Chapter 37 - Home
July
I was told I was special. I was told my power was my strength.
And that was all a lie.
When I joined the Harvesters, I thought my talent was common, and I didn’t care because I was finally an anonymous grain in a sea of ears of wheat. I was happy to be a Reaper.
Popplewish told me only a few had the stamina to be trained into higher ranks.
Like the Donatori, who can gently guide souls into their new vessels, or the Writers, who are masters in reshaping memories so that souls will only treasure the good they did, carrying it from their past lives into their new.
When she explained the role of the Deleteri, I promised myself I would never befriend one of them.
When a soul is too tainted, hopeless, they wipe it clean.
Despicable memories, dark feelings, rotten passions—the Deleteri scrape souls to their very core, destroying even the little good they may have done in their past (and last) life, returning only dry crops.
Their empty vessels are so sterile that they will never host a new soul and can only be abandoned in The Fields.
I broke that promise when she introduced me to a boy, too tall for his age, and with the sweetest smile.
A swarm of lies and secrets rings in my ears.
…Roden’s daughter.
…I always asked you to stop before you could find the way…
Galen’s mouth moves, then stops. He stares intently at me before talking again—words with no sounds.
“Shut up,” I blurt out, overwhelmed. “I don’t want to hear any more. Please!” I beg him, pressing my palms to my temples, looking down to blink away my tears, without Galen noticing, but achieving the opposite result.
He steps closer and gently brushes my wet cheek with his knuckles. “Sof, I wanted to tell you. But they wouldn’t let me. I…”
“Don’t call me that…” I can’t hold back a sob.
I can’t even remember why I hate that name.
With one swift motion, he hugs me so tight that the world remains trapped outside our embrace. The swarm in my head melts into a soft hum that tastes like Libera’s meadows—sweet and reassuring.
“Why did you stay? Why didn’t you flee Libera and remain with Kris to protect him from…people like me?”
Sometimes we have to play parts we don’t resonate with, Popplewish’s voice echoes in my mind.
Pressed against his chest, I can barely breathe, and I cling to his shirt like my sanity depends on it.
He props his chin onto my head and chuckles softly, “Believe me, my brother doesn’t need protection. Besides,” he releases me just enough to take my face in his hands, “When I accepted to be part of all this, I wasn’t aware of how addictive you are.”
I wince and open my mouth to say something. But when I reopen it, for once, I’m left without words.
Something in Galen’s eyes makes me believe I could ask a million questions and still be miles from the truth.
“How many times have I tried ending your—hang on?” I wriggle my head free from his hands. “Kris? Is your brother?”
Galen’s eyes narrow. “Non-identical twin. But I’m the good-looking one. Did I not mention he’s family?”
I feel stupid the moment he says it.
“I thought you meant ‘family’, as in a close friend or a long-lost cousin. A…” I study him, chewing on the inside of my cheek. “Your brother? If you two share the same blood, why does his power—Oh, my head hurts.”
Galen throws his head back, laughing and throwing me into an unexpected pool of embarrassment.
“Not even Roden knows, but that’s why he decided to separate us,” he says, catching his breath and holding his side.
There isn’t any sense of pride or relief in admitting that; it’s just a simple statement.
“Our father’s only sin was not sharing the same idea of the future Roden had, but our mother didn’t care when she fell in love with him,” - he flicks my forehead when he notices my lips dropping with sadness - “Kris is just a lucky bastard, the one that got to live for years without Roden’s cold breath on his neck. ”
I study the palms of my hands, tracing the lines of one with my index finger as if recalling past events. When nothing magically appears on my skin to help me understand my messy situation, I start pacing back and forth until I find my words again.
I look at Galen as he patiently waits for my doubts to subside. “When I met the Chapter, Roden told me that this dangerous Rogue,” I wince as the word rolls off my tongue like a drop of venom, “I mean Kris—Roden told me that Kris was just a rebel that didn’t want to join his people—us.”
Galen nods. “Roden wasn’t technically lying. But that’s because of the words our mother left for him before she died. The truth about his father, me and his other people. I think Roden wants him gone for good because he’s finally realised he will never be able to tame him.”
The more I look at Galen, the more his features seem to change, blurring into a face that both belongs to him and to a stranger—a stranger who is teasing me with tantalising secrets but also holding back crucial details.
“But he can’t be the only one. There must be others like him. Why does Roden want me to go only after him? I mean, how many Herionos and Harvesters have fallen in love and had children before he forbade that kind of relationship?”
I start fanning my face when a rivulet of sweat drips down my neck. How long have we been out here? When I scan the sky, the sun is so bright that it doesn’t feel real. There is not a cloud in the sky. Not even a bird.
Galen is also starting to feel the rising temperature, and he suddenly gestures toward a canopy of trees that offers enough shade for both of us.
We walk in silence for a bit, side by side, until Galen decides to answer my question.
“Hundreds. Thousands, maybe, but Roden put an end to them before their souls had the chance to grow stronger inside their mothers. We were lucky, in a sense, because our mother gave birth to us in Libera. Yet, Roden sensed something within Kristyon, something different, and gave her a choice. He asked her to pick one of us, and doom the other to spend whatever shitty years he had left on Horigos.” He gives me a moment to think and put the pieces together.
He’s never shared much about his family, and I stopped asking years ago when I realised his voice would always drop and his eyes darken while reliving the past.
He always told me, repeating the details as if it was a story branded in his mind, that he was born in Libera the day his mother died.
She was on a mission with his father - an easy one they were promised - because she was pregnant then.
But Galen’s father never came back, and his mother was brought back to the island by the rest of their team—bleeding.
Gunshot. Something had gone dramatically wrong.
She refused to let go of the soul she’d been sent to harvest and had used what was left of her vital energy to save it. And to preserve her unborn child.
That day, a soul was offered a new chance in life while Galen’s mother was closing her eyes forever, staring for the first and last time at her newborn son, carried away in Evelyn Popplewish’s loving arms.
“The child in your story,” I hold my tears, “That was Kris. Evelyn took him away. That was your mother’s last wish…”
He doesn’t answer me straight away. When we reach the cooling shadow of the trees, Galen stops a few steps before me with his head hanging heavy between his shoulders as he mumbles, “Yes…My mother drew her last breath holding in her arms only one of her children.” The first straight answer in a while.
The trees protecting us from the heat have large trunks, but the bark looks young and tender when Galen easily scratches it off from one of them. His shoulders tense as he leans against the tree, one hand bearing his weight against the trunk.
The grass complains under my rushed steps as I shorten the distance between us.
I run a hand over my face. “What is so wrong about his talent that Roden didn’t even try to raise him in Libera? Why not give him a chance like you had—”
I startle, muffling a gasp behind my hand at the sound of Galen’s fist hitting the tree. His shoulders tremble with every shaky breath.
I approach him, intentionally making my steps heard. When he doesn’t react, I brush his back with my fingertips, hoping to distract him from my next question with a friendly touch.
I don’t want him to suffer, but I need to know. “What happened after Popplewish took him to Horigos?” I drop my hand, giving him time.
Galen bows his head against the tree, shaking slightly.
His voice is a low rasp when he says, “Evelyn told Roden that the baby had died during the crossing. She knew Roden gave my mother a choice only to maintain the image of the forgiving, loving saviour in the eyes of his people. He was already planning to send someone to find my brother and put an end to him in secret, without staining his precious Libera. The little taste Roden had of Kris’ abilities the day we were born was enough to make him a threat. ”
I fight the urge to hug him tight. “Instead, she asked Tabitha for help?” I mumble to myself, to turn the supposition into a hopeful truth.
Galen nods. His fingers have never stopped torturing the bark despite his knuckles being visibly raw and scratched.
“Galen, please, look at me.” Once again, I stretch a hand towards him, but he turns on his heels so quickly that I move a step back.
His eyes scan my face, begging me to understand. To stop. But I can’t. Not yet.
“How long have you known about this? How long have you been playing both sides?” I ask, bracing myself when a gentle breeze coming from somewhere beyond the trees brushes my bare arms.
The smile on his face is beautiful and sad, and I’d kiss him if only to wipe it off. But I remain still.