“Help. Help me. I think I’m lost.” The little girl’s words were eaten by the darkness. There was no echo, no reply, and no reaction, there was just unblinking darkness. Through the darkness she began to run, but no matter how she ran the darkness around her was unchanging. Slowly her running turned to walking; she tried to take a breath to calm her thoughts, but then noticed there was nothing there, no air to feed to her pained muscles.
For a moment she panicked, was she in outer space? People couldn’t live without air could they? With a look of resignation she waited for her death, maybe it would have been better if she stayed up that night, if she died with her family rather than cold and alone in a darkness she couldn’t find an end to. Time, time seemed different too, it was hard to tell how long had passed while she held her breath, but it had to have been long enough right? How long could a human live without air? Five minutes? Slowly she counted the seconds. One, two, three, when she got to sixty she started over again and put one finger up. First finger, second finger, third finger, there was no discomfort, if anything the pain in her muscles was slowly easing. Four fingers, five fingers, she twitched slightly, waiting for death to descend upon her. Six fingers, seven fingers, eight fingers, maybe death was delayed, was he busy? Nine fingers, ten fingers, she was out of fingers, was there any point counting? Her legs felt better too, maybe she could just walk?
She began walking and time slipped by, it was hard to say how much, but suddenly she saw something, an old man in a formal suit with a walking stick, his face so aged she wondered if he was even still alive, but he was walking so he must be right?
She hesitated, should she call out to him and ask for help? He was the only one here, but her parents had also told her not to bother strangers by talking to them. Perhaps the deciding factor was that just looking at the man scared her, it felt like that feeling when you just wake up from a really really bad dream. Only it didn’t go away like it does with the dreams, instead it just got stronger and stronger. She almost wanted to run away, but that would be rude, that would be, the feeling was growing stronger and stronger and she wasn’t sure what to do.
“Well that’s strange.” The man said. Well, he didn’t say the words, it sounded more like “Pssht psshewshet”, but somehow the meaning was clear even without the words? “Little girl” he continued in the strange whistling serpentine tongue “would you give me your name?”
She froze, like a child caught stealing cookies, before she slowly turned to him with a polite nod of her head she gave the man her name, but that was weird, somehow, somehow she couldn’t remember it anymore. What was her name, she’d just said it a moment ago it was, it was, but she was drawing a blank.
“I see.” The man replied uncertainly. “That’s a rather terrible name to give a child, who gave you this name?” the man asked as the fear continued to mount in her.
“My, my parents, mister” She replied, stuttering slightly. She wanted to turn and run, but she couldn’t bring herself to move, but he legs would no longer move.
“That’s… rather cruel.” The man replied. Waving his hand a grand gem encrusted throne of ebony and obsidian appeared behind him, onto which he sat. “I hope you’ll forgive my rudeness, my knees aren’t quite what they used to be, and all this standing isn’t doing them any favors.” He sighed faintly. The rising fear made her own knees fail as well, and she fell backwards onto a similar chair, pee threatening to spill from her bladder onto the beautiful artifact below her, somehow thinking of how the man might react allowed her to use the same fear that made her want to wet herself, to instead steel her resolve and hold it in.
While she struggled internally the man continued to speak. “I will let you use part of this name, lets pick a pretty part, ‘Flower’. Now I’m not bound by any rules of exchange, but let’s see, how can we make this most fun? How about this.” The old man pulled out a silver knife and, for a moment acceptance of death filled Flower’s heart once again, but the resolve faded as the man spun the knife in his hand to present it to her handle first.
The fear had built too far, she felt a crushing weight of fear trying to crush her heart and kill her outright, but she still extended a shaking hand to accept the knife. “You may go.” The man added, a tinge of sympathy in his voice, and the moment she heard it she bolted, shooting up from the chair faster than she believed possible, but before she even registered that, she was running faster than she’d ever run in her life. Slowly the fear began to fade as a numbing pain of exhaustion set into her bones, but still she ran and ran until her legs gave out leaving her to faceplant helplessly into the darkness, gasping for not-breath for an untold span of time.
As soon as she had the strength to she looked back, but around her there was only the familiar, calming, and reassuringly empty darkness. Quietly she shuffled to the side and relieved herself, uncertain if the need had purely been inspired by fear or if it was a biological need, either way there was no point holding it with nobody around only to ruin her pants later.
Business done, Flower’s gaze was drawn down to the knife in her hand. She felt like a psychopath walking around with a knife like that, and found herself looking around her simple cotton garments for somewhere to put it, but surprisingly the knife disappeared. In shock she searched for it, only for it to reappear in her hand. That was, odd, but not quite endless darkness weird, or even sudden inexplicable fear of the elderly weird, so she again wished she had somewhere to put it, and watched with fascination as it sank into her palm.
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With nothing better to do she began to walk through the darkness once more. It was hard to say how much time passed, hours, days, years? Time seemed, weird. She wasn’t getting hungry or old or thirsty, and with a slow walk she didn’t get tired either, so she simply walked. The next thing she came across was a giant squid covered in teeth and eyes, which she ran from and was surprised to find she had escaped. Next was a sort of giant dog who’s fur burned with a flame so hot she couldn’t approach even if she’d wanted to. Third, she saw a green woman dressed in rags crying on her own.
Could she be lost too? Green, she vaguely recalled that in some game goblins had been green, could this be a poor stranded goblin lady? In any case she looked sad, alone, and every bit as lost as Flower was. Slowly, carefully Flower approached the crying girl, but when she went to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, the other girl spun around and hugged her. Flower was only half the height of the other girl, and found herself instantly subsumed by the hug; tender arms tense with nervous agitation strongly embraced her, pulling her up into warm soft, oddly scaly skin. Flower didn’t know it before, but somehow this was exactly what she needed. All this walking and wandering, finding monsters and emptiness, the loss of time and loss of her family, it was all still there in her heart, just behind a dam, and now that dam burst. Flower wormed her arms out of the bigger girl’s embrace and wrapped them around her in turn as she too began crying, and somehow, somehow it wasn’t as bad crying together. Somehow it was good to feel warmth and companionship in the empty vastness of the dark shadowy void.
Every now and again the other girl would say something. Sad words, affectionate words, worried words, words filled with longing, but unlike with the old man, Flower couldn’t understand a single one. Still, she would reply in turn, speaking of the pain in her heart, the sadness, how she missed her family, her home, how suddenly she had nothing, nobody left in her life. Somehow, she didn’t think the other girl understood her either, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that there was someone to speak to, that they could hear each other’s voice, that they could feel each other’s warmth, that they weren’t alone. Flower didn’t know if their hearts synchronized or if the girl didn’t have one, but the same beat passed through them.
It was impossible to say how long had passed before a third voice suddenly interrupted them. “Et-hem.” The voice said, as if clearing its throat, but oddly enough it felt like three voices overlapping, one was a vary formal and distinct “Et-hem”, another more like a rough cough, and a third akin to a singsong sigh.
Almost at the same time the two released each other, but strangely the green woman pushed Flower slightly behind her as she hissed at the new arrival; a tall sinewy woman with pointed ears, silver hair, and wrinkled bronze skin. She was dressed in a fitted red vest over brown pants and shirt with a heavy leather rucksack. The woman spoke again, and again three voices seemed to overlap, Flower focused on the one she could understand. “I’m a merchant of souls.” It was a statement made with confidence as if it was meant to clarify everything.
Was everything in this dark terrible place so ominous and haunting? No, not everything, her eyes drifted back to the green girl who stood defensively in front of her, smooth scaled skin with a long serpentine tail, lips pulled back threateningly to reveal sharp inward pointed teeth. Well, maybe everything, Flower had to admit that if she’d met the green girl in such a pose she may well have fled, but while they hadn’t spent long together, they had bared their hearts. Well, there was the language barrier, but at least the pain and sorrow was shared, and even now the girl was protecting her. Maybe it was an old people thing, maybe the older you were the more ominous and scary you became.
With exasperation the old woman clarified in her strange multilayered voice. “Merchants of souls are bound by our employment contract to never attack, kill, or in any other form steal from others. We trade in all things, souls, lifespan, memories, emotions, items, abilities, information, services, everything from grandiose abstraction to the simple and mundane. We are likewise bound to trade within margins of equivalency, weighted by the needs, wants, and emotional attachments of the parties involved of course. Likewise the contract makes it unwise to attack or rob us in turn.” She gave the two of them a measured look as if trying to let that sink in before continuing. “I’m packing light as a result of where we are, so options may be limited, but this goes faster if you think of what you want and are willing to pay and I’ll try my best to see what I have that can make that happen.”
Flower blinked, and saw some but not all of the tension fade from her new friend. Flower for her part looked at herself and her friend, quickly noticing that they both had only cloths to their name, and that that might be a generous statement given the rags that sparsely covered her friend’s privates. The whole offer sounded oddly similar to demons from hell, and Flower’s parents had told her never to trust demons, and never to treat her soul lightly. Flower was a good girl and wouldn’t trust the demon, but she had to admit they were lost, or at least she was “Can you help me get home?” she asked, hopefully.
The old woman’s face scrunched up with displeasure. “I cannot. Look kid, you’re in the void, the primordial chaos that spans beyond the edge of your world, beyond the edge of all worlds. I’m not sure how you got here and I don’t particularly want to know, but unless you have a signal stone, or trail markings, or another way I don’t think you can get back. If you know the coordinates a god might be able to open up a path, might, but that won’t be cheap, and I’m not a god. The best I can offer you is” she paused a moment, thinking, before reaching behind her to rummage around in the rucksack. After a span her hand emerged with a small brass key, just big enough to fill Flower’s palm. A loop of string was tied to the key as if it was meant to be worn as a necklace. “There we go, a path forwards, if you hold it by the string and follow the key it’ll eventually lead you to a world, but do you have anything valuable enough to pay for it?”
Flower thought of the knife she was given, but she felt a sense of foreboding remembering the fear the old man instilled in her which prevented her from pulling it out. Instead her hands clenched around her cloths, she hesitated, but then asked “Are, are these worth enough?”
“While certainly a fascinating and novel albeit contradictory piece of spell work, I’m afraid not.” The old lady replied.
“…but, but, I don’t have anything else!” She said, a hint of desperation crawling into her tone which made most of the tension return to her friend.
“Don’t sell yourself short child, you have you whole life ahead of you yet.”