It was night, at least insofar as the six of us had agreed to get some sleep pretty much right after de-swamping our skin and clothes. Our arrival at the temple had caused some mixed feelings among the other people living here, turning the atmosphere somewhat uncomfortable.

Either because of that, or because the pain and peril of the previous day was picking up the slack and finally caught up with us, tormenting those trying to sleep, eat or just simply think in peace. Two of those activities applied to me and after failing to get a single wink of shut-eye for what felt like hours, I found myself shuffling across the temple grounds.

Ow. Ow. Ow. Existence is pain.

I tried to move my left arm as little as possible. The swelling beside my shoulder had gotten quite bad. Every larger movement from the elbow up caused pain, and sometimes an unwelcome and deep scraping.

“Ya’ look horrible, miss Rye.”

Harris was still up at this ungodly hour. Then again, I never really saw him sleep. Ever. He was always sitting there, knowing smile on his face. Ready to buy or sell your soul in exchange for goods and services.

“Nhhh. What do you want?”

He held up his arms, waving civilly. “Oh, nothing. Just seeing ya’ be uncomfortable in that armor. Ya’ look like dung, to be honest.”

I said nothing, waiting for the inevitable sales pitch.

“Say, what about buying some comfortable clothing? I’ve got a delivery of rather soft tunics, just in, just in. They’d look good on ya’, be sure of that.” He held up a bunch of tunics, somewhat cleaned compared to everything else. In whites, reds, greens, blues. "Pilfered from only the best of graves."

I would have recognized some for being expensive, ludicrously so, out of my league in my previous life. But my mind wasn’t quite there. A fog, inside and out, like vapored pain. Maybe that was why I didn’t say anything, why I immediately went for my many pouches. Then again, the months spent in nothing but underwear, underwrappings, and armor with old padding attached to it may have played a roll as well. The armor especially, pressing against my swollen break.

A hand was placed on my wrist. Gently, Harris made me look him in the eye.

“Miss? Miss Rye? I believe I’ve given you courtesy enough. Soul, if you would.”

Of course. What else. What else could a soul-sucking merchant possibly want? Possibly need? He doesn’t need coins or gems or a variety of knives.

Maybe it was the pain that made me fail to say no. “How much?”

“For ya’ self?” He smiled, as if he was doing me a favor. “Three dim. Or one bright.”

“Three to one?”

“That’s the ratio.”

It didn’t seem like a lot. But it was also not little. The thoughts of what paying with my soul swirled around in my mind again. Loss of memory, of strength, of health, of my self, of…

I think I’ve made up my mind. I won’t live in fear.

“Ok.” I said. “How do I do it?”

He nodded and put a hand to his chest. After a moment, it started to glow red, then yellow, then white as a ball of light shone from within. “Simply touch ya' bosom and collect from yourself. Think of brushing together scraps. Crumbs of bread from a plate. Fallen fruit.”

I did as he asked, and moments passed where time didn’t seem to pass at all. Then, it flowed. Like small trickles of water, something went from my heart and into my hand.

No, not from my heart. Higher. More up front.

I opened eyes I didn’t notice I had closed.

“A bit more.” Harris said. “There’s a soul-tax, I should’ve said. So, it’s on–“

“One tenth. I know.”

I held my hand up in front of me. It really was glowing, a lot brighter than even my normal bright light. But it didn’t feel good. It felt leaky. Like an overfilled cracked vase.

“Now, gently, yet swiftly, push it to me.” he said.

The ease with which it flowed from my hand to his mouth was frightening. A moment later, the glow had subsided. And I felt just that little bit emptier.

“Pleasure doing business with ya’” he smiled, an innocence that reminded me of Pim. And somehow, that only made me hate it more.

I snatched the red one, with yellow stitching in the shape of leafy vines, and held it in my lame hand. Turned it around. Inspecting it.

One stitched tear. No bad smell. Tight weave. Soft.

I stuffed it under one arm and then with somewhat clumsy impatience, I undid the straps of my chestplate. It fell to the ground with a clunk. When I tried to, I couldn’t lift my left arm without considerable pain. That and my right hand still not being well enough made me unable to finesse the tunic on alone.

I sat down in front of Harris, a cool breeze flowing against my sparsely wrapped body. He stared at me for a hot second or two. “Eyes up here.”

“Oh, sorry. Apologies. How very… unprofessional. Apologies.”

“Help me put it on.” I grumbled and turned my back to him.

He fumbled around a lot more than normal, wary, cowed. He took a lot of care not to touch anywhere he thought indecent, to the point that I thought he was afraid my skin would bite him if he somehow came into contact with any part of it. I chuckled as he gingerly made sure not to touch anything as he pulled it from head to hip and thigh.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“No. Nothing.”

I bet three feet dim light he hasn’t ever touched a woman.

When he was done and I had under some pain finagled my left arm through the sleeve, I turned to him and gave him my brightest smile. “Thank you, Harris.”

The effect was withering. “Ah. Well. Not a problem. It is, ah… customer service. Yes.” He said, not meeting my eyes anymore. “You, ah. Your body. It is doing, doing well. Really well. Getting a lot better.”

“Yup.” I could feel my smile turn almost cruel, almost predatory. “Sooo, that’s how soul trade is done?”

“Yup.” He replied.

“And the tax is always a tenth?”

“Nope. It increases with the size of the attraction. Transaction! I meant transaction.”

“Uh-huh.” My stare bore down on him, like the weight of ten Grugs and a particularly large, unwieldy boulder. “So, Harris. Tell me. When you took out your soul, it glowed brightly. But seeing you now, you don’t have any light. How so?”

He looked like someone just doused him with a bucket of ice water. “Well… every merchant has his secrets. Ya’ can’t compete with all your cards on the table, I tell ya’!”

“Uh-huh.”

Sadly, no amount of staring got him to budge and eventually, he even regained the (considerable) bravery to look me in the eye again.

I excused myself. My business here was done. But something had changed. I felt different. Confident. Less in pain. More in control.

When I returned to our collective sleeping corner and smacked down my weighty chestplate, I got a nearly slack-jawed stare from Avice, who was the first on watch duty tonight.

Surprised? Welcome to the club. I didn’t know I could even take initiative like that. But I did. And it felt glorious.

When I sat down, I didn’t feel like sleeping. Instead, I turned inwards, focused on my breath, on the sound of Ram. I turned to meditate, like so many unsuccessful times before.

And then I reached that place again. That perfectly calm place.

It had to be magic.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

I stood in front of the mountain of offering bowls, center of the temple, Glom nowhere to be seen.

Ugh. This hair-remedy stuff is itching like nobody’s business. And where is that stupid toad?

I wasn’t really looking for her for any reason in particular. I didn’t even really know what I’d do when I found her. Chat? Demonize? Apologize?

Some days, it’s like my body has a mind of its own. And those days are usually sleepless nights. It usually has exactly one message: MOVE! Do something! BOOORIIING!

Ugh. Why can’t I be normal?

I brushed down my tunic absentmindedly. It wasn’t dirty. A bit baggy around the chest and hip area, but that just meant it was nice and airy. The best part? It didn’t scrape against the swelling of my broken bone.

Clavicle. That’s what it’s called. Stupid clavicle.

I stumbled around, searching the temple high and higher for Glom the glommiest.

If she’s in the catacombs, then I’m just straight outta luck.

“The end is nigh!” A fat man yelled. “Noctis Aeterna! Sacrificium ad deos! Sacrifi–“

“Shut the hell up, pufferfish! I’ll pull yer tongue until you can taste yer arse if you ain’t quiet!” A gangly woman as tall as me even while sitting yelled.

Her legs were made of wooden tendrils and roots that clasped the ground. She stretched herself and they curled, like toes, like burning hair.

“Th’ fack are you lookin’ at?”

I moved on, past someone devouring a leg of mystery meat. Past a guy sharpening a sword attached to his wrist. A pale white sword.

That’s a bone, not a sword.

He gave me the stink eye and I stopped staring, simply stumbling along on my pilgrimage to the place where toads be.

Maybe it’s not gonna be that easy to find a bunch of friendly people like us.

Eventually, I sat down on a massive toppled-over gravestone in the temple grounds outside. A pair of guys were sparring some distance away, through the light drizzle from the heavens above. An unsteady clack-clack-click-click-clack only interrupted every now and again by the low thrumming twang of the sentinel’s greatbow.

The temple’s alive. With people. Though most of them just… aren’t doing anything with their lives. This is a second chance, to live life differently. Or just like before, but better.

I watched the spar continue on. It looked to be uneven, in favor of the smaller bearded man. Though even then, his less proficient opponent never failed to stand up again.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A gurgly voice asked from my side. I turned to look.

“Glom.”

“Worm.”

“Not a worm.”

“And I am not merely Glom.” Glom said. She was looking up at me, completely content to sit in the muck. Lazy frog eyes staring vacant. One blink. Slowly, another.

Closer to the gods than anyone here my ass. I’d sooner worship a glowing rock than, than… this.

“Thou wast searching for me.”

I stared ahead, purposefully not focusing on her.

“If you knew, why didn’t you show yourself?”

There was a sound of silence, and then a wet hop onto rock. “All whose soul shines bright, are worthy of a boon. I shall not deny any that chance.”

“…but?”

“However, to gain a boon, an audience must be held.”

“Ah.” I said and idly scratched at my dirty boots.

Another round of silence reigned.

“Tell me, did you sell a nasty looking guy a boon? Bad teeth, bad temper? Does a fire whip ring any bells?”

Her face was unreadable as always. Besides here eyes. They simply squinted slightly.

“A boon of flame. A heretical thing. Blasphemy.” She licked her lips. “I offer no such fiendish trappings.”

So, she had been hiding from them. Among others, which went unsaid.

“Then what do you offer? What’s the deal? A bit of soul for power unending? Become the hero you’ve always wanted to be? Slay the dragon, save the maiden, become king of your own small fief?”

“… if thou desires. And thou can offer proper sacrifice.”

I thought of many things for a moment. My first time in the swamp. The Bekki woman and the old lady I failed to save. My second time in the swamp. Fears of catastrophe. The painting, me atop a menagerie of monsters that were also me.

“Ok.” I said. I turned to face her.

Those eyes, hiding surprise. Unsuccessfully. I can read you, Glom.

“Thou hast decided upon a pact?”

My lips felt cracked and my heart started beating faster.

Did I? Am I really ready to do this? To sell my soul, a part of it, scrape it off and give it away? To a toad?

Yes. Yes. If Avice can do it, so can I. And by the looks of it, it helped her a lot.

“Do your worst.”

The silence that followed was awkward this time.

“Do not be overly dramatic, little worm.” She regained some of her previous composure and stared me in the eye. Inhuman, crescent frog eyes gazing deep, mesmerizing, searching.

I tore my gaze away from it and focused on her nose instead. A froggy nose. Two small holes.

Just imagine those are her eyes, for now.

“I ask thee again: Does thou wish to enter a pact with mineself?”

“Yes.” I swallowed, waiting for the worst to happen, for the wave to crash.

“Then thou must offer a sacrifice. Soul worth three feet of bright light, and nine dim.”

“That’s… a lot.”

“It is the first price. The first of three.”

Of course. And the curse was probably one of them.

I know what I can gain, somewhat. But what can I lose? I… I can’t help but count my worries and note how I can barely hold them all.

Still, I put my hand to my chest, and began to draw on that liquid soul. It came slowly at first, a trickle from above the heart, gathering in the palm of my hand. My lame hand.

At least I can hold one thing in it.

I scoffed. The flow quickened and soon enough went dry. I looked at my hand and instinctively knew it was not enough. Barely a foot bright and three dim. But my soul was dry, at least it felt like it.

Avice didn’t say it was like water, but rather that it was like… scraping.

And so, I scraped at the hard part of my soul. A brittle thing, crumbs and flakes peeling off. I felt things leave me. Strength in my limbs. A memory, something about a red drink that burned down my throat. I lost certainty. Confidence. Fear.

Horrid. A horrid feeling.

I looked down and besides my palms, sweating all over and breathing heavily. A ball of light, like a miniature sun shone in my right hand.

“Is… is this enough?” I knew the answer already, but I needed someone else to say it.

“That it is.”

Glom opened her mouth, and the tiny star got sucked away and out from me. For a moment, Glom glowed like a brown star, sitting barely two feet away from me. The clack-clack-click-click-clack in the distance grew slower. All the world seemed to ooze to a halt, until even the drops of rain ceased to fall. Nothing moved. Nothing but Glom.