The Soulreaper ushers me into the parlour. Her hand is surprisingly gentle on my back as she guides me to the sofa. I lower myself with hesitation, stealing a look at the corner of the rug beneath me.
It doesn’t look disturbed. You can barely see the edge of the floorboard curling up underneath.
My mind clings to fragments of the last day.Am I dreaming?None of this makes any sense. I was only late for work this morning, and now my sister is gone.
The Soulreaper disappears for a moment, leaving me to gather my breath before returning with a steaming cup in her hand, swirling with a frothy indigo liquid.
“Here we are,” she sings. “A cup of nightsage tea for the nerves.”
I shake my head to say no. The sweet leafy smell reminds me of my mum – she used to brew us a cup of nightsage whenever we got hurt as children – but I can’t stomach the thought of food or drink right now.
“Please, dear, I insist,” the woman says.
I take the cup from her, gazing upon her smiling face. I don’t see anything at first, but then, with a blink, something in her eyes shifts, just for an instant. It feels ominous anddark, hauntingly familiar. It dawns on me why. It’s the same feeling of bitterness I experienced yesterday, here on this very sofa, when I touched the Soul Wraith.
It’s the taste of corruption.Murder.
I rest the cup of tea on the chest beside me and lift my gaze to meet her eyes once more. The Soulreaper blinks again, and dark wisps of negative energy slither across her features, the innocence in her face at once replaced by something sinister and rotten.
“Something wrong with the tea?” she asks.
I don’t care to answer. I’ve had enough of this charade.
My hand shoots up to snatch one of the dark wisps swirling around her shoulder and, as I absorb it, a vision forms in front of me. Elara, standing at her mirror, tying a ribbon around the end of her plait. She adjusts the bow, lost in thought.
Then, in the reflection of the mirror, she sees two reddish-brown eyes lurking in the corner of the room, framed by tangled yellow-blonde curls. Before she can move, another figure, a hulking man, grabs her, his filthy hands smothering her scream.
I hear her voice tremble. Broken pleas escape between her captor’s fingers.
The Soulreaper approaches as the man holds Elara tight. She runs a nail along Elara’s cheek before wrapping her hand around her neck. She doesn’t squeeze, but Elara gags.
There’s a pull, like a cord under too much pressure. Anda snap. Elara’s soul tears free, unravelling from the core of her being. Then … a void.
A silent, gaping tear where Elara’s vibrant light should be. My lungs burn, choked by a scream that refuses to break free. She … shetookher. Ripped her away.
“You killed her!” I scramble to my feet and lunge at the woman. But she’s faster than me. The woman pushes me back down on the sofa, her fingers pressed against my chest, almost as though to force them through my ribs.
She starts to pull at the essence of my soul, and it feels like I’m underwater, trying to break the surface. I gasp, but it’s a dry, heaving sound.
There’s the pull again. The straining cord. I feel my life force draining, and the world starts to blur. I’m slipping away. It’s strangely easier than I thought it would be, far less painful to let go than I imagined.
In some twisted way, I crave it. My parents are gone, and my sister, too. I want to yield to her power and let go. But then I think of Elara. She didn’t deserve to die, and I can’t let this monster get away with it.
I summon every ounce of my strength and reach out with an arm, groping blindly for the cup of tea on the chest. Managing to hook my finger around the handle, I grasp it and hurl it at the woman. She screeches and leaps away from me, covered in boiling liquid. She looks down at her chest, where a dark stain spreads across the burgundy fabric. A line forms between her brows as her charming facade crumbles away.
When she looks back up at me, her eyes are bristling with anger. “Don’t you dare come at me again, girl!”
I lurch to my feet. “You’re a Soulreaper…”
“You’re a thief!” She smirks at my surprise. “Yes, I know it was you. Just goes to show – you never know who you’re stealing from, do you?”
“Soulreaping is forbidden by law.” I rub my throat where she grabbed me. It still feels like her fiery fingers are pressing into my skin. “You killed those merchants … and my sister. There’s no way you’re getting away with this. The Principal Guard will trace everything back to you. You are a monster!”
“Let them try,” she says, her tone oozing with confidence. “They can’t trace someone who doesn’t exist.”
“What do you mean?” I narrow my eyes. This woman – no, monster – has murdered four people in cold blood, and she doesn’t seem to care. If she gets caught, she could be looking at the death penalty. The Soulreaper’s Decree will see to it. I don’t understand how she’s so confident.Who is she?
“Let’s just say I’m a ghost. One who has eyes and ears everywhere,” the woman whispers. “I don’t normally go out of my way to make myself known. It causes a bit of drama, you see. But when a young Emo girl goes around pawning stolen Necroseals that belong to me…”
