10 Faces & Whispers

Once within its walls, Lorn found herself surrounded by whispers. She felt like she was being watched. A soft glow emanated from her body, pale and sickly and didn’t reveal more than a few feet in a circle around her. What she could see revealed smooth stone. There was no mortar joining the flags at her feet, the joins so fine she doubted she could pass a hair between them. This was not the work of ordinary people. She half wondered if the souleaters had built this world, before they’d become what they now were. Maybe this was the true Tharaxis, and the other a mere copy, created as a hunting ground.

I don’t like this, Axiom whispered, as though he’d had nothing to do with her being there. It’s creepy.

She rolled her eyes. After all, he was a bloody shraed, about as creepy as one could get when souleaters weren’t in the picture.

There was a coldness to the place, something she recognised, but hadn’t felt since alive. It soon turned icy, though it didn’t affect her the way it would have a living person. She could tolerate it; she just didn’t like it.

As she walked, the whispering grew louder. They chattered in her mind, a hundred billion voices speaking at once, or so it seemed.

After a short while, she realised there was an open space in front of her as the corridor ended. The darkness within appeared to recede like someone pulling away a shroud. In its place was a diffuse and sourceless reddish light.

A black throne grew out of the darkness, as though being crafted by invisible hands, and Lorn believed that was exactly what was happening. Within it, rather than seated upon it, was the primordial. That thing couldn’t have been anything else. It was a writhing contradictory mass of light and darkness, both constantly at war, seething and pulsing. It held no discernible shape, and it hurt to look at for long.

Lorn tore her gaze away and examined the temple hall instead. Horror filled her. She took a few steps backwards, considering whether to stay or run. Faces stared at her from the walls, thousands upon thousands of them. Their mouths moved, whispering, their eyes watching her accusingly.

It was then, on the brink of fleeing, she spotted Yaldo not far from the throne. His body was that of a full souleater, nothing much remaining of the boy she’d met. Until he turned to look at her; his expression was one of fear, horror, and confusion. Her heart broke, and she understood why Aiyana cared for him. Alive or dead, he was a child, and she wished she could undo what was being done to him. But then, Lorn Larthuz wished a great many things, and wishes were for fools.

***

THE BOY COULDN’T REMEMBER his name. He thought he should know it, but everything was blurry. The incessant voices made it difficult. He stared up and around at his surroundings, afraid. He didn’t remember coming to this place of stone. There were faces, and not nice friendly ones either, staring at him. Thousands and thousands of faces. Why were they all watching him?

There was also pain. In his arms and legs sores had opened. Dozens of them. For some reason, they looked like mouths with tiny teeth. His body felt funny, not least because he had one. He thought that before he might have been dead. Slowly, he remembered Tharaxis and his friends, or sort of. He could remember faces, like that dead woman who stood looking at him, all sad. He thought he liked her, but couldn’t remember her name.

There was a heaviness near him, a presence that told him he wasn’t alone. It tried to be comforting, motherly, and Yaldo turned towards it, forgetting the woman. On a throne, he saw his mother smiling back at him. She wore her usual brown dress, the one with the burnt hem after Yaldo had damaged it while trying to dry it over the fire. He hadn’t meant to be so careless, but his mother had just hugged him and wiped away his tears.

The whispering voices coalesced into one, and then he heard her for the first time in what was likely centuries. His mother’s voice.

He didn’t hear words exactly, just a soothing sound that told him it was her. In that sound, there was meaning, intent. She’d come to take him home. Yes, his father was there, and his brothers and sisters too. They were all eager to see him. What was he waiting for?

Yaldo felt a pang of fear, and glanced back at the dead woman. Who was she? Why did he hesitate?

Something was wrong.

She’s here to stop us, said his mother’s voice. She will stop us from being together. Hurry, my son. Come to me before it’s too late!

Yes, thought Yaldo, and then his sight changed. He could now see much better, everything visible as shades of washed-out grey. Everything but for the soul of a woman who would dare keep him from his family. That soul glowed a bright angry red.

Yaldo turned towards her. No, he would need to stop her first, and then he could be with his family for eternity.

***

THE LIST, Axiom hissed in her head. We need to find it and get out of here. I don’t like dark places you know. Gives me the jitters.

It occurred to Lorn that the list might not be in a physical form like the stones beneath her feet. After all, what form would a list of souls take anyway? Well, now is a bit late to start thinking about that, she thought.

Finally, she risked speaking, though it was barely a whisper. Perhaps it was simply in defiance, or a moment of insane bravery. ‘Well Ax, why don’t you search the bedrooms and I’ll check the library. We’ll meet up in the kitchen.’

It was childish, and exactly who Lorn had been when alive. Right then, she felt alive, and wanted to remain that way. Her mind told her she was as dead as everyone else in Tharaxis, but she didn’t care. She decided then and there, she was alive.

It was then the whispers stopped, and she’d noticed that Axiom had not dared reply. Lorn’s gaze snapped back to the throne and its occupant. Somehow, she felt she’d been noticed.

‘You are no longer needed,’ the whispers said, but this time the voices spoke in unison. It was deafening. A sound, she was certain, no living person could have withstood.

‘Begone, Thief of Existence, Bearer of Shadows. Begone, Seer of Souls.’ For some reason, she thought those were titles, and meant for her. The first made sense, though she didn’t feel it belonged to her in truth, the second likely meant Axiom, but the third had her stumped. She was a soul, so she saw other souls maybe?

Lorn, of course, decided she had no intention of leaving. She’d never liked being told what to do when alive, and she didn’t much care for it now. She could hear Scatter sighing over her stubbornness. It brought a smile to her face. She’d leave when she was good and bloody ready, and when she had a certain list in her possession. Not before.

It was then that Yaldo’s face changed. His eyes retreated inside his head, swallowed up by the pasty flesh that replaced them. His nose followed, while his jaw widened. The mouths on his arms and legs increased in number and Lorn knew they’d finally lost him.

He had no wings, but in every other way that mattered, the boy had become a souleater.