Trying to Lie

On to the matter of my soul. Getting it back, that is.

Honestly, It’s such a boring subplot I initially wanted to leave it out. The comedic portion has ended and I’ve yet to reach the climax of this prologue. I’m not looking forward to discussing what comes next, but even that is preferable to this. From a literary standpoint at least.

The problem is that through omission I’d be building things up through a sense of misdirected mystery. There’s no mystery, only deliberation. Souls are almost always dealt with and exchanged over deals and contracts, with my case being no different. Unfortunately, making deals might be one of my weak points.

Anyway.

By this point in the narrative I’d already secured Rakki’s participation and made plans for a date with Eris. The only thing left was my soul. And as fortune would have it, I knew exactly where I left it.

My death, my first death, was not a natural one, and certainly not an accidental one. For a reason that remains unknown to me, I wandered too far into the forest and came face to chest with a soul reaver. I’d like to say face to face, but the creature was easily twice my height while still on four legs.

And it’s not like I’m just particularly short. I’m at least average height. Maybe even slightly above average. At least within the upper range of what’s considered average. What is average anyway? It’s hard to tell. I just didn’t have any shoes.

The rest played out as expected. It devoured my soul, or perhaps I should say reaved it, leaving only scraps behind. Like the tiny pieces of food and smears of sauce left on a plate after dinner. That’s when Rakki happened to stroll by. He saw the empty husk that used to be my body, and decided to gather up my remnants to make an undead.

A fairly common story if I’ve ever heard one. I wouldn’t even bother telling it, but I needed to explain how I knew the location of my soul.

The reaver had it, and the reaver’s location wasn’t a secret. It didn’t have a reason to hide its presence. The concept of hiding was a strategy devised by the weak, and soul reavers were anything but. You could combine every human in the village and every creature in the forest, with the exception of maybe Rakki and myself, and it would still be weaker than the soul reaver. On an instinctual level it was probably impossible for a creature like a soul reaver to recognize the value of stealth. Even if faced by a more powerful creature it would have no choice but to charge toward death.

Therein lies the crux of my three part plan.

Step one: enter the reaver’s territory.

Step two: ask for my soul back. If it agrees, then plan over. If it doesn’t, I’d move on to the next step.

Step three: fight it and take my soul back.

The third step was where I could see potential problems arising. Could I kill it? Can they even be killed? I’d have to ask Rakki about it. Either way, I didn’t need to kill it. I just needed to not get killed by it, and that’s my new-found specialty. I don’t have a soul to reave and my body will always regenerate. If I kept it locked in a stalemate for long enough eventually it would give in and just return my soul. The only question was how long I could endure. My body might last, but how long until my mind goes?

It wasn’t perfect. It was a plan.

Step one was easy. Navigating the forest was first nature to me. Actually, I’d like to use this down time to point out a detail I’ve yet to bring up, but will become increasingly more important. My modesty is completely dependent on getting this point out.

I only have one set of clothes: a simple looking dress. I’m not trying to get sympathy or anything, it’s just a fact I’ve got to deal with. Borrowing a second set from the village was out of the question. My dress and underclothes were actually a gift from Rakki. Probably the only thoughtful thing he’s ever done. And don’t think my refusal to wear anything else stems from a sentimental place. As much as I’d like to throw them in a fire, the clothes Rakki made are useful. I’m not sure how, but they repair themselves after being ripped or torn.

That’s a necessary feature when getting your body impaled and sliced apart is quickly becoming routine, especially since I’m trying to keep decent. You might think assumed nudity in written form is no big deal. How shortsighted. That kind of thinking will get you in trouble when it’s time to work on the stage production.

Anyway. Back to the story.

Soul reavers don’t have a fixed form, but the one in my forest often took the visage of a giant cat. I’m not sure if it just liked that form, or it forgot how to change into anything else. Its eyes had a reddish glow, like mine, and its fur was something so dark that I couldn’t call it black.

Void was the only description I could give it. As I tried to focus on the color I could feel myself looking away. I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I stared any longer I’d start falling.

“Ah, so that’s where you’ve been. Hiding out in the body of an undead.”

The reaver called out to me in a voice that was neither masculine or feminine while still sounding like both. Its feline mouth didn’t move, but I could hear it.

I wasn’t prepared for its natural greeting, as if the two of us were reconnecting old friends.

“What do you mean?” I haven’t been hiding, I added, almost more so to myself. If a soul reaver is strong enough to never hide, perhaps I’m weak enough to always be hiding. Physically speaking I’m not weak, but on an instinctual level I might have recognized my weakness as a whole.

“Say what you will, but you can’t fool a soul reaver. We always see the contents, never distracted by the vessel.”

“The contents are what I’m here for. I’d like my soul back.”

“Your soul? We can’t return what we never took.”

“Stop. Don’t bother trying to lie. If you won’t give it back, just say so. Then I can move on to step three.” Like I said earlier, the comedic banter portion was over.

“There is no deceit. Yours is a soul that we could never take. We’re only interested in the souls of mortals.”

“Check your records. I’m not talking about what I’ve become. My original soul is human, and I’d like it back.”

“Human? What are you. . . Ah, we see it now. A familiar scent trapped within you. You’ve collected some of the sacrifice, and you want the rest? The soul of the human?”

Sacrifice. That would explain why the villagers were so concerned with me. I wasn’t just an undead, I was an undead they sent to die for their well-being. I wish I was more upset upon learning that, but in all honesty, the news that I was a sacrifice didn’t bother me that much.

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been saying. Give me my soul back.”

“Are you certain?”

“I’m always certain.” Dealing with such a casual tone from the one who killed me was starting to grate on my nerves. I wanted to finish things as quickly as possible.

“Then it will be returned. You were the one who struck the deal, so you are the one who can break it.”

“Wait, you’re actually going to give it back? Just like that?” Rakki was one thing, but I didn’t expect the soul reaver to agree without any conditions. Was Sanson the only one willing to take advantage of my charming naivete?

“Of course, we’ve no reason to argue this with you. Just be aware, by accepting the human’s soul you’ll free us from the contract.”

It would’ve been prudent to ask about the contract, or try figuring out what my relationship with the soul reaver was. I did neither. My only goal was returning to my original form. Anything it might have said to me could only make that goal harder to achieve. There was probably a good reason I offered up my soul in the first place, but I didn’t want to know. I wouldn’t let anything hold me back, even the person I used to be.

Of course that was a justification I made up after the fact, as I’d yelled deal as soon as the soul reaver made the offer.