Chapter 2
Chapter two
“Do you remember your name, soulless?” I asked, slicing my shovel’s tip into the mound of dirt.
“Aiden, Sire.”
“Ah, Aiden, what a name—it seems to be a warrior’s name, is it not?
” I was aware of nothing of the sort, but he acted like the warrior-kind, similar to the man, Keil, who my brother kept at his side like a sad guardian knight, who never would be; he was a warrior from Tolston.
But finding someone—anyone–from the kingdom of Tolston was incredibly rare.
Tolston was the first kingdom to fall because they utterly destroyed themselves.
Restoring that kingdom would be an impossibility.
“I am of the warrior people, yes, sire, of Tolston.”
“How many more soulless have we lost?” I asked as I leaned upon my shovel.
“Nine have died this day.”
I nodded. “How many more crystals have we obtained from the mine?” I waited, aware of each second it took him before he answered, jerking my head to the side, wondering if that was also something he was interested in knowing.
I had turned him soulless before the journey to the cave, because he was scheduled to attend the same school as Emma.
I noted that he seemed very much alert. I couldn't recall exactly how old of a soulless he was, though, which was not entirely rare—for I had created many.
Keeping track of the soulless, once changed, wasn't important.
What was important was that they would never give their souls to the corruptor.
After their souls had been removed, they could stay with me, or they could leave.
Many chose to stay because it was all a bit confusing at first, navigating a soulless life.
They always remembered at least something from their lives—some memories were stronger than others and lingered longer, until they began the bleeding process.
It was hard to know which soulless would remember what, or if a soulless would remember anything at all of significance.
The process was unique for each one, but once the bleeding started, the end was inevitably near.
“I do not know.”
Seven seconds. I nodded, so he only investigated the people. He still cared about life and human things. I wondered how long it would take before he, too, had no cares at all, like the rest of them. Some started out that way. Some were reasonably upset at their loss of melody.
“How has school been for you?” I asked, while moving hair from off my forehead with my arm, trying to avoid the dirt on my hands if at all possible.
I watched as Aiden dug one last hole, and then stopped to look at me.
I counted how long it took him to toss the pile of dirt behind him after he shovelled.
Three seconds. So far, he wasn't losing energy—not slowing down.
“Fine, it’s tedious,” he answered, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, adding a smudge of dirt to his face.
“This is tedious,” I grunted, pointing to the fresh graves we dug for the last few soulless who died.
“That’s true, Sire. Although this is a work that is done with hands and not with the mind, which makes it much easier for me.” It was spoken like a true warrior. Warriors were trained from a young age to understand how to use their muscle strength to the best of their abilities to defeat the enemy.
“Your soulless state getting you bad grades, Aiden?”
He looked at me, the blackness of his eyes obvious, yet something was different about him. I just couldn't pinpoint it, but I would.
“Yes,” he said before digging again. The sun was about to set, and we needed to get those bodies buried that night. I didn't have time for it in the morning.
“Ah, well, maybe you could ask Ashlyn to tutor you?” I suggested. Ashlyn was a friend of Emma’s. If Aiden got close to Ashlyn, it could help me get closer to Emma.
“Tutor?” he asked as if the word was foreign to him.
Aiden was not like the other soulless, not volatile and not easily enraged.
He was level-headed, and still, weeks after being created, he was mostly normal.
Whenever he seemed not to know a word, however, I wondered how much longer I had left with the boy.
He was the easiest one to control, and he was always the first to get started as well as to finish a task.
That kind of help was priceless. Time was always counted.
Those we grew to care about always left in the end.
I was not unaware of that fact. In fact, I understood it more than most, I was certain.
But it was still not easy. I had hoped that Earth would be different.
“A tutor is someone who helps you learn,” I said, tossing out the last shovelful of dirt from the last of the graves.
I motioned for Aiden to walk with me to the tightly wrapped and tied up bodies.
At first, I had commissioned boxes for the soulless dead, as a courtesy for them to be laid to rest; however, after I had ordered about fifty boxes, I realized that suspicion was growing, and I could no longer use the lie that I worked for a funeral home.
Too many people were dying, too close together.
I bought the boxes in groups of ten, but on my fifth order, the look I received from the gentleman salesman caused me to understand that I could no longer keep that practice up.
Blankets worked just as well. I dug the graves deep enough that no animal could get to them, and I wrapped and bound them with their hands crossed over their hearts to send them to the Creator with well-wishes that their souls might reunite with their bodies, someday.
Aiden helped me, and one by one, we picked up the bodies and swung them into their graves.
I didn't know any of their names. There was no need to know their names.
I wasn't exactly sure why I had remembered Aiden’s.
Perhaps, it was also part of my melody. I could feel myself become more soft as each day passed.
We were outside until three in the morning as we finished piling on the last of the dirt over the last grave.
“You are a hard worker, warrior Aiden,” I said as we walked back to the house. There were twenty soulless residents there, many laying on the large expansive basement floor in sleeping bags, waiting out their time until death took them. They came and they went, although most tended to stay.
“Thank you, Sire,” he said with his head down.
As we walked in silence between the still living bodies, I could hear Shadrict’s—no, my melody reaching out, searching for her, for Emma.
I closed the door to my office and sat in my chair, leaving Aiden to rest. I looked at my hands as they shook, emotions coursing through me.
I was used to dirt, used to soot and ash, even used to other sickening and filthy things, but that did not mean I hated any unclean things any less.
I was used to death, too. In the dungeons where I had spent most of my life, I saw my fair share of prisoners being carried in alive and then carried out dead.
I heard their pleas to the Ancients, night after night, and while it was an annoyance, death had never affected me so much before having reclaimed my soul.
I walked to the connected bathroom and washed my hands and face, still hearing the melody in the background.
I watched as the white sink filled with black, dirty water, counted the number of times that I moved my hands under the flow of water, the number of times I washed and rinsed until the water went from muddy brown to clear.
Six. I looked up at my face in the mirror, streaked with sweat and dirt.
My nose, twisted at an odd angle, never caused me much concern, but it was the thing that made me stand out from my brother the most. I had never been able to see my reflection while imprisoned, other than in the puddle on the floor that formed in the cooler months within my cell.
But even then, I didn't care about my appearance, but people cared on Earth—appearance mattered.
Appearance was powerful. Earth was a young world, and the Earth humans still had much to learn about their vain ideals.
It was one of the corruptors' more basic tools.
I stripped off my clothes and turned on the shower, wanting that shower to release me from the filth that had overtaken me.
The dirt and grime from the graves seemed embedded in my skin; it felt as if a mark had been left there, and it needed to be washed away.
I had taken many showers since arriving in this realm called Earth, and I reveled in the ability to clean myself whenever I wished.
Something so basic to so many, yet for me, that had never been a part of my life before.
As I stood under the spray again, the melody called to me.
Why did my father give Shadrict my soul?
Did the Ancients favor him and despise me so much in return?
I turned off the water and toweled my body.
As I dressed and walked to the main room, a few soulless sat on the couches facing the large windows that showcased the beautiful forest behind it.
My new life was a life filled with color along with room to move around in, and there were so many wonderful things to see.
I stood in awe at the luxury before me: the new life I had always wanted.
It was a life away from darkness, and yet, as I watched a soulless walk past me, the darkness in his eyes and the soiled clothing that he wore, I thought, here I stand among the darkest things I had ever known, and yet, am I not their creator?