|[ THE FAERI'S KEEPER ]|

Chapter 38: The Keeper of Souls

 "Well..." I said over my shoulder, feeling a coldness that had nothing to do with my wet clothes settle over my limbs. "I guess I'll see you in a while." I said. My chest tightened until I couldn't breathe and my heart was banging painfully against my ribs. I wasn't scared... or was I? Was this some new fear I had not felt before, one that threatened to choke my very being? I had faced death many times. Every moment I had stepped out to face one of the Fae, when I had stepped onto that battlefield. But each of those times I had known I would be fine, had trusted in my instincts to keep me alive.

I didn't know what this was. I didn't know how I would survive this... didn't know if I would even make it out at all. I began to walk, small steps at first, before I forced myself to move faster. We didn't have time to wait.

"Good luck, Irene." Claude called after me. I nodded to let him know I had heard, but I didn't answer.

***

The trees enveloped me under their glass ceiling, their branches forming windows through which I could glimpse the black sun. Even the grass was made of glass and it crunched slightly under my feet, but as I kept walking it would spring back up, swaying slightly. It was life and death, I realised, tied into one beautiful entity that moved and swayed with the soft wind; that glittered under a sun suspended in night.

"Sylktäs." I whispered, feeling the strange word roll off my tongue.

Pale blue-white figures moved thin and out of view occasionally, as if they were a part of the thick mist that constantly swirled around the forest. I felt the touch of cold on my arm and jerked away to see a pale figure hastily retreating. It looked like the drowning soul, but its eyes were wide and white, and its mouth wasn't twisted in pain. I felt no malice from it, only curiosity.

"Living..." it whispered, shocked. The word sent a shiver through me. I was the strange one here, the thing of flesh and blood in a world of wisps and smoke. Voices began to echo around me, all saying the same word: "Living."

I began walking faster, the chorus becoming louder and louder. My heart thundered in my ears, as if beckoning me on, a constant reminder of the word the souls shouted at me. Soon it was almost painful to hear, the voices becoming screeching animal sounds and the pale figures that approached me morphed, their fingers curling into claws. Souls could be beautiful.

They could also be terrifying.

I started running, dodging under their outstretched hands. Something told me not to let them touch me... I couldn't let their ice cold fingers caress my skin...

"Living!" they cried, "Living!" my heart thundered loudly in my chest. Surely that was what was drawing them to me? My beating pulse? The warm flush of my cheeks. The signs that my body gave away so easily, that I still lived. They surrounded me, mouths gaping, and I wondered if they were all the same, all seeking to kill others the way they had been killed. My hand went to my sword, though I doubted it would have much effect against the dead.

"Enough!" shouted a voice as my fingers touched the cool metal. All at once there was silence but somehow the quiet seemed louder than the shrieking before. I clamped my hands over my ears and glanced around, searching for who had quietened the spirits.

I saw him leaning against a tree, his beautiful blue cloak flowing from his shoulders. It pooled around his feet like the darkest water, as thick as ink. Sprouting out of his back were those awful wings, made of bone and shreds of leathery skin. His hood was up and he was facing away from me, a coiled whip in his left hand. It gleamed black like oil. In his right he held a scythe, the blade as long as I was tall, made of glittering steel.

He could only be one person.

"Abbadon?" I asked cautiously. He looked different to when I had first seen him, and yet the cloak was unmistakable.