Page 30 of Married to the All Hallows' Eve Alien

I check the time. If we do the Afterlife ceremony today, I only have an hour to prepare. But the longer I wait, the longer Ash will remain between the two worlds. I can’t do that to him. The doctor releases me from the medical bed, and I tentatively begin to walk out of the medical center. I’m not wearing any clothing, but that doesn’t matter. I walk directly into the empty dining hall.

“May the goddesses guide us all,” I say to get someone’s attention. Soon, a slave in green appears.

“You would like to eat?”

“Yes, the doctor…” Before I can explain more, the slave in green with his shoulder-length hair cuts me off. “I know, special circumstances. Sit.”

I take a seat. The chair is cold against my naked skin, and it feels odd to be alone in the dining room. I sit in my assigned seat. I look at Ash’s empty seat. His name is still there and will be until I send him to the Afterlife. I can’t stop the tears from welling up in my eyes. I put my hand where his hand was at the last meal we shared together. We were supposed to have so many more years together.

I’m so emotional that I don’t notice the slave returning with food and wine. He sets it in front of me and touches my shoulder. “The goddesses called him to the Afterlife, and they chose for you to remain here. Be strong in their light, Sem.”

His words help me regain some of my composure. I thank him and then drink the wine. I force myself to eat through the tears.

* * *

In my quarters, I open my wardrobe and pull out my mourning clothing from the back: black trousers and a long cloak with a hood. I put on the clothing and don the hood. My chest is exposed for convenience—accessibility for the ritual. I make my way to the shrine. As I enter, cold air rushes past me, and candles flicker. Slaves look over at me. They’ve prepared for this.

“Who comes to give Ash to the goddesses in the Afterlife?”

“I do,” I say and bow. I wipe a stray tear from my face. I never thought I would have to do this so soon.

The slaves rise silently and surround me. They too are wearing mourning clothes but in green. They circle me seven times, each time one of them cuts my chest with a knife. It’s not a deep cut, but one to make sure I’m serious. I don’t make a sound or even flinch. I let the pain melt into my grief.

After the seventh time, one of the slaves says, “Are you ready to review Ash’s life and pay the pain still owed to the goddesses?”

“I am.”

“Kneel, and we will review the debt.”

I get down on the stone floor and wait. Before me, the goddess of home’s image appears a 3D projection of Ash’s life as compiled by the Grand City Temple. Their emblem marks the video. I’ve known Ash since we were children. Although he was always a risk-taker, he never did anything too terrible. Nothing that I should be worried about now, I don’t think.

Beyond a few adorable images of Ash as a child, nothing stands out from his childhood. He was neither terrible nor angelic, neither clever nor stupid, neither good-looking nor ugly. He was, as I was, average. Then we skip to his school life, where he came into his own as a mischievous boy and when I met him. He always had the words to articulate my silence, and I liked that because I over-thought everything. When I needed something articulated, he’d always help me. When he needed something thought about, I’d do that for him. We complemented each other as best friends were meant to.

The 3D computer continues with Ash’s life by showing images of him as a young man. His first duel. Becoming a squire. Graduation from the military academy. His first assignment. There’s nothing I don’t know here. But then the symbol in green for unpaid debt to the goddesses appears, and I’m shocked. This must be a mistake. I watch on before saying anything to protest it.

When Ash was on holiday in the Empire some years ago, he met a woman at an Assembly. According to these government images, it appears they liked one another a great deal, so much so that they visited the Hotel Fire, a renowned place for illegal sex in the Capital City.

By our contracts with the High Priestess, we’ve given up all Alliance women. It’s forbidden for us to be with one after we accept our post on Alliance Force. I watch as the situation becomes worse.

A year later, the woman moves to Reima Two and marries another. She chooses to become an Outcast. I don’t want to believe that was because of Ash. Surely not.

The rest of the years pass without any surprises. Ash lived his life honorably here on the base. The last image of him talking to me in the dining hall. He was trying to convince me to tell Ivy the truth. I wish all of this were a dream. I don’t want to be here or doing this for him. I wipe my wet cheeks. How is my friend gone?

The video ends, and the High Priestess’ emblem appears again. The slaves in their green mourning robes surround me with their ceremonial knives out. A cut for every year and then additional cuts for the pain still owed for trespasses against the goddesses. Sleeping with an Alliance woman after an oath had been given not to will result in at least a hundred small cuts, maybe more.

I push back my cape behind my shoulders and take down my hood. “I’m ready to pay on behalf of Ash of the Alliance Force so that he may cross into the Afterlife. May the goddesses guide your hands and prevent me from slipping into the darkness.”

“May you be brave and not follow your friend to the Afterlife today.”

I hold out my hands, and two slaves take them. Not to hold me against my will but to keep me steady. The grooves on the stone floor must be filled with my blood to show Ash the way to the Afterlife and provide proof to the goddesses that he was such an honorable man that I’m willing to do this for him.

Once the slaves are ready, they begin chanting and cutting me. Hundreds of cuts all over my chest, torso, and arms. Enough to make me feel the sting each time, but no cut on its own can do real damage. But as a whole, the damage hundreds of cuts make could kill me if I’m not strong enough.

By the time we’ve passed the two-hundred mark, I’m beginning to become concerned. How many cuts were deemed appropriate for breaking an oath?

More cuts and I’m so dizzy. All I want to do is close my eyes and drift into darkness. I know I have already done that a few times and woke up again with a start, but the slaves hold my hands to keep me upright. But my eyes feel so heavy.

The next thing I know is that the slaves holding my hands begin shaking them to get as much blood as they can onto the floor. The room is spinning, and I feel ill. I have to concentrate to stay awake. It’s almost over. I’ve almost done it for you, Ash. Just a little bit more.

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