I don't remember my last name. It's like someone stuck a hand into my mind and removed it. I barely noticed it at first, it feels natural to not know. I remember Jonna, I remember Emma. Mikael. Kristina. They are the most important to remember. Jonna, Emma, Mikael, Kristina.

I sit up in my bed and try to say my name. My lips won't even move. I try again. The same thing happens. If anyone would see me, they wouldn't even notice that I was trying to say something.

"Emma."

It sounds like I have a large and hot piece of food in my mouth.

"Mikael."

It sounds strange and my entire throat is burning up from the inside.

It's time to forget now, I know that. It will only hurt. Yet I continue.

"Kri... Kristina."

It feels like I'm about to throw up scorching hot ashes for each syllable I say. I pull my knees to my chest; it hurts so much I don't want to say anything at all. I want to cry until I cannot. I lay down again and let the tears fill my eyes. It has been a while since I cried, I don't fight it like I normally do. I know that I have to get up and get the first contract from Blomst, but I'll lay here until I have no choice. For once I'm happy I'm dead and don't have a body that leaves signs of crying.

"Emma," I say when it doesn't hurt as much. I whimper when I feel the fiery pain grow from somewhere deep inside me.

"Mikael." I take a deep but shivering breath. "Kristina."

When it hurts too much I continue to cry until I can say their names again.

***

Blomst sits behind her messy desk with piles of papers, they look even taller today. Her hands move quickly over the pages. Strands of hairs have escaped her hairdo and hangs down her forehead, or is tucked behind her ear.

I take a few steps into the room filled with flowers and greenery. She looks up behind the many strands of hairs and blow them to the side. She searches for the black stone tablets where my – not Clover's nor Rampion's but mine – contracts are written.

"There you are," she mutters.

Blomst pulls out two black stone tablets form one of the piles. They're a bit bigger than her hands, and somewhat thicker than cardboard. She lays them over the messiest but thinnest pile.

"You decide yourself what you'd prefer to do with the contracts."

Not even a greeting. I carefully pick up the tablets from the desk. There are two names written – Joseph Davis and Allie Reid. Underneath their names there's a number, the number of days until I'm supposed to reap their souls. One of them is in a few days, while the other – Joseph Davis – is more than a month from now.

"It's up to you whether you chose to go visit them right away, or when their souls are ready," she says and pulls a hand through her hair to catch the loose strands.

Something is clearly going on with the guardians. Blomst is messy, but this is a new extreme. And they had mentioned something being stolen from Arkaros. I have a feeling I don't want to know the details. Yet there's a curiosity there, one that is likely more dangerous than I'd like to admit.

"If you focus you can put away the contracts," she says.

Put away likely doesn't mean what it sounds like. It probably has something to do with magic, in the same way she could conjure chairs. Maybe they had always existed but were put away in some magical world that only existed for her.

"Focus on the core of your mind," she adds.

I look at the contracts. I think of a strange place existing in my mind and when they're still there I close my eyes. I imagine it far into my mind, so deep that I have to peel back layer by layer. When I open my eyes again the contracts are gone and Blomst has created a door on the wall.

"Well done."

I don't answer and make myself ready to leave this room covered with a heavy atmosphere.

As usual the Eleven lays on the other side of the gate. Now when I'm no longer an apprentice I can go wherever I want, but I don't have the courage to take that extra step, not alone. And I doubt Clover will keep his promise of taking me and Artemis to Arkaros. In the worst-case scenario, I could ask Rampion or Sun. Artemis would likely also bring me if I asked, but it was clear she was busy. The last time I saw her she said something about Cerberus needing her help and I hadn't seen her a single time in the dining hall since then.

I walk down the white stairs. I don't want to go into the forest, through the path with the reflecting black stones, not see the white buildings that hide behind the forest. I stay at the last step of the stairs. I can hear the melody from the trees, it's so low that I shouldn't be hearing it, yet it still able to force itself through. I cannot shut it out.

I hold out my hand and cup them. My thoughts drift to that place in my mind, it's easier now that I've already found it, and when I open my eyes one of the black stone tablets lay in my hands. Joseph Davis – United States of America, Colorado, Denver. I've never seen him before, yet I can see his face in front of me. A smell of the sea tickles my nose, and a pain in my lungs sneak upon me. It makes me cough a few times. I pick up the gate stone and it feels like it stings my fingers, but soon they feel just as numb as before.

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I extend my open hand, and the white door unfolds itself as the stone falls from my palm. I smell the ocean once again. This time I don't knock.

I step into another corridor in a hospital. It's broader than the one in Poland and the walls are blue and white. I can also read and understand what the signs are saying. But I don't need to read to be able to know where I'm going.

I catch the gate stone in my free hand once it has folded itself into a stone again. I barely need to think for both of the objects in my hand to disappear, I know where they are and how easy it'd be to get them to appear again.

I ignore the nurses and their muffled speech that I'm not allowed to understand. I'm at the end of the corridor, in front of the door that has called on me, it's thumping like a heart. I take a deep breath. How should I act? What shall I say that I am? The humans I had reaped had already died, and it had been Rampion that reaped Paweł, but he had already visited him earlier. I haven't the faintest idea how to do this and I wish Clover was here to explain what the hell I'm supposed to do, what game I have to play to make him trust me.

The smell of the ocean is strong, even though we're in the middle of the USA. It has to have something to do with Joseph.

I take another deep breath and walk through the door. A wave of emotions hits straight into my face, it's hard to breathe and I almost fall out of the room. I tense up and smell the ocean again, it hangs over us like heavy invisible clouds.

I can feel his pain. In his chest, throat, and lungs. At the same there's something peaceful and tranquil over the room, and I realize that he's not scared of dying. He's ready if the time is right. He doesn't hate life. He has simply accepted destiny for what it is – no matter when it will arrive. Had my chaotic feelings been just as strong when Clover was sent to reap me?

I take another step towards the man. There's a small tube under his nose. His hair is grey and thick, like the medium-length beard. He sniffles and focuses entirely on the TV. He hasn't noticed me at all, if he can even see me.

I take another step closer; I feel like a predator stalking its prey. He shines more brightly than Paweł, almost as strongly as the nurses out in the corridor.

He has noticed me now and sweeps the tired and grey eyes over my clothes.

"You're in the wrong room," he says with a raspy voice.

He sounds like Paweł, the dominant and most clear voice speaks in Swedish, and the one underneath speaks English. I cannot understand it, it's muffled and the words sounds incomprehensible, just like the nurses in the corridor.

"I don't think so," I say and walk further into the room.

He follows me with his gaze, irritation lays in his eyes. I can hardly blame him. I'd feel just as annoyed if some unknown person walked into my hospital room.

I don't know what else to say, what to do. What am I even doing here? It's after all another month at least until I'm supposed to reap his soul. It'd be easier to come here after he has died.

"I don't have time to babysit," he says and points at the tube under his nose, "as you can see."

I stand at the end of his bed trying to figure out what to even say to this man. I don't need to think long until a nurse comes into the room. The blue shine that comes from her is blinding.

She says something I cannot understand.

"It doesn't matter," he tells her, "but do you let anyone into my room?"

The woman looks around and looks right through me. Joseph follows her gaze. She says something more and Joseph keeps staring at me, he looks much calmer than I thought he be.

He turns to the nurse. "There was a girl here before."

She speaks.

"Yes, she left a few minutes ago," he lies, and the woman says something more. Joseph continues, "No, that's fine."

She leaves the room and Joseph waits for what feels like minutes before he asks, "who are you?"

"I cannot say my name anymore," I say and try to sound calm and collected.

Mysterious it is. That's the game I'll play. Even though what I said is the truth. I cannot say my name anymore and I definitely don't want to tell him my name is Orchid.

"Are you dead?"

"In a way," I answer.

"Ghost?"

I laugh. "No, I'm no ghost."

He coughs and takes a deep breath. I feel the pain in my chest and lungs.

"What are you then?" he asks, each word sounds strained.

I'm not sure what I should say, if I should be truthful or lie.

"I can't tell you yet." I sit down at the green chair next to the wall. "But I'm here to get to know you."

He looks confused for a second, and then he starts laughing, it leads to another coughing fit. His rough hand grabs his shirt. I sit still in my chair and refuse to show that I'm suffering with him. It sounds like he's about to tear up his throat and chest.

"My last months with a ghost as a friend, I could have it worse," he says breathlessly, yet he's able to conjure a smile.

"But I'm no ghost," I remind him.

"As long as you won't tell me what you are, you'll be a ghost in my eyes. No one else can see you, right?"

I don't answer; his eyes narrows.

"Or the dying can see you."

He knows exactly what I am now. He'd call me a reaper, but he's close enough to the truth. He knows that I'm there to collect his soul. There's no fear in him, just a curiosity.

"To be honest, I've never believed in your type before."

He points a finger at me while he stares me down, like he's trying to figure me out.

"My type?" I ask and cross my legs, my arms I put over the chair's armrest.

"Reapers." He takes a deep breath. "Ghosts I've always believed in. But you... No, that was too strange."

"But you believe me now?" I ask like I was the only existing reaper.

He coughs a couple of times. "Yes, you are after all sitting right in front of me."

I remember when Emma said that she had seen something in the hospital room when my dad died, I had said that it wasn't weird to do that when he was dying. If someone saw this man speak with nothing, would they also believe he was hallucinating?

"I never believed in ghosts when I was alive," I admit even though I shouldn't.

I feel strangely comfortable talking to the old man, it makes me want to tell him the thoughts I've hidden. It feels like he wouldn't judge me.

"So you've been alive?"

I answer with a nod, he opens his mouth to say something but a woman in casual clothes steps into the room. She shines brightly.

Joseph's tired, grey eyes lights up. She looks like a younger version of him, and it wouldn't surprise me if she is his daughter.

"Emma, I thought you said you couldn't make it today."

It stings when I hear that name. I can barely pronounce it anymore. I get up from the chair and stand in front of his bed again.

The woman even has blonde, curly hair like Emma, but their faces are night and day. It's impossible to understand what she's saying. I decide to unfold the stone right in front of Joseph, he stops talking and stares with widened eyes.

Emma says something, I catch a tone of worrying.

"I cannot say my name, but I remember my sister's. She has the same name as your daughter. If you'd like to call me anything, I prefer that name."

His mouth is slightly open, Emma lays one of her shining hands on top of his shoulder.

"Okay," he says as he watches me; he turns to Emma. "I'm okay."

I turn back and open the door after knocking.