Page 44 of The Souls Harvest
Galen sighs, resting his back against the bench and casually extending an arm over my shoulders. “Souls are liquid and airy and in constant transformation. Nistarei, Rogues, us… We’re not that different, you know. Nobody can stop us from liking or disliking another soul, no matter whatkindwe belong to. Masks protect our identities, but our minds and eyes do not answer to anyone.”
The man has restarted his laboured walk; that trolley is challenging him, despite his height and strong build. My mindwanders without my permission, and I picture that man working on Horigos’ southern shores, his skin tanning under the sweltering summer sun.
“Libera to July. Where did you go?”
I blink, and the image of Horigos fades away. This could be my only chance to tell Galen everything. That I know the way my next soul smiles, the look of terror in his light green eyes. And that he did not make any bargain with Roden because he is not a Nistares nor a Rogue—he’s one of us, and I’m the one designated to shred his soul to pieces.
Instead, I brace my forearms on my knees, staring at the empty square. “I hopetheywon’t suffer too much. Whoever they are,” I shrug and put the rest of my doughnut back in its brown bag. “Galen,” I take a deep breath, measuring every word I’m about to say, “Have you ever thought about leaving this place?”
His eyes widen, and the sunlight catches the little silver specks in his left iris, turning his blue right eye into a miniature lake. His cup of coffee stops halfway to his lips, and I expect to see Lily and Nikrah popping out of the bushes behind us to take him away and teach me a lesson.
Have I said too much? Did I trigger something inside him without realising it?
I peer over my shoulder and offer a smile to melt his sudden stiffness.
“What do you mean? Like a holiday?” He puts the cup down on the bench.
“Never mind.” I wave one hand as if to disperse a cloud of flies. “I was just toying with the idea of anungiftedlife,like the Nistarei’s. Their souls sound so… Simple.”
He cocks his head, shading his eyes from the sun rising over the horizon. “Why? You’re not happy here?” His innocence will always strike me.
I play with the edge of my paper bag until it tears. “I am, but sometimes I’d like to know what it feels like to live every day not knowing what will happen next. To travel and meet new people who will remember you even when you’re gone, as in gone-gone.”
Galen places a hand over mine. “You mean—dead?” The atmosphere around us darkens. It's just a passing cloud, but to me, it has a different, daunting meaning.
I fall silent, searching for an answer in the pavement of clean stones with engraved little flowers.
The gentle touch of his thumb, brushing the back of my hand, and his voice, snatch me out of my reverie. “I will never forget you, Sof. Even if sometimes I wish you weren’t so clingy and loud and messy and—”
“Galen Sulfridge,” I spring up, nearly spilling coffee everywhere. “You should be honoured to call one of the brightest Harvesters - and the only living one who can capture Rogues - your friend…”
Friend…I recoil, but Galen is already on his feet, pretending he’s offended and about to leave me here.
“Galen, wait.” I pick up the pace until I’m by his side. He tries to hide a giggle, and I exhale so loudly that my breath shines brightpurple in the pouring sunlight.
He mutters with his face half hidden in his hood, “You’re an idiot.” I spot a little puff of violet darkened by the coffee that still lingers on his tongue.
“Yes, but you taught me how to be the best idiot,” I tease him as we stroll towards the shore, where we usually sit for the rest of the morning until our stomachs remind us that we need some grown-up food, and cannot just survive on sugar and caffeine.
Lost in our little microcosm, I realise we’re heading for the shortcut through the wood rather than the main path with the flowery arches, and I freeze. My legs and mind recall the recent events, and I fear I cannot take another step. How do I explain to him that now I’m terrified of the trees we used to climb when we were kids?
When my phone rings, relief spreads from every single cell of my body.Private Numberflashes on my screen, and I automatically look at Galen, who shrugs. “Maybe they have the wrong number.”
Maybe. Or…
“Hello,” I try to keep my voice as neutral as possible.
“2 p.m. My office.”
The conversation, if I can call it that, ends with a click, which can only mean one thing: a landline. Popplewish’s vintage office phone.
“Who was that?” Galen asks.
I check the time before my screen goes off. I still have a few hours before my meeting, but I need to find an excuse to skip ourfancy takeaway on the beach, where we crouch between the same two massive rocks by the water, to avoid the rest of the students. And Lucretia, in Galen’s case.
I’m wondering how she is. I didn’t mention her name, but I’m sure the Chapter has all the right tools to track down the source of the video and whoever received it.
“Sof!” Galen waves a hand in my face, so close I can smell coffee on his skin, “Where did you go?”
