Aarin wasn't good with children.
He wasn't good with people in general, and he preferred working alone. He received his mission, achieved his goal, no matter the method, and successfully returned to forced smiles and disappointed groans. Clearly, karma hadn't had enough with him.
Aarin appeared outside the grand gates of the headquarters. The Order of Spiritual Heralds was a bustling palace, situated to the east of the heavens. It was always busy with white-clad reapers rushing about, thousands of missions, exorcisms, injuries, oh, and the paperwork. Today was no different: the crowd parted for Aarin and people hastily stepped out of his way.
He hadn't expected another mission so soon, having just returned from an exorcism. He was still awfully woozy and irritable, but whatever.
Duty was duty.
He made his way to the reporting hall as whispers and pointed looks attempted to cling to him.
"What's dead-eyes doing here?"
"I hope he's finally getting demoted."
"Not even a greeting!"
Their voices were cut off as the doors swung shut.
The octagonal hall Aarin had entered was massive, and every small sound echoed endlessly. Each wall had windows that went up to the ceiling, bathing the space in golden light. An iron shrine stood in the very center, with a statue of Niryati, a scroll in one hand and a bell in the other.
The hall was usually desolate because most reapers left immediately after receiving their orders. This time, though, Aarin was met with two others.
He could sense that they were young, their spirits no older than a couple of centuries. One of them paced behind the shrine, her steps in a straight line, an old spear strapped to her back and talismans already prepared and tied to her waist. The other relaxed against a window, his uniform poorly put together, not even a weapon in hand as he lazily stared outside.
Aarin ignored them and stepped in front of the shrine, closing his eyes.
"Aarin, Order of Spiritual Heralds, reporting for duty." His voice, a low, smooth sound, carried across the hall. The statue's eyes glowed momentarily before a sweet chime emerged, the bell in its hand ringing merrily.
"It's nice to see you back so soon. Good job, by the way, it was a clean send off," the bookkeeper's voice greeted him politely. If he strained his mind, he could hear the flipping of papers on the other end of the connection.
"It was no big deal," he answered.
"Have you managed to recover well?" she continued.
"Would've been better if I'd had more time," Aarin grumbled, his voice betraying his irritation. "What is it that you need of me?"
"Two of our most outstanding trainees require on-field experience. I'd like you to mentor them," the bookkeeper said serenely. Aarin struggled to wrestle the grimace that threatened to break out on his face.
"There must be a mistake. I'm not a sanctioned instructor," he countered, the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind making their spiritual connection waver. The bookkeeper's voice came in warbled now.
"Oh, you'll do fine," she said, stern now. "You might even enjoy it."
Aarin groaned. "This is just a ploy to get me off the field, isn't it?"
The bookkeeper chuckled.
"Well, if you end up having a good time, all you'll have to do is fill out the form, which I'm sure Niryati will approve, and you'll be an official instructor in no time. In any case, you're probably going to see them soon. Kian and Lina, quite the pair, those two." She didn't give him a chance to intervene. Aarin knew she meant well, as becoming an official teacher would take his problems with the medicine off his back, but he didn't appreciate being blindsided this way.
"You sound awfully chipper about all this," he accused.
"Now that I think about it, they remind me of you when you first started out," she mused, "and that'll be all. Go enjoy yourself, and don't die. Farewell."
Their spiritual connection snapped shut, and the bell in the statue's hand stopped ringing. Aarin ran his palm over his face.
"Why me?" he muttered. Despite his experience and success rate, he was one of the worst mentors one could have. When he opened his eyes, disgruntled, he realized the other two in the hall were staring at him intently.
Oh gods…
"Lina, Kian, I presume," Aarin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. So these two were the younglings he'd have to babysit?
"Really? Out of everyone, we get stuck with dead-eyes?" Kian drawled in an annoyed whine as he pushed himself off the window, stretching like a cat. Lina, on the other hand, marched over to Aarin with the air of a soldier and bowed courteously.
"It is an honor to be your disciple, Master Aarin. I will work tirelessly to not disappoint you." Her voice was loud and clear and uncomfortably earnest. Aarin awkwardly patted her on the back. What else are you supposed to do? He ignored her ears turning a violent shade of red.
"I'd assume both of you know the basics?" He crossed his arms, an eyebrow raised. Lina immediately straightened up and nodded. Kian strolled over, leaning against Lina.
"Souls and spirits, if cursed, bad. If 'pass on', good!" Kian counted the points off on his fingers, his tone mockingly cheery. "Trapped souls need exorcism, exorcisms hurt, take your medicine or you'll go insane, bleeeeh. Immortals need an immortality pass; no pass means a bad spirit, and that means we get to fight!"
Aarin frowned. Really? This kid reminded the bookkeeper of him? He didn't know whether to feel amused or disrespected.
"And where's your immortality pass?" Lina asked coolly. Kian patted his sides, eyes widening in alarm before realizing the other was holding his card between her fingers.
Aarin turned on his heel and sighed.
This is a fucking circus.
"Alright, that's enough. Lina, return his pass to him. We're going to the mortal realm."
Aarin's words were met with immediate objections.
"But whyyyyy it's so good hereeeeeeeee-"
"I was hoping your position would allow us to access restricted areas of the archives-"
"We have endless wine fountains here! Endless wine!"
All Aarin had to do was look over his shoulder for them to quiet down.
"Have the both of you taken a look at the ghostly activity board?" he asked as they exited the hall.
"I have, it seems as though incidents reported are increasing rapidly," Lina answered.
"Yes, the sudden surge of spiritual activity is quite alarming, though that isn't a matter either of you need to concern yourself with." Aarin mentally put asking Niryati what was going on in his to-do list.
"Of course, we don't get to do the interesting stuff." Kian groaned. Aarin promptly ignored him, tuning him out like one would a particularly whiny pet. He halted once they reached the board, the pinned papers stacked on top of one another and some even falling, trampled under feet to be forgotten forever. He ran his eyes over the writings briefly.
Chasm of Yethra…
The Missing Daughters…
The Hut of Velin… Aarin snatched the paper from the board and let it disintegrate in his palm.
The Reviving Hill…
The Festival of Ecstasy.
"Oh, what's that?" Kian asked, poking his finger at the last note, having noticed where Aarin was looking.
"An annual gathering of spirits, curses, and ghost lords. Too dangerous," Aarin said.
"That's. So. Cool!" Kian practically jumped with excitement.
"It would be good for experience…" Lina joined in.
"It'll be perfect!" Kian roared, getting a few annoyed looks.
"I suggest we take on this… 'festival' as well," Lina said at a much more socially acceptable volume.
Aarin mentally prayed for Niryati to give him patience before nodding. Whatever, if they wanted to experience it so bad, so be it.
"Gather yourselves and get your weapons, we will leave at dawn."