Rain battered the painted roof of the sandslider as it blazed through the dunes.
The moonlight partially revealed two figures seated in the rear of the open-back vehicle.
The girl curled up in the corner yawned, pulling back her hood to reveal a head of short, silky ashen gray hair ending in twin braids that didn't match her youthful facial features at all. She shook her head rigorously, braids dancing behind her as she adjusted the thin purple headband keeping her bangs in check. Prae wasn't about to deal with another thing constantly assaulting her eyes. The constant sandstorms were bad enough as is.
Why did they have to send this out on such short notice? She went over the letter of summons in her hand for the fifth time, but another yawn soon crawled its way up.
A low voice rang out from the front of the vehicle, accompanied with a long, reptilian snout decorated with metal hoops poking through the sliding window of the passenger seating.
"So, even the 'Angel of Death' can feel tired," said the Arsuteli, hoops jingling back and forth as he talked. "How many are you killing today? One? Ten? Or maybe even–"
"It's not 'killing', it's passing on their soul to those in need."
The short, stocky lizard snorted and turned his attention to the dashboard, pulling a couple levers.
"Sure kid, whatever helps you sleep at night. There's only one truth in the world for me, and that's…"
He paused and lightly shook the jar anchored conveniently next to the window with one arm, the coins inside the glass belly sliding around in an assortment of shrill clinks and clangs.
Scribbled in large letters on the label was the word: "TIPS".
Prae sighed, and reached through the rattling window, dropping a few coins in the jar next to the lizard. The Arsuteli grinned, rows of jagged teeth glinting in the moonlight.
"Now you're speakin' my language."
A wave of wet sand showered the few exposed seats next to Prae as the engine of the sandslider roared, sharply rounding the corner.
Moist clumps of sand stuck to her face, but Prae couldn't help but worry. Would we even make it in time? She glanced at the man in the seat across from her.
One arm resting in his lap and the other on the hilt of his knife, he showed no signs of being disturbed by the rough ride. Their eyes met as he sighed.
"We're almost there, Prae. If you have time to worry about me, you should be making sure your clothes are in perfect condition for the ceremony," he said, shifting only his gaze towards the hem of the girl's long flowing robes in disapproval.
"…Yes, father."
Prae patted down her robes, lightly brushing off the sand and meticulously checked her dark green sleeves with gold trimmings along the edges in intricate, triangular patterns. They were a symbol of her status as a priestess, messengers of Mother Nature, the Goddess they all worshipped in the Outskirts. Truth be told, she always felt a bit of unease wearing them, as they always seemed too big. They were her late mother's, after all.
A swift exchange of currency and pleasantries later, Prae and her father set foot on the soil of Kor'ugaes, a modest mining village to the north of her hometown.
A guard at the torchlit gates approached with a spear in hand, eyeing the pair from top to bottom. "Well, if it isn't the 'Angel of Death'," she said with a smirk.
Her father reached into his breast pocket, producing two bronze insignias dangling by green cords, glinting in the torchlight. "We caught word of a mother here who will be giving birth soon."
Circling around the two like a predator stalking their prey, the guard once again scanned them from head to toe. "Well, you're both in the clear. No Decay that I can see."
The wooden double doors that towered over the bunch slowly creaked open with a brief wave of the guard's hand, revealing a mostly barren main street, the light leaking out from house windows left ajar dancing on the ground in speckles of yellow.
Mostly barren, save for two shadowy figures seemingly engaged in a heated argument.
An adult was grabbing a child by the collar, shouting.
The man slammed his victim on the ground and dug his knee under the boy's ribs, gloating.
Wincing in pain, the boy coughed, flailing his tiny arms at the man's face to no avail.
"Heard you got that good-for-nothing housekeeper's soul. A shame she hung herself." He leaned in closer to the boy's right ear, reducing his voice to almost a whisper. "Now, get me the money she owes me."
The boy gasped for air, a fire lit in his eyes.
"G-Get off me!! What do I have to do with this?" The boy cried out in a surge of strength, planting a leg on his attacker's chest, shoving him off to the side. "She's my Soul Family, but that doesn't mean I'm her or anything!"
Still on the ground, the boy clutched his chest, coughing as the air filled his lungs once more.
Cursing, the man rolled over and grabbed a large rock, quietly approaching the boy, still lost in his own world.
Prae thrust herself between the two, aiming her hand at the armed man. Orange sparks flew from her palm as she opened her eyes wide and stared deeply into his. A wave of calmness washed over her, arms dropping to the sides as she felt herself free from worry, muscles relaxing. The rock dropped to the ground as the man mirrored her motions. Every…time…I feel so lightheaded…can't get used to…it…
The words practically flowed out of her mouth by themselves. "Let us set aside our differences in opinion and just walk away."
"Sounds…good." Eyes glazed over, the man turned around and disappeared into the distance.
"Hey!"
A pebble landed squarely on her forehead. The boy, arm still extended in front of him, leaned against a closed door, blood dripping from his cheeks, breathing heavily. "I don't remember asking the 'Angel of Death' for help."
Prae opened her mouth, but no words came out. The world spun in circles. It took everything to muster a smile.
"You creepy freak! You took my grandpa from me! I bet you don't even remember that!"
Seeing no response from Prae, he clicked his tongue and closed the door behind him.
The girl fell to the ground, clutching her head. It wasn't her favorite Mirusol to use, but Mother Nature had given mankind this spell for a reason.
"Prae, why did you use Sedaqui? We haven't even finished our duty here! Hey!"
She could only nod weakly.
Crack!
"Prae! Snap out of it!"
Her cheek stung with a hot, aching pain still pulsing from where her father's palm collided with her face. The world gradually came back into focus. She inhaled deeply, nursing her left cheek.
"Are we…done here?" The guard grabbed Prae's hand, pulling her to her feet. "Well, come on then, I haven't got all day."
Gusts of wind swept across the empty town square, cutting into Prae's body as she trailed behind the guard. But rather than the wind, piercing gazes from all directions, like thousands of hot needles, dug deep into her skin. Whispers amongst the dwellings flooded the street, worming their way into her brain.
"It's the 'Angel of Death'…"
"Who does she think she is…"
"Don't look at her, she'll curse you…"
Prae kept walking at the same pace, keeping her head down. Her father firmly placed a hand on her shoulder. "Pay them no heed. The ignorant fools don't know what's best for their town."
The guard soon stopped in front of a certain door. "Here we are. Hopefully there isn't too much trouble with this case."
Prae couldn't help her curiosity. "What do you mean, trouble? I hear he bonded with the host family pretty well."
"You'll see. Llarmes Pausitah." The guard formed the gesture of Mother Nature's blessing with both hands.
"Thank you. Llarmes Pausitah."
It still didn't seem right. But the ceremony would be held as usual, and she would get some rest on the way back home. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her hood back up and reached for the bell mounted next to the door–
A muffled, feeble low voice came from inside. "It's unlocked. Come in."
The door swung inwards on its creaky hinges as Prae pushed it open. A distinct lack of furnishings in the cramped interior immediately greeted her eyes. Only the sight of the woman on the bed clutching her large belly confirmed that they were indeed at the right place. To her left was a younger lady, possibly the midwife. To her right was a senile old man in a wooden chair, blemishes and wrinkles all over his body…or rather, what was left of it. Where an arm used to be, worn bandages were tightly wrapped around a stump just lower than his right bicep.
The left was missing a few digits, with only the middle, pinky and thumb still unbandaged. Bits of soil were sprinkled on the bandages and around the bed and coffee table nearby. The telltale mark of a Decaying, people near the end of their lifespan.
The woman gritted her teeth in pain, sweat trickling down her neck as she trembled. "So, has the 'Angel of Death' finally come to end my Soul Family?"
Her father stepped towards the bed, lowered himself to the woman's eye level and put his hand over his heart.
"Gladrim Eagalerie. And this is Prae, the one who will be taking care of you today," he said, casting a glance in her direction. "Rest assured, for you are in the good hands of the priestess.
She will guide his soul safely to your child, by the will of the Goddess herself–"
"If I am truly in such good hands, is it too much to ask for the Goddess to spare him?"
Prae could not believe her ears. "I am afraid we cannot delay the ceremony. The very fact that he is a Decaying means he has been chosen by the Goddess to pass on his soul in the form of a blessing to the next generation. It is a great honor to be chosen by her."
"Grantus"–The woman firmly grasped the remains of the old man's hands–"is the family I never had."
That didn't seem right. Prae recalled the details from the letter of summons: this woman is married!
The lady on the bed took rapid, shallow breaths as the corners of her lips curled upwards slightly, as if she could read the thoughts going through Prae's mind. "My husband–he is a wonderful man. Giving his all every day at work just to put food on the table. But that also means he's rarely home."
She glanced down at her belly, frowning. "In fact, he's not even here for the birth of our child. But Grantus, while just our Soul Family at first, waiting to be 'reborn' as our child, became something more–something irreplaceable to not just me, but our family as a whole."
"With all due respect, Ma'am." Prae gently rested her palm on the woman's shaking shoulders. "I understand he has been more than just your Soul Family to you and your family, but without his soul your child might not receive the one they need! You know the country is experiencing a soul shortage, right?"
"But they will still be my baby–"
"Soulless. They will become a Soulless, a monstrous being with insatiable hunger that yearns for the souls of people. Surely you've heard of the recent village attacks to the south?"
The woman hesitated for a moment, then shook her head.
"Because when your baby becomes a Soulless, they will no longer be your baby anymore," Prae continued, producing a tiny glass vial of swirling purple liquid and offering it to the old man. "So please, let me give Grantus the peace he deserves–"
The old man scoffed at Prae, his cheeks reddened in anger. "Soulless? Soul shortage? That's not going to happen to us. First off, this whole 'shortage of souls' situation is just the drivel the government feeds us so they can stop us from having children!"
"...sir, this is a very real problem—"
"Don't listen to their warnings. When I was assigned by the village as Soul Family here, I used to think I was just livestock being raised just for slaughter, but not anymore. Even as I am rotting away as we speak, I still"–He locked eyes with her and placed his stump of an arm on her belly–"want to provide for our family until the very end."
Her father sighed, leaning against one of the wooden supports of the abode. "Look. Grantus is going to die anyway, whether it be from the Fel'venae or the Decay. You either grant him a painless death now and see your child grow up, or roll the dice and hope you don't give birth to a monster: one that will likely massacre this entire village along with you and your family."
The words lingered in the air as the room fell silent.
Finally, the woman spoke. "Even so. I trust that fate will have a great future for our family, even if this just lasts a little longer…"
"You fools!" Her father narrowed his eyes. "Because of the selfish decisions of people like you two, my wife passed away. It was a tragedy that neither of us"–He glanced at Prae's robes, then at her face–"want to experience again. Now, take the Fel'venae."
On cue, Prae extended her arm further, pressing the vial into Grantus' palm.
"N-no!"
Glass slivers exploded in all directions as the vial violently burst open with a swipe of the old man's remaining fingers. The coffee table was instantly dyed in a blotch of purple, drops of the liquid still rolling down the legs of the furniture. Prae's eyes grew wide. Does he have any idea how hard it was to brew that!?
Her father lunged over the bed, but grabbed only a fistful of white hairs.
Grantus yelped and scuttled away through the open door, littering the floorboards with a trail of dirt.
"Her-Her water just broke!" The midwife bit her nails, sweeping her eyes across the room in erratic movements.
Prae and her father looked at each other for a brief moment and dashed through the doorway.
On all fours, the old man scrambled through the narrow alleyway more beast than man, at speeds unthinkable for his age.
But her father was faster.
The instant Grantus slowed down to turn the corner, Gladrim pounced again. Only this time his hands found their target. Slammed into the ground, the old man grunted as the two skidded to a halt across the sandy main road on his own arm stump, a flurry of dirt and blood flying upwards. Grantus didn't waste a second, drawing his own attacker's knife with his good arm and swung wildly behind him.
Crunch!
It was a horrific sight. The old man screamed in pain as he stared at his own mangled arm in disbelief, with the white of the bone protruding from its socket. The knife spiraled through the air, nicking the side of Prae's ankles as it stuck into the sand by her feet.
"Now you don't even have an arm left." He motioned at his fallen knife. "Prae! Do it!"
Her father's trained arms came from behind and curled around Grantus' shoulders in an instant, pulling him close and flipping the old man's body upwards. He clamped down harder the more Grantus struggled, a predator denying its prey any hope of escape.
"Don't you two feel any shame, doing it like this," Grantus whimpered, squirming frantically.
"And who was it that wasted the Fel'venae?" Her father spat in the sand, turning to Prae.
"Hurry, we don't have much longer!"
Prae grabbed the knife, but the helpless old man in front of her made her freeze in her tracks. Her pulse quickened as she gripped the knife harder and harder until her knuckles turned white. But her legs refused to move, ignoring her every command. Was this really the only way?
"I…I can't." Prae fell to her knees, finally dropping the knife.
Her father clicked his tongue, still grappling Grantus. "Prae! Do you want a repeat of what happened to Mom? If you're just going to do this, then maybe you should've just died instead!"
The words stung, digging deep into her consciousness, unearthing memories previously thought to be sealed away for good. The screaming. The smell of ash and burnt flesh. Tears began to stream down her cheeks as her trembling fingers wrapped around the knife once again.
Prae inhaled deeply.
And plunged the curved blade deep inside Grantus' chest.