A Perfect World

Chapter 20

Mascherry explains to me how the Fate of Death, the one that takes care of making sure people don’t die too early and bringing them back if and when they do pass too soon, and the Head Fate, Templa, the one with weaker versions of the other two Fates abilities, can both see souls without needing a spell, charm, or potion. She goes on to explain how some mortals have a heightened sense of soul-identification compared to others, making then optimal candidates for being the Death Fates’ apprentice so they can take that role, or sometimes the Head Fate’s role when it comes time for the Fates themselves to move on.

I don’t really understand what she means by ‘move on’, since they’re deities, but it doesn’t seem to be very important so I leave that topic undiscussed while we work on my ability. Mascherry summons souls for me to identify, confirming or correcting me. She starts with stronger ones that are easier to feel and moves progressively to weaker ones, pausing when I have trouble identifying them. Even so, I learn fast, quickly connecting the different auras I can feel with a certain soul color, or identity as she sometimes calls it.

Red has a very determined, iron-willed feel, like nothing can stop them. Orange is very calm and composed, their aura never affected by how they feel, quite similar to yellow, except they’re just excited about everything and are always happy. Green is very proud, but not often stuck-up, and determined, similarly to the way red seems set on their goals.

Blue are very gentle, kind souls, like the kind of people that everyone seems drawn to. Purple are very reserved and observant, not often having a very prominent aura, but when they do it’s very powerful and attention-grabbing. White and black are almost opposites, often having different feels to the same traits. White makes the air feel lighter and hopeful, while black suppresses those emotions with the same energy. They’re both the kind of souls you would entrust with being the ‘smart one’ in a group, as well. Silver is mainly just authoritative, but also often sharing traits of other souls.

Twice she shows me static souls, their lack of anything very unsettling. It’s just like Syven when we were talking, their eyes empty and lifeless as if nothing had lived there for years, and never planned on coming back, dust piling up on old dreams, hopes, and well-planned ambitions that would never be reached. It took all of my willpower not to start hunting for some magic incantation that could let me help them.

A few hours after we start, Emory and Claire come into the room looking like they’d been up for hours, which they probably had. They didn’t usually start interacting with people for a few hours after they wake up, making it quite difficult to know how long they had really been awake. Chamberlynn calls Emory over, summoning the same book she taught me from yesterday. Claire walks across the room to the kitchen counter to meet Templa as she works on some unseen potion.

For hours we sit and work, Mascherry guiding me to notice the slightest shifts in the shade of someone's soul. She explains how souls’ colors are very flexible, and they aren’t always the same. A soul can be green-blue, a kind, caring, ambitious, and resourceful person, or a kind of reddish-pink color to represent a brave, kind, courageous, and friendly person. This isn’t to say these are the only traits the soul possesses, but they are the ones that dominate their personality. A pink soul can still be cunning like green, and black can still be a logical planner like yellow, but they aren’t their dominant traits.

Once or twice Claire blows something up, and Emory cries out after mispronounced words more than that, but we all learn well. At some point, Claire throws a gold potion at me and it explodes across my skin, soaking into it, and I feel a familiar sensation. Wings. I stretch my gold wings wide, standing up and flapping them a few times before jumping, and flipping off a wall to show off a bit, and gliding across the room, using a bit of downward momentum to climb higher without much work. I land gracefully in front of the couch by Mascherry, and the wings melt into a golden fog, flying through the air and back into a clear flask Claire is holding. She thrusts it forward again, the potion maintaining momentum until it hits Emory, earning a similar effect. She flies through the air just as easily as I did, but a bit less gracefully. She bumps into walls, easily turning them into aerial tricks, flipping and twisting through the air, her magic wings melting into fog at flying back into Claire’s jar before she turns it on herself. She takes up all available space, flipping, and twisting, gliding flat against the walls and ceiling, landing with perfect, casual grace leaning against the counter as her wings melt back into the flask.