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Teal light vanishes. I stand in my inbetween world, Ryel’s lifeless body in my arms. Carefully, I lay her on the chair. Her blonde curls spring at her cheeks as if she’s still alive. Her dark cheeks hold their natural flush, but her eyes stare toward the ceiling. No twinkle or sparkle. Her full lips don’t curl at the edges.
I may not be a harvester, but I know what they do and how they do it. Growing up in Thraves, I know enough. On my knees, I allow myself to think for a moment that she’s only sleeping. A slumber she’ll never wake from. Running my hand over the soft curls on the top of her head, I kiss her cheeks, wet with my tears.
Hanging on the wall is a pickaxe, its old wood handle smooth from many years of use. I stole it as a child for the sake of adding it to my collection of precious magic toys. I suck in a deep breath mottled with anguish and my body shudders. Ready, I swing the axe into the air and lower it to her forehead. A string of deep violet light stretches above her, coiling in a ball.
I move the head of the axe upwards and guide the soul. The violet sphere rises high into the room. It looks nothing like her. A soul, powerful and bright. The color of her light shows how strong her connection to magic is...was. Not washed out like the hybrids in Lols. It’s deep and radiant like a star. It ascends and I gulp as it disconnects from the axe. Soon she’ll be gone, and the thought of never seeing her again, holding her in my arms, our naked bodies touching, tortures my soul, twists it into something I don’t recognize. A part of me I’ve never accepted.
The deep purple lights reflects on the pearl handle of the reverser hanging on the wall. It won’t bring her back in physical form, but it can bring her spirit back temporarily. I drop the pickaxe and hold the ball of light in my energy grasp and fight Tranquility’s pull. It can’t claim her yet. I’m not ready. I know it’s wrong. It goes against the harvester code, but I’m not a harvester. I’m a realm walker.
She isn’t going anywhere. Tightening the walls of my world, I fight. My feet dig in and my stance straightens. Daggers of pain, sorrow, and rage merge into a dark force that eddies in the room. Shadows churn from the corners and join, gathering around her soul. They tug it downward.
No one can have her. Her soul isn’t for the taking. I use every ounce of my energy to envelop her soul sphere. Noise like a swarm of locusts reaches a crescendo. Her soul hangs between two worlds; the living and the dead. The noise festers in my ears, gnaws at my soul and heart. “She’s not yours!” I shout and give more and more until the pull of Tranquility stops. The room goes silent. I hear my own breath and carefully release the energy bubble I trapped her in.
The darkness melts away and the shadows vanish. I can’t explain what happened. There isn’t a book on my shelf that can offer any clarification. Somehow I kept Tranquility from taking her. A pit in my stomach forms, growing quickly. It fills with darkness. What have I done?
Grief is a powerful thing. I collect her body in my arms and take her to Lols. I understand why the commoners bury their dead, why they hold onto them with a vice grip. It is sorrow that fills me up as I part the earth about a meter from the Academy.
The gap is large enough for her to rest in peace. I lay her body in the hole, kiss her lips one last time and, through the tears that blur my vision, I cover her body with dirt. There will be no headstone to mark her grave, no service to see her off, only flower petals of my love as I drop them over the turned earth. They spin as a chilly breeze kicks and carries them into the air. They weave and bob, spiraling on the breath of wind, through the mountains, the tiny petals spread pieces of her throughout Lols.
To be continued...