Page 30 of The Souls Harvest
The scene rolls down and off the screen, only to reappear fivepositions below. The girl is no longer running, but drifting on the water, her hair floating like golden seaweed.
“What’s just happened?” I can hardly tear my attention off the girl and focus on Roden.
He stands still momentarily, then eventually looks at me from over his shoulder, elegantly spinning his walking stick like an old-fashioned dancer—a friendly smile on his face as if amused by my interest in the fate of a stranger.
“The lower they go, the more desperate they are. And—ready to make a deal.” Simple as that.
He puts both hands on the pommel of his cane and taps the point of his shiny white shoe to the rhythm of music I can’t hear. Behind him, the river scene has slid to the very bottom of the wall. My eyes widen as the top of the girl’s screen begins to turn black like a curtain slowly falling on a stage.
“What if they don’t want to make a deal?” I mutter.
Roden’s eyes narrow on me, but he doesn’t move an inch.
I’ve seen his face many times, but it still shocks me how young he looks, despite his actual age, which is a detail - I imagine - he only shares with a chosen few, like Popplewish.
His face is one tone away from a wax mask, but not as fake—full lips and dark eyebrows, nearly as black as his hair. Everything about him is intense, powerful, and colourful, as though more life flows into him, extra blood in his veins, and more air than usual fills his lungs.
I wait for his answer, but something whispers in the back of mymind, disturbing my meeting with the Creator…We’re on the floor. Why am I on the floor—
Roden hits the marble with his cane twice, and I blink as if someone has shone a bright light in my eyes.
“What if they like their life as it is?” I vomit the question as if I’ve been punched in my guts.
The corners of Roden’s mouth lift in a wicked smile. “We show them what a waste of a good soul their choice would be.”
“But that’stheirsoul—”
His cane bites the floor again, but this time, a shooting pain behind my eyes silences me.
One second passes and the pain is gone.
“What was I saying?” I mumble. My tongue is like a fat piece of meat that doesn’t belong to me.
Still smiling at me, Roden pulls a small remote control from the pocket of his perfectly ironed dark blue trousers and switches off all the screens.
I follow his every move in a daze, feeling like I’m not really here and he’s just a projection.
Until he stands inches away from me, kneeling to meet my eyes. “Full of questions, are we? And I do like curiosity. In the right measure.” The lower he gets, the more his voice changes, turning every word into shards of ice that scratch my mind.
And yet, his hand is warm and soft against my cheek when he says, “How about I show you the truth?”
Chapter 16 - Talking Mist
July
When the wall behind me begins to rumble and shake, I do not pay it much attention because my mind is filled with memories of the day I met Roden for the first time. That lucky day, he sensed me—one of his many children—and brought me to Libera.
Nearly twenty-two years have passed, and his face remains unchanged. The shade of his eyes is still that of a blue sky, sometimes darkened by passing clouds. I cannot forget that he is the saviour who sacrificed his very soul to create the beating essence of Libera, a realm of freedom for his people. A confined kingdom where he can keep an eye on all of us.Hiskingdom and his prison—because he and Libera are tethered to each other.
“My child, if you don’t step aside, I’m afraid we’ll reach an impasse,” Roden states, with the same simplicity he’s explained to me the meaning of the dozens of screens flickering in front of me.
He gently pulls me to my feet, spins me around and frees my wrists. My mind floats empty and light under his touch. A heavy piece of black rope falls to the floor with a thumplike a dead, beautiful butterfly.
But my knees shake as if my body is trying to reject that connection.
“Have I done something wrong? Why am Ihere?” A thought is nagging in my mind, but it keeps slipping away whenever Roden speaks, blinks, or taps his cane on the floor.
But this is real. The pain in my wrists is real. The pounding in my head. The bitter tang in my mouth mixed with blood.
