I open my eyes and suck in the cold air. The cold feels even more tangible, it makes me shiver uncontrollably.

"Did you find it?" He asks, resting his arms against the fence.

I answer by closing my eyes for a few seconds, and when I open them again Laura's belonging is floating above the water.

"A doll?" Nine asks.

I pick up the doll and it hangs lifelessly over my hand. "Yeah, it was her childhood's home."

I can still feel the world in my head, like I haven't quite closed the gate to it yet. A feeling of forgetfulness remains, like my mind is starting to peel away like the memory of the house.

"Is it normal to feel like uhm... my mind is fading away?"

"So I've heard. It will disappear after a while. I've never had to create a world before; I've only kept the memories of those I've reaped."

That reminds me of what Sun said, that soul wanderers used to experience the soul's memories by the help of soul dust. It had become rarer as time passed. When we came here there had been a line for the creatures, while our entry hadn't had a single soul wanderer, maybe it was because it was so close to closing down for the night. Nine is likely one of the few who still visits the hall to experience the memories of those he has reaped.

I look at his arms, I cannot see his scars when he has them positioned that way.

"Your area, it was suicide?"

It sounds more like a question than I had intended.

"Yes."

"Is it not painful to see those memories? Sun told me you cannot choose what memories you'll see."

"I've gotten used to it. Besides, the chance to see something else is bigger. Not every memory is a painful one. Not even for us."

I have a feeling us isn't about soul wanderers. I look back at the doll in my hand. The cold still hangs around my body like a tangible mist.

"Is it true what they say about you?"

I tighten the grip around the doll.

"What do they say about me?"

He doesn't sound very interested.

I hesitate. "That you don't use the Stormcoin."

All I can hear is the water from the wet doll dripping into the pool.

"It's true."

"Why?"

"Because there is no point. It's different from accidents or sickness, where they have no control over it."

I swallow. I don't like where this is going.

"In my experience the Stormcoin doesn't make any difference. I or another soul wanderer will still reap their soul eventually. All I'm doing is prolonging the inevitable."

He speaks more harshly than he usually does.

"You don't know that."

I think of Emma. Before the car accident I knew there was a chance that she would walk that road, I'm scared that Nine or someone else with the same thought process would come to reap her soul, not giving her a chance of survival.

Nine leaves his place at the fence. "I speak of experience, Orchid. I have tried."

He walks past one of the openings and steps inside the pool. The jeans darken as his legs sink into the water.

"We're not here to talk about this, nor do we have time. Do you know what to do next?"

He takes a few steps until he's standing in the middle of the pool. I open my hand; I've held the cloth doll too tightly and it has ended up wrinkly.

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"Not really," I say.

"Drop the doll into the water."

I do as he says and stare at it as it floats above the surface.

"Close your eyes and think of the portrait you had seen in the book; the rest should happen by itself as long as you have the intent clear."

Not that different from anything else here. But I keep those thoughts to myself.

I close my eyes and think of the woman. The red hair, the freckles, the eager green eyes. The coldness breaches my skin and continues far into my soul. I take a deep, desperate breath before falling backwards.

It blackens. A void lay in my chest, everything fully covered in darkness. Until I feel it – someone else's presence inside of me. Hidden and forgotten. Dead.

It's unfair. She cannot stop crying. She's sitting on the staircase second step; her hands are pushed against the wet cheeks. She can barely breathe between the sobs.

"It's unfair!" she screams and moves her hands away from her face.

Mother is sitting in front of her, even her cheeks are wet. The green eyes that usually warm and joyful are filled with sorrow. It hurts even more to look at her.

Mother dries her tears with her thumbs.

"My little darling. I want you to know that it's okay to cry. Zeus is in a better place now. He had to leave us, but it's important to remember the good times he gave us."

Mother pulls her into her embrace, and strokes her hair gently, the other hand she keeps on her daughter's back.

They're here with us in such a short time, but they give us so much. You'll always carry him here," she says and pulls away from the hug; she gently pats her chest, "in your heart."

It feels like I'm floating on top of the water, following a gentle stream, or like the wind is carrying my wings over the darken sky. I'm looking for something and when I finally find it, I can feel the presence again.

She's sitting on the sofa on her father's office, watching him while he's carefully sewing across the cloth. He is making the dress for the doll she has already planned the background of – Princess Monique, the crown princess of France.

She jumps up from the sofa and walks over to her father with perky, quick steps. She carries a large smile, one that she always has whenever her father lets her stay in his office as he works on his newest sewing projects.

Father picks up the doll in his hands and moves her around to make sure everything looks like he wants it to.

"Her name will be Monique," she says when she looks at the cloth doll with the red hair – red like hers. "She's the crown princess of France."

"A princess, huh? Then she will need a tiara," father says and reaches for the yarn.

She gives him a hug and continues to jump of glee at the thought of her new doll. Father coughs a few times, and gently pats her head when he lays down the yarn on the desk, next to the almost finished cloth doll.

It's a bittersweet memory, one that leaves an anxious feeling in my stomach before I continue on my hunt for the last memory.

She sneaks into Allie's room with the doll Monique in her hand. Allie sits on the bed with the blanket pulled up to her chin, with a book in front of her.

"What is that, mom?" Allie asks as she stares at the doll in her hands.

She walks to the bed and sits down. Monique has seen better days, yet she had almost been able to make her look as new as when father had first made her, all those years ago.

"Monique," she says and puts the cloth doll on her knee. "Grandpa made her for me when I was a child."

"Grandpa made it?" Allie asks and the eyes widens when she reaches out her small hands towards the doll, she carefully lifts it.

"She's cute. Is she a princess?" Allie asks and touches the yarn-tiara gently.

"She is," she says and smiles. "I named her Monique. She was supposed to be a princess of France."

"Can I have her?"

She nods and leans forward to plant a kiss on her daughter's forehead.

I open my eyes and realize I'm under water. The panic takes over and I flail around. A steady hand touches my back and pushes me up, I cough up water the moment my head is above the surface.

"You're alright. You're not drowning."

I cough a few more times, until I realize Nine is kneeing besides me in the pool. The striped shirt has become wet, as well as parts of the blonde hair.

"You could have warned me I'd literally be under water."

"I'm sorry, I didn't think it would make a difference. It cannot hurt you." He removes his hand from my back. "It's uncomfortable the first few times, but you get used to it."

I pull back my wet hair. I can feel her inside of me, like I'm sharing my mind with someone else. If I focus I can hear a whisper, I cannot make out the words, but I know it's Laura. Is she aware of what I have done and is it me she's speaking to? I try to listen and distinguish the whispers. They're so low and hard to understand that I cannot even make out what language it is.

"Orchid?"

The sudden clear voice startles me.

"Huh?"

"They're going to close soon; do you have everything you need?"

"I think so. I keep hearing whispers. Is there something else I need to do to complete it?"

Nine stands up in the pool. "No. She'll be a part of you for a few weeks."

The doll is floating above the water, I pick her up – Monique – and study the rosy face.

"What should I do about the doll?"

"You can keep her or throw her away. It's a part of the Realm of the Dead now, it won't disappear unless you want it to."

I study the details in the doll. I can still see it clearly, Laura's father sitting in his office sewing this little cloth doll with all the love he had for his daughter. I remember her love too, the one she had for her parents and the one for Allie. I feel it like it's my own.

I squeeze the doll lightly and a small smile settles on my lips. A real one - nothing I have to force.

"I know a soul wanderer that keeps the belongings from the people she has shapeshifted into in her room. They won't disappear from there."

"Thank you. That sounds like a good idea."

I raise from the pool, the water drips from my clothes and the cold hangs over me like frost.