Lonesome Souls - Tales of the Souls, Vol I

Chapter Two

Nav, Axis Mundi, Vitajria

Nav, the roots of Axis Mundi, situated on the west of Zemjia, was a strange yet necessary expanse of never-ending parched deserts and prairies. A land of nothingness drowned in darkness. Even the thinnest stem of grass grew obsidian and silent. In the middle stood a gigantic gothic structure; a grim, windowless fort constructed from tightly placed black stone bricks. It stood upright and dangerous, repelling wrongful creatures, and its gloomy architecture was a perfect fit for the emotionless and lonesome king Amudilio, the owner of all Zemjia's souls.

Not that Stefania ever met the new king Amudilio, coronated mere ten years ago, but she assumed that he was a copy of his brother, the exiled king Veles.

The three hundred miles per hour winds and temperatures reaching below minus-hundred degrees Celsius repelled the mortals. Even if a mortal somehow entered Nav's grounds, they would not survive, and the strong and opposing magnetic field would interrupt any communication and camera signals.

In the south of Nav, next to an enchanted expanse called Smrti Forest, which guarded the entrance to Peklo and Satlava, stood a black-bricked palace called Morena Domicile. Although smaller than Veles' fortress, Morena Domicile was vastly decorated by golden statues and symbols of Nav, the entrance littered with satin, black tulips, and lit up by wooden fire torches. The soft murmur of the Melancholia River flowing next to the palace lulled the newborn souls in the large Galley on their way to Bunka, part of the Morena Domicile where souls would spend the next five years of their existence.

Inside the palace, Stefania's queasy stomach almost gave way to vomit, as she and Nazaria appeared in one of the many halls enwrapped in darkness. The only small amount of light came from the candles above their heads, which floated and bumped into eachother ungracefully. Its dimmed lights reflected on the black mirrored tiles.

With each quick breath, a pale cloud escaped Stefania's mouth. The atmosphere, a mere short, five degrees Celsius milder, compared to the exterior.

Nazaria navigated the floors in her snake form whilst Stefania followed, her steps echoing in time with her chaotic heartbeat. They were accompanied by an echo of achingly beautiful, heart-wrenching piano notes. The pianist radiated overwhelming sadness, which in waves stroked the tips of Stefania's hair, and until they reached Bunka, she wondered who possessed so much sadness even the music vailed with melancholy.

A warm breeze caressed Stefania's soul upon entrance into Bunka, and a bright green aurora borealis assaulted her vision. She breathed in the sweet scent of caramel as she took off her shoes and enjoyed soft stems of grass, moistened with cooling dew, tickling her feet. Wings buzzed as a horde of small guardian seraphs flew amongst millions of beehive-like compartments, fussing over newborn souls.

Her eyes burned at a distant memory.

She was a mortal girl amongst green fields coloured in wildflowers, her mummy's powerful embrace filled with endless love. She could not remember much more, just the simple touch. Her mother's face was a grey blur, her voice a pale silence, her scent faded. A scarce memory of her life and childhood.

Next to the entrance, engulfed in dark shadows, stood a black wing piano. The white smooth keys were a perfect antinomy of the darkness. The pianist, who was a slouched male figure, swayed with the rhythm of the nocturne no. twenty. The piece played with sorrowful passion, and each key was stroked with soft elegance.

Stefania walked closer to the golden-haired soul of a soldier she gathered during the first popularisation of Zemjia after a few heart-breaking events. His eyes shut as he pressed the keys with rare precision until all were silenced. Even the Seraphs, natural Empaths, and telepaths all stopped to look.