Page 55 of The Souls Harvest
“I know you like to feel special,” he teases me, arching a brow and pushing me lightly. “But the island is full of people born on Horigos who then moved to Libera—thanks to Roden.” There is a pause as he studies me in silence. “Thanks to your unique ability…”
Under the intricate web of artificial lights and the night hue, Galen’s face is a puzzle of shadows and reflections, but his voice is as clear as ever, and I can’t ignore how it drops when he mentions Roden.
“Hmm,” I distractedly bite my thumbnail. “My ability is only good when the worst is about to happen. I’m more like Roden’s personal soul-sweeper.”
For some reason, I can’t shake off the feeling that, lately, Galen and I have been playing a game of tug-of-war where he pulls me right back in whenever I try to break free from an uncomfortable conversation. But this is no children’s game because if I pull too hard, he could end up in a treacherous pool of quicksand, and I will have to jump in, if not to save him, to share at least the destiny I’ve forced upon him.
My thoughts spiral—quickly.
But when I’m about to reach the bottom of my dark well, Galen taps me on the head with that open smile that works better than ten hours of sleep, “Come on, little egg. Let’s go somewhere warmer before the party of thoughts in your brain cracks your shell open.”
I push up on my toes to cast a last glance at the hills, now wrapped in a milky mist, while an early snowflake lands on my hand. “Galen, look,” I exclaim. “I guess you were right.”
“As if I’m never not,” he giggles and offers me his jumper. “Promise me you’ll come back.” He adds with a dim light in his eyes, I can’t explain. Perhaps it’s just a reflection of the fairy lights.
“Only if you promise me you won’t fall madly in love with Lucretia.” I stick my tongue out before running away. “Whoever reaches the bottom of the stairs first decides what to eat!” I shout.
Chapter 23 - H
July
The five towers of the Wise are all equipped with two separate sets of stairs: one running along the external structure, not often used due to safety reasons but great for enjoying the panoramic view while going up and down the steps, and one built inside the towers, lined with doors that lead to the many rooms of the castle.
As I skip down the steps of the outer staircase, Galen’s laughter follows me, and I wish I could bottle those notes and keep them with me forever. I brush my hands over the ancient stones until his voice and some timid snowflakes melt in the wind, which whistles behind me and through the cracks in the boulders.
Wait a minute…
Even if his voice is nothing but a fresh memory because, for some reason, Galen has decided not to run after me, the sound of something other than the wind seems to chase me not too far behind.
On an intermediate landing, I freeze halfway to check if Galen has trained so often with Popplewish that Ididn’t notice he was silently walking behind me.
I spin on my heel, excited to see his familiar silver and brown eyes, but I only find an empty and eerily quiet space. Pushed by instinct, I flatten against the wall as if making space for something to pass by without seeing me.
“Who’s there?” My whisper comes out dark purple, and I frown at that sign of my surging distress.
The old stones are warm under my hand when I seek something to hold onto in the semi-darkness of the young night; the gleam of the fairy lights is now just a comforting memory.
“Galen, this is not funny…”
Why is the wall so warm?
I can’t see much before me, and there is no other sound but the constant howling of the wind carrying the last snowflakes of the season. I slowly peel myself off the wall, taking a few steps backwards until my left heel meets the void of the next step.
“July?” Galen’s scream hits me like a frozen spike to my chest, a moment before a louder noise takes over.
I don’t know when the snow turned into rain, but the water hits the walls with such fury that it roars in my ears like endless thunder. I retract my hand from the wall as the icy drops roll down my skin, and the mixture of hot and cold confuses my senses.
“What’s happening? Galen?” My voice is so weak compared to the rain; I struggle to hear myself.
“Sooof…”
The stones beneath my feet shake violently, and I bend my kneesto keep my balance. With arms flung out, I turn my head left and right, searching for the source of my sudden fear.
Then everything stops.
I lean against the solid wall that shares one side with the indoor staircase of the tower, finding the stones too warm despite the icy, angry blades falling from the sky. I shake water and locks of hair off my face and try to slow my breath, inhaling cold droplets with a hint of something acrid.
An army of growls rolls beneath my feet, shaking my bones and the ground so violently that even the curtain of rain seems to recoil upwards until nothing but traces of its furious and brief passage remains.
