I didn't know what would be proof for anyone.
I closed my eyes and lay my head back down. I tried to sleep but was met with my brother's pleading, horror-filled eyes, along with his screams that could only come from a man in utter and complete agony—agony whichIhad caused. No—not me. I sat up in shock—my breaths coming out ragged, my skin glazed over with sweat. I had always thought myself so much different from Shadrict and that what my father and Tarick, the men who had caused me most of my life's sorrows, what they had done to me—made it impossible for Shadrict to even fathom who I was, and yet it was evident—there was actual tangible proof within my recovered melody that I was not theonlyone to know the wrath and hatred of a father—ourfather. I counted the beatings—the strikes from our father from Shadrict’s memory within my soul. Shadrict collapsed to the floor with the thirty-first blow. I realized, then, as Shadrict’s face lifted off the floor and a man’s face came into view, that not only were we more alike than I had ever known—butthat face? That man?I gulped, clutching my chest—knowing the intense feelings of betrayal and confusion flooding me from Shadrict’s own feelings from that memory. We were alike, yes, only with one stark contrast—I had never received even a single beating at the hands of my own father—buthehad, and it didn't seem like it was the first, or the only, time it had happened.
Chapter two
“Do you remember your name, soulless?” I asked, slicing my shovel’s tip into the mound of dirt.
