Imp felt the chapel coming to life around her this time. She was sitting in the main hall, not the back room. The sun was coming in through the shattered windows to her left, just enough to let her know that it was setting and not rising. The pew beneath her creaked as she shifted her weight, causing her to freeze and take in the rest of the chapel first. Nothing had really changed. The priest was standing near the broken altar, inspecting the damage. The shadows played tricks with her eyes as the silver mote-like souls floated overhead.
Imp tried to take a deep breath but felt a knot form in her throat. As soon as she had seen her father in the soul’s memories, she knew that Jakkob Morosia had been among the dead. Her father had died in the heart of the struggle. She might not have been able to see his courageous stand, but she knew that he would have pressed the bandits with more strength than a mortal should possess.
Even as she felt the memories of the soul fleeting from her mind, Imp knew that it had been a bandit’s soul. The stranger that she had seen get torn apart by the malevolent spirit was not a wandering knight or a retired adventurer. He had been one of the bandits that came to Delden Town and left it in ruins.
Imp knew that the truth was not so simple. She had felt the soldier-turned-bandit’s desperation to save Anna. She had felt the hungry pit in his stomach from weeks of too-small food portions. She had felt the rage swelling among the bandits at the mention of Rannow Fields.
Her memory held the township’s name but not its location or any information about it. Had it been one of the battlefields that she passed by on her way back to Delden Town? Or had it been where Red Mage Four had fought alongside the other guilds against advancing armies?
Her path had never been one for warfare. When the guild was forced into a contract to serve the state, she resigned. Assan had tried everything to get her to stay, but the Regent had made it clear that ignoring the state’s order for all guilds to support the war would be considered treason. She promised, after that first battle, that she would come back after the war was over. Assan and the rest of the guild had promised that they would survive for her return.
The war had ended, but Imp had never gone back. She received news of the guild’s demise well before the end of the war. Assan and the others were all gone, just like the townsfolk of Delden. Red Mage Four was another family that Imp had left behind and allowed destruction to find them.
Ahead of her, the priest finally moved away from the altar. The simple motion was enough for Imp to seize her thoughts and force a calming breath. For a moment, it looked like the priest was moving to check on her. Then he knelt at the podium that had been tossed aside in the attack. He was muttering something quietly, either talking to a soul or himself, but Imp could not make out the words.
Imp slowly stood up, the pew creaking softly beneath her. It was enough to get the priest’s attention. As she approached the ruined altar and upturned podium, the priest stood slowly to greet her. His tired eyes held no light or warmth to comfort her even if his words tried, “I am glad to see that you’ve recovered. If you hadn’t done so soon, I might have tried to move you to the bed to let you rest more comfortably…”
Imp nodded in appreciation, “If any comfort was left in Delden Town, I would take it. Thank you for taking care of me while I was out… again. How did you find me?”
Stolen story; please report.
“It was not hard… just follow the screams of dying souls.”
Imp sighed at the response. She asked, “What is going on out there?”
The priest shook his head, “I have a better question, how do you keep finding yourself in this chapel?”
“When I touched the arborist’s soul, back in the graveyard, I saw his final moments… then I woke up here,” Imp recalled the event and felt a rush of cold climb down her spine. “Then I watched a bandit’s soul bleed out light as it got torn apart by… something. As the light hit me, I was drawn into his final moments as well.”
The priest nodded, “An interesting experience, I am sure. Some call it soul reflection, but it is more like an infection. Pieces of their souls were caught inside of yours and all your soul could do to assimilate them, to survive, was to pull from the memories. Fortunately, you have a strong soul. If you failed to assimilate them, your soul would have corroded instead. A next meal for the dark specter haunting Delden Town.”
“What dark specter? Is that the-”
The priest cut Imp off with a soft hand raise. Then he asked, “You called him a bandit, but if you saw his moments, you know that is only part of the truth.”
Imp nodded, “They were bandits, but they were not senseless murderers. They didn’t even start the fight. Someone named Merrill did.”
The priest took a deep breath. Imp felt a strange pull of energy in the air. Then the priest spoke, “Yes… Merrill Augustin. He was born in Delden Town but trained at the Emerald-Ivory Tower of Sorcerous Art. He had only just returned a season before.”
“How did you know that?” Imp asked and then explained, “I saw Delden Town’s priest in the bandit’s final moments. You are not from here, are you?”
The priest shook his head. “I’m more of a traveler. You could say that I am on a pilgrimage of sorts and when I arrived in Delden Town, there were only souls here. As for how I know, it is a gift of mine. As I care for the departed and aid in their passing, their lives are mirrored in a spiritual token I carry in my own soul.”
“That sounds…” Imp was going to say painful, but she stopped when she realized what it sounded more like. “That sounds like soul reflection.”
The priest nodded, “In a sense, you could call it true soul reflection. While your contact with the souls caused a surge of spiritual power that your soul had to endure, I pull their pain and their regrets into my mirror and shoulder that burden so that they do not have to. Then, once they are gone, the tokens will eventually fade and be cast to the river.”
“Is that why you have not fixed the altar? Like you said before, you will be gone once the souls are?”
“Partly.” The priest said as he looked back to the broken altar. “What good had it done them? Their harvests, their seasons, and their lives all ended in a rush of fire and chaos. Now I have buried them all and I will help them pass on from this world. At least, I will help as many as I can before the remaining chaos consumes them. I have not seen such a corrupted ground.”
The priest paused for a moment but then continued. “Before you ask, yes, the chaos that I speak of… The dark specter that I speak of… The something that you have seen tearing apart the souls of the fallen… they are all one and the same.”
“What is it?”
“That is a good question.” The priest answered, “Why does it matter to you? Everyone here is dead.”
“Are they?” Imp asked, looking up at the floating souls overhead. “It feels like they’re caught. They cannot move on yet, not until you help them, but there is a specter out there threatening what remains of their lives. Should I just turn my back on them again?”
The priest turned his nose up as if he smelled something raw.
Imp continued, “I left Delden Town and never came back. If I had stayed, I may have died with the rest of them or I might have been the reason things ended differently. Just like with Red Mage Four, I wasn’t-”
Imp stopped as she felt that same tug of power. “I am not a helpless child anymore. I’ve delved-”
As the power started to tug again, Imp frowned. The priest asked, “Is everything alright? If you need someone to talk to, I can listen. I have a solid ear for the kinds of worries that seem to weigh on your soul.”
“No.” Imp shook her head, “I am going to help the lost souls of Delden Town.”
The priest nodded solemnly. “Then I suggest you start by visiting the spice fields.”