Page 23 of My Soul Is His

“Son,” a deep voice says.

I tear my gaze from the abyss of my flashbacks and stare at Berimund.

“Yes?”

“It’s time. Let’s go.”

I don’t ask where. I assume they have to dispose of broken souls because we’re useless now, and if it means I’m put out of my misery, it’s the least I could do.

Marla hasn’t been back to the forest since that day, and her absence weighs heavily on me. I hate that I caused her pain. I wanted her to find solace away from the harsh, unforgiving world I’m trapped in.

We walk through the terrain in silence until we reach a green wall wrapped with foliage. Tanca and Giso stand next to a tinted glass door I’m not able to see beyond.

Screams fill the air behind us, and an urge to turn back tugs at my heart. It feels like Marla is in danger, and I can’t tell if that is real or part of the demon.

I thought after so many years I would get used to him, but it’s the most torturous thing I’ve ever experienced.

“What’s happening?”

Berimund wraps his arm around my shoulder. With a squeeze, he smiles. We stand in front of the glass.

Tanca nods at me, “it’s time for a new adventure. It doesn’t happen often, but after the years, you’ve survived, and with the resiliency you’ve shown Cavum Terra, it’s the right moment to move on.”

His words whirl in my head. I can’t make sense of what’s next, but I know there has to be a place better than this depressing wasteland. Although I’ve abandoned Marla, I should find her first.

“What about Marla?”

“The leadership you both had in building communities is unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” Giso says, her voice filled with admiration. “You left no one behind, and the compassion you and Marla showed to those with mental struggles was remarkable.”

I glance at the route we came through. The path is gone, and it’s covered with overgrowth. Looking back at the Lords, I don’t know what anything means.

“What do I need to do?”

“Nothing. Karus Anima is the reward for the people who don’t succumb to their demons. Although other spirits are there, it is more than fighting forever. Across Cavum Terra, the communities you and Marla built hum with the tireless work of those who continue to protect souls. You both created a legacy of selflessness, and we couldn’t be more proud of you two,” Berimund says before pushing me toward the door.

“Marla? I need to go save her. I fucked things up.”

“If it’s meant to be, you will know it,” Giso says. She squeezes my hand before opening the door and shoving me through.

The path stretching ahead consists of varied gravel and stones, some worn smooth, others sharp. Large branches, their leaves a deep, lush green, shade the entrance.

I turn, ready to ask more questions, but the opening is gone, swallowed by a thick wall of leafy growth that smells of damp earth.

Missing the fresh air, I inhale deeply, the cool breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers, and walk down the path. With a glance upward at the breathtaking royal-blue sky, the clouds look like fluffy cotton candy. The grass here is green, unlike the yellowing scrub of Cavum Terra where the broken ground is always reaching for you to fall.

Everything here is tranquil so far, the trails clear and stable. I wander along the greenery to a flowing river. The water is pristine, and I see coloured rocks and darting fish.

I should have asked the Lords what the fuck Karus Anima stood for. I could be in a realm of deception for all I know. Though as I pause and glance around, the only sounds are the birds chirping, and I don’t see any of my demons.

The weight has been lifted from my chest since I took on the blue one from Marla, and I wonder if our efforts have been rewarded with something good.

Although I learned to be a better person because of Marla, it didn’t seem like a big deal to provide souls with compassion in their afterlife. Everyone has their own experiences with mental health and lack of care on Earth. Each of us carries the scars of our own battles, the chilling presence of our inner demons a constant companion, especially in Cavum Terra, where they tortured so many for so long.

I don’t understand who could treat anyone any differently for their choices to escape mental illness.

Continuing along the riverbank, I take in the rich colours of the forests and sky. People pass by with smiles on their face, and I nod as I continue looking for the only reason I care to breathe air. Not being assaulted by nefarious smells or the sudden march of thunder is a different pace, as if this place is meant to be enjoyed.

After I cross over a bridge, I come to an area filled with small identical homes. The smell of cut grass is in the air.

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