“In that darkness, I discovered a part of myself that was both unfamiliar and intrinsic, as if I’d always known it was there, just waiting to say hello.”
----------------------------------------
“What are you doing?” I shout, wrapping my fingers around the rusty iron bars.
“The sun sets in an hour,” Dr. Ward replies impassively. “You should be quiet, or it will hear you.”
“What—” I stop myself when I realize what could hear me. The creature is out here somewhere, likely watching us. “Why are you doing this?” I softly whimper.
“Do you know how much energy is in a human soul?” He asks.
“I—” I struggle to form a reply. What kind of question is that?
“How much heat can hatred generate?” He continues.
“What are you talking about?” I rattle the gate again, searching for any weak points in the rusted metal.
He turns toward the only exit and walks down the dark corridor. “Echoes can’t see you, but I wouldn’t stick around too long. Overexposure can mess with your head.” He taps his finger to his temple.
“Let me out of here!” I scream. My voice rings against the metal bars.
He opens the thick wooden door and looks at me with his finger over his lips. Then, he leaves and shuts the door behind him. I hear the soft click of a lock on the other side.
And all at once, the darkness looks at me.
This is a joke, right? This isn’t the Dr. Ward I know. He would never lock me in a prison cell. I grab the bars and violently shake them. The old metal clangs and croaks, but doesn’t open. I reach my arm through to grab the padlock Dr. Ward added. The shiny metal contrasts against the brown rust. I yank the lock and slam it against the metal, but it holds firm.
I take a step back to look at the gate, but the darkness makes it difficult to make out any details. The barred window near the ceiling lets out only a sliver of gray light into the cell. I walk to the window and stand as tall as I can on the tips of my toes to reach the iron bars. I pull hard against them, but they don’t budge.
I drop my backpack on the damp stone floor and unzip it. The sound of the zipper echoes through the room just enough to mask my panicked breaths. I plunge my hand into the bag and grab my flashlight. I flick it on, and the sudden change in light nearly blinds me as if I just opened the Ark of the Covenant.
I squint and blink my eyes until they adjust, then examine my new cage. The paint and rust flake off the iron bars like crystals. After years of moisture has collected on the floor, the bars have begun to erode at the base. The stone walls are cracked and covered in vines. Everything is old and weak with age, but I’d still need the force of a small car to break any of it.
Thump!
A low knock bounces through the room. My body freezes and my muscles tighten with fear. My eyes slowly scan the room, searching for the source.
Thump!
My flashlight flickers and dies. Goosebumps crawl up my arms.
“Shit,” I mutter, slamming the flashlight against my palm.
I reach into my backpack to grab another set of batteries.
THUMP!
In my panic, I drop one of the batteries. It merrily rolls away and disappears into the black void. Shit, shit, SHIT! I drop to my knees and pat my hands on the damp, grimy stone. A mucus-like concoction of dust, mud, and dew clumps between my fingers as I helplessly search for the battery in the merciless darkness. Glow sticks have officially been added to my future packing list. I just pray my hands don’t discover something more organic on the ground.
THUMP!
The knocking is now much louder. I spread my arms out wide, hopelessly searching. Suddenly, I feel the cold metal of the battery against my finger. A wave of relief washes over me. I grab the battery, shove it into the flashlight, and slam the switch into the on position.
Every ounce of blood in my body drains into my gut as my light reveals a man’s pale shriveled skin pulled tightly against his face. His cheekbones nearly puncture his cracked and bruised tissue.
THUMP!
The man slams the back of his head against the stone wall. Every muscle in my body convulses and a shriek escapes my lungs. I stumble backward and slam my back into the opposing wall. Pain stabs into my spine.
In a trance, the corpse stares blankly into the darkness with empty black eye sockets, gently moving his cracked lips. Dark bruises have formed on his legs, elbows, and beneath his eye sockets. Thin tissue pulls tight against his face and hangs loosely from his twig-like arms.
My eyes dart around the room, afraid to look at him. Tears begin to pool in my eyes as the prison cell suddenly feels so incredibly small.
“H-hel,” a desperate voice gasps. The p falls away like they ran out of breath. But that sound came from somewhere else.
I point the light at the iron gate. My light shines through the bars and into the cell across from it. The shadow of another dark figure is outlined in the light against the wall. A man, equally as emaciated, stands slumped against the iron bars. His arms strain to hold him up.
“Ge— ou-t.” His whispered breath drags through the air.
Ironically, this is the first time a ghost has ever told me to get out, and it’s when I’m locked inside a prison cell. Still, it confuses me slightly. Echoes can’t see me. They’re merely remnants of moments in the past repeating over and over. So who is he telling to get out? Unless this is a vision, like in the cemetery. But in that vision, the cemetery became a forest as if I had gone back in time. My surroundings haven’t changed here. Unfortunately, the hell hole I now find myself in is very real.
Thump!
I flinch as my cellmate slams his head against the wall again. I glance at him and notice the bright red blood dripping from the back of his head. I close my eyes and whimper.
I grab my cell phone from my pocket and flip it open. Maybe I can call Mom, or Hannah, or the police even. Of the three, Hannah brings me the most comfort. But she could get hurt. What if the creature is out here waiting? I stop myself. Why the hell would Dr. Ward lock me in here? I let out a shuddered breath and think. Maybe this is some kind of test. I return my phone to my pocket and stand back up. I can get myself out of this.
“I wouldn’t stick around too long,” Dr. Ward’s words float in my head. Why would he say that? I’m locked in here. He must expect me to get out somehow. I scan my flashlight around the room to search for weak points.
Again, the result is the same. There are cracks in the stone, rusty hinges, and a crumbling ceiling, but nothing I can break without a tool or a ton of pressure. Old or not, this is a prison. However, the latch on the door is a simple sliding bolt lock. A fat iron bolt is slid into a metal catch, neither of which I have any hope of breaking, regardless of the rust. The padlock is attached to a rusty loop that passes through a thin metal tab, locking everything in place. That tab has warped and thinned from age. With a little heat, it will hopefully break.
I return to my backpack and grab the new box I added this morning. I open my dad’s box and find all of its contents neatly organized inside, including my hilt. The shimmering gold metal glistens from the light of my flashlight, painting the room in rays of bright yellow.
Softly, I wrap my fingers around the cold metal, feeling the intricate engravings beneath my fingers. I haven't been able to get it to ignite since the first time, but I guess it’s now or never. I grip it tightly and hold it out in front of me, then close my eyes. Dad's notebook said to connect with my last reaping. I take a deep breath and think of Mallory. The dread of her death floods my emotions. But something just feels missing. Where Mallory’s living emotions once flowed through my veins, only sad memories remain.
THUMP!
Another crack against the wall. Shiny red blood splatters against the stone. The man then mumbles something under his breath again and stares into space.
I look down at the hilt. It isn't any warmer than my hand. A harsh reality sets in, and I know why the hilt won't light. Mallory is gone. Whatever energy I had borrowed from her rift has depleted. I'm merely channeling an empty memory. I need to reap another.
I look at the man leaning against the wall. His jaw twitches as he silently mouths words I can’t make out. I grab Dad's notebook and flip through the pages, searching for anything about reaping. I didn't see anything before, but his writing is so scatterbrained. Maybe I missed it. The only section marked as reaping goes on some tangent about meditation and connecting with the Earth.
‘Connect with the world around you. You know, when I always heard about meditation, I thought the goal was to empty your mind into a blissful silence. Sounds great don’t it? But it isn’t that at all.
The point is to listen. So I just close my eyes and get into a comfy space. Then, I just listen to my body, my soul. Your mother will tell you, my soul has a lot to say. But I let my mind wander and touch the energy around me. We humans filter out much of the world to protect ourselves. But true power comes when you knock on the Earth and listen. Then, you let it in.’
That last sentence reminds me of what Dr. Ward had said, “Let them in, reaper.”
I look at the bony man slumped against the wall. Once more, he slams his head hard against the stone and mumbles something quietly. His lips don’t move enough to make out the words. His breathing is soft and labored, and his ragged clothing hangs loosely over his body. The man in the cell across from mine is in a similar state. They must have starved to death in here. But how could that happen? The police wouldn’t just leave them here to die, would they?
I sigh. I guess I need to listen and find out. I’d rather dig a hole through these stone walls with my fingernails than listen to their croaking breaths. My mind trembles at the thought of what they must have done to deserve such a heartless death. But I need to connect with one. I need to show Dr. Ward that I can do this.
I sit down in the middle of the room with my legs crossed and place my hilt beside me. The damp floor seeps into my pants. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. My shoulders slowly drop, I unclench my jaw, and I stop picking at my nails.
The earthy cocktail of rust, mud, mold, and decay crawls into my nostrils. I feel the cold mud that clumps on my clothing. The muscles in my back still ache from hitting it against the wall. I’m surprised the stitches in my arm don’t hurt today. Just a slight itch. I take in another breath. The cool, damp air fills my lungs. It has a subtle sour taste.
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Soon, raspy breaths echo into my head like a long-legged spider crawling into my ear. My body cringes, but I keep my eyes closed. I wait in silence, listening for any words to come from those awful breaths.
THUMP!
Suddenly, the crack of bone against the wall lights up my senses. In the darkness, beneath my eyelids, a gray light glows in the corner of my vision. I turn my head to follow the glow.
Strands of silver vines crawl across the room, gently blowing in an invisible draft, all connecting to the dark silhouette of the man slumped against the wall. The light is dull, like when I turn off my bedroom lamp and the inverse shapes of my room linger in the darkness.
I feel warm blood pump into my cheeks as the tiny vessels around my eyes swell. I open my eyes, and what I see stops my breathing. I can still see the strands of silver stretching around the room, though their color is more thin and translucent. Cautiously, I reach my hand up toward one. It feels as light as a single hair, but a rush of loneliness suddenly weighs on my chest.
Loneliness is a familiar poison. It's slow and calm. It’s an invasive reminder of everything I don't have. It pokes at the front of my brain again and again. It's a cold hunger deep in my gut to scream. A desire to be heard and to be held. But there's no one to scream at, no one who would understand or care enough to try, no one who wouldn't try some mundane attempt at sympathy, telling me that I'm just stressed or that it's normal to feel this way. Yeah, I know this feeling well.
I keep my hand pressed against the strand of light, and I narrow my vision on the man’s lips. As he begins to move his jaw I close my eyes once more and listen.
“Forgo-ten. Ffor-sa-ken.” Soft, raspy breaths barely touch my ears. “They run. They scream. They fall. I sit. I decay.”
THUMP! He smacks his skull against the stone.
“No more screams,” he cries.
Suddenly, a shrieking woman’s cry echoes from outside the cell window. Slowly, I open my eyes and look toward the window, terrified of what I might see. Silence overtakes the room. Then, another blood-curdling shriek echoes in the distance, followed by the sound of soft meat being split open.
THUMP!
“No more screams,” he begs as blood drips down his neck.
My mind scrambles to explain the screams. They couldn’t be real, I hope. They must be a memory, his memory. I try to think of why a woman might be screaming in these woods. What if the monster attacked her? But that would mean the monster has been here for hundreds of years. Every part of me wants to shut it out, but Dr. Ward’s demand rings in my head, “Let them in, Reaper,” and I reach for another strand.
Fear. The man’s fear and desperation flood my mind as thunder cracks outside. I sit here in the darkness, waiting to be found, to be killed. It’s too much. My head swells with heat, but again I grab another damned strand. His hunger, his pain, his madness, all of it explodes in my skull like broken metal pots slamming together.
I want to scream, but I can’t. I don’t have the energy. My body is weak and frail. I don’t have the strength to stand, and it hurts to lift my arms. I feel my skin sag against my bones. Another night passes, and more screams of agony pierce the skies. Every night, they run, they scream, and they die. Make it stop.
“No more screams,” we beg in unison.
Suddenly a wave of heat washes over my body. The screams stop, and my muscles relax. Twinkling dust floats around the room, softly circling me, then flowing into my body. My skin warms as the last of the dust touches my skin, and all at once, the light vanishes. Once more, I’m left in a cold, empty cell lit only by my flashlight. I wait a moment to hear the crack of bone, or screams, or thunder, but they don’t come.
Gently, I pick up my hilt. A sudden warmth pulses in my fingertips. As I stand, I’m surprised by the new strength that vibrates through my muscles. My body feels lighter and blood surges into every muscle.
I hold the hilt out in front of me and release a slow breath, searching for that loneliness, desperation, and pain. Then I grasp it. Heat rushes from my chest and into my arms. White static cracks around the room, and tiny particles of light explode from the hilt, swarming around it like mosquitos. I tilt the hilt forward, preparing for a shimmering blade to emerge like before. And, as if on command, the particles form together like threads of light. They weave into intricate patterns, and in one decisive motion, they pull tight to form a long white blade.
I did it. I actually reaped an echo. Silver light fills the room as static ripples around the blade, just like the one I ignited in my bedroom. But it isn’t the same shape as the first one. This sword is more crude and simple. There’s no elegant butterfly-shaped guard; in fact, there isn’t much of a guard at all. But I can feel the energy course through my body and into my new weapon.
A smile of wonder emerges on my face. I wave the sword around and admire its construction. Tiny elegant knots of glowing threads weave together into a deadly blade. Cautiously, I hold my hand near the edge and feel the searing heat spill from it.
I don’t know if this thing can cut through metal or how durable it is, but there’s only one way to find out. I walk to the gate and hold the sword up over my head, then swing it down hard against the iron gate. But, to my surprise, the blade simply passes through the bars as if they aren’t even there. I stumble forward, thrown off by the lack of force.
I catch myself against the bars and look at the blade, praying it isn’t broken. The glowing blade doesn’t have a scratch. I inspect the iron gate, but it too is completely unscathed. I know I didn’t miss; it should have smacked the iron bars hard. Slowly, I press the blade against one of the iron bars once more. The blade passes right through the metal like a ghost through a wall. What a useless piece of—
Just before I throw the sword away in rage, I notice a dull red glow emanating from the iron bar where the blade is touching. I hold my hand close to the gate and immediately feel heat radiating off it. It may not be cutting the metal, but it sure as hell can melt it.
I press my face against the rusted bars and search for the latch. Then, I pierce the blade through the gate until it hits the weakest part of the lock. If I hold it here long enough, hopefully it will melt the metal tab holding the bolt in place. The buzz of heat echoes through the old prison. Sparks leap from the metal and it begins to glow a dull red.
I look up for a moment and spot two empty eye sockets staring at me—or through me. I was able to reap one echo, but my neighbor across the hall is still hunched against his gate.
“F-ail-ure,” he whispers.
“Yeah?” I mutter, watching the metal flicker with sparks. “Watch me.” Heat swells in my face. “I’m covered in mud, rust, and who knows what else in this fucking cage. Maybe some version of me would rather stay in here and die. Maybe a part of me would be happy to just disappear and let the world go by without me. It never did me any favors.” The metal begins to glow a bright orange. “But I’m done feeling sorry for myself. That part of me can stay here and rot, I’m getting out.”
I pull the sword from the lock and reach it between the bars. I pray to myself that this hilt isn’t fragile, then I slam its base against the glowing hot metal. Sparks explode from the lock, filling the room with light. Again and again, I bash the molten iron. Finally, the small tab holding the bolt in place sheers off.
With my other hand I pinch the bolt and try to slide it out of the catch. It nudges little by little, but just before the bolt releases, it sticks. I groan as I squeeze my fingers between the metal to nudge the bolt, but it doesn’t move. Frustrated, I push my shoulder into the gate. It gives slightly.
I take a step back and ram the gate. It shoves forward a bit more. I groan with frustration and blow the hair out of my face, then with one final effort I shove all of my weight into the iron bars. With a loud clang the door swings open. As the door gives, I stumble forward and fall onto the stone floor.
“Ge— ou-t,” the man breathes.
“Gladly,” I sigh.
I stand and hold the glowing sword up as a torch, then walk back into my cell and grab my things. I look back at the corpse slumped against the wall, no more than a bundle of ragged bones now. I notice a crack in the base of his skull. Fear and loneliness battered his mind every night until it killed him. I will not make the same mistake.
I look up at the narrow window. The light outside has almost completely vanished. I don’t have much more time. Holding the glowing sword up for light I quickly walk down the narrow corridor. As I pass each prison cell, I notice more and more grim faces staring at me. I can hear their labored breathing as I pass them. Everyone in this prison was left behind. But why?
I reach the thick wooden door of the entrance and shove my weight into it. I hear the soft rattle of chains outside. Dr. Ward really didn’t make this easy on me. I prepare to plunge my sword into the door, but the light suddenly flickers. I look at my sword in horror as the energy dims and disintegrates in front of me.
“No no no NO!” I shout.
I slam my fist against the door, and pace back down the dark hallway. I don’t know how much longer I can stay in here. With every minute, I can feel rage and desperation slinking into my mind, and it’s getting difficult to tell if those are my emotions or someone else’s. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself. I look up at the pitiful faces looking out from their cells. I need to reap another.
“Ff-ail-ure,” the man at the end of the hall whispers.
“You’re up first,” I growl.
I close my eyes and relax my shoulders. It’s easier the second time. In the darkness, I let all of my fears fall away and invite the shadows in. Silver strands of light appear, gently blowing around me.
I reach for the first one. Shame. Disappointment fills my soul. It hits me like a sack of bricks. His emotions erupt in my mind and become my own. I have failed my family, I’ve disappointed my parents, and worst of all, I’ve left my daughter without a father. I’m a failure. She’s alone and I’m locked in this prison. My only hope is that they get out before he finds them.
I let his shame fill my mind. I embrace it all, then let it burn inside me. Heat floods my skin, and my eyes burst open, their color likely darker than the shadows around me. I march back to the door and hold up my hilt, then stop. The door is made of thick lumber, nearly eight inches thick, and reinforced with iron brackets. If I burn the wood, it could fill this cramped prison with smoke. I’d suffocate before the door came down.
Dammit. If Maggie were here, she’d probably tell me to use some sort of superpower or magic spell to blow the door down. She’s already named all of my abilities so far; she’d know exactly what to do. Sorry, Maggie, I’m not a superhero, and I don’t know any spe— Spirit bomb.
At the Davidson house, energy exploded from my body and shook the whole building. Maggie dubbed that ability “spirit bomb.” I still have no idea how I did that, but I was able to hit the back door with a gust of energy. Maggie called it my “telekinetic burst.” It was pretty weak back then, but maybe it’s stronger now. How did I do that again? I visualized myself surrounded by fog.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I imagine myself lying in the white snow, watching the clouds pass overhead. Slowly, fog rolls in, blanketing the town and hiding everything around me in a white void. This time, something is different. Tenderly, the fog rotates around me like a stream of water. I lift my hand and notice the fog subtly shift.
As I raise both hands, the falling snow halts, and the air freezes around me. I wave my hands to the left. The cold air mirrors my movement and rushes around me. Then, as I wave my hands to the right, it races past me in the same direction. I can’t help but smile, feeling a deep connection to something deep inside me. The air swings behind me as I lift my hands. Then, in one decisive shove, I slam my hands forward and open my eyes. A wave of heat rushes from my arms, warping the air before me as it cascades down the hall.
BANG!
The large wooden door rattles hard against the stone, and the chains clang together outside, but to my disappointment, it stands firm. I sigh in frustration, but I did it. It just needs more power—a lot more power.
I close my eyes once more, and invite the darkness.
Strands of silver slowly crawl from the prison cells around me. I reach for a strand belonging to yet another echo of a person left in this prison to die. Hatred. It erupts in my bloodstream and burns my skull. I clench my fists until my knuckles turn white until I force myself to relax and let it in. I feel the heat build in my chest, but I need another. I grab another silver cord. Doubt. It sits on my shoulders and pulls me to my knees. Heat burns in my chest, and my throat tightens.
Maybe I’m too weak to do this. Maybe I don’t deserve to get out. I can’t breathe. I open my eyes and gasp for air. I taste iron on my lips as bright red blood drips from my nose.
“You’re a badass!” Maggie’s voice echoes in my head.
I really don’t feel badass right now. It feels like scalding hot oil is pulsing through my veins, and every doubt, fear, and insecurity is swirling in my head. Maybe she’s wrong. Maybe I’ll die in here. I doubt I’d be missed.
“I just thought I was doing the world a favor.” The memory of Maggie’s crushing words nearly stops my heart.
Maggie was wrong to think such a horrible thing. She deserves to know that. She deserves to know how wonderful I think she is. She deserves to know how much the world needs her—how much I need her. I can’t leave her alone. She believes in me, whether I think I deserve it or not. Fuck it. Let’s be badass.
I punch my fist into the stone and stand back up. I close my eyes, and once more those grim silver strands dance around me. I grab another. Madness pours over the cracks in my mind and seeps into every pore like liquid mercury, but I grab another and another. Heat rips across my skin, and molten oil explodes in my chest. I lower my defenses, let it all in, and let it burn.
Once more, I imagine that fog surrounding me in the snow. Only it isn’t a fog, but a raging black storm. Thunder snaps around me. I raise my hands and watch the storm swirl around me.
I open my black eyes as energy surges through my body. White hot static cracks around me, whipping the iron bars. I am both shadow and flame. I am the reaper of souls.
With a bloody scream, I shove my arms forward. A concussive wave of heat explodes from my arm.
KA-BANG!
The door hinges break from the wall, and the door careens out from the building, cartwheeling across the grass until it splashes into the water.
The pink light of sunset and bright white snow feels almost foreign to the darkness I’ve gotten accustomed to. Then, as my adrenaline settles, I feel my energy drain into a puddle of nothing. The heat dissipates and is replaced with throbbing pain.
“Reaper!” Dr. Ward’s proud voice feels almost like a growl.
I look out and find him standing just out of the blast range of the doorway, his arms crossed with pride.
“I was almost ready to give up on you,” he says with an eyebrow raised.
“So was I,” I groan. Part of me wants to punch him, though it wouldn’t do any good. My arm feels like it would snap against his massive chest.
“I reaped them,” I say.
“Indeed.”
“Does this mean I’m tellúrii?” I can’t hide my excitement. If my dad were here, I’d squeeze him. It’d make me so happy to share this with him.
“No,” Dr. Ward's cold response nearly breaks me.
“What?” I argue. “But I—”
“You accomplished what any reaper could do,” he cuts me off. “You still have a long road ahead of you.”
The defeat in my face must be pitiful. He looks at me and sighs.
“But you did well, Autumn.” He smiles. “I’m proud of you.”
My chest flushes with warmth. The last time I heard those words was when Dad taught me to swim. I had kicked and punched in the lake for weeks. Finally, I learned to calm myself and swam a whole three feet. Dad lifted me out of the water as if I had swam three miles.
“Thanks,” I manage to say without a single tear.
“Come,” he says. “Let’s get you home before your mother notices how long you’ve been gone.”
Together, we begin our march out of the woods. We stomp through mud and tall grass, when a deep voice croaks through the woods.
“Hey!” That raven-like voice sends a shiver down my spine.
Dr. Ward snaps his head around, his eyes morphing into deep pools of glossy obsidian, while dark veins branch out like spiderwebs under the skin of his cheeks. His impenetrable gaze sends a shiver down my spine. If I didn't know him, I'd be terrified of him. I think a part of me is.
“What is that thing?” I ask quietly.
“Regret,” he replies.