The Court of Souls?

by Andur

  Though I feel a little sting in my heart for losing the cute, innocent Seria.

  Is this how my parents felt when they had the ceremony performed on me? No, they didn't even know who their daughter would turn out to be. Shade and I have the advantage of knowing that our daughter will be a decent person. Though Cylus will be an entirely different matter. I hope he won't turn out to be some kind of unacceptable character.

  Doreen stops her chanting and lowers her hands. Then she snaps her fingers in front of Seria's face. My daughter opens her eyes and reaches for her head, grimacing in pain and confusion. “Who? Where?”

  My grandmother smiles. “I am Doreen, your great-grandmother. Do you remember who you are?”

  Seria blinks. “I am Seria, the goddess and life and death! And you are not my grandmother! Where am I?”

  Doreen chuckles. “So you remember. That's good. You were reincarnated into a new world, Dedessia. We think that this is a new version of the multiverse after the demise of the old one.”

  Seria's eyes search the room until they land on me and Shade. “And who are they?”

  “Those are your parents, Elona and Shade-” Doreen's words are cut off by an unholy shriek. And the next thing I notice is that Seria flies past me and right into Shade's face, scratching and biting. I didn't even know that her petite, new body had so much strength, let alone jumping power. It seems like the joining of Shade and me had a positive effect on our children's strength. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised. Having a baby cost us a lot of mana. If I put the required energy for Seria's and her brother's creation on a scale, then I would end up with several nuclear explosions.

  “You killed me! And you have the impertinence to capture my soul and resurrect me with some whore! Wait until I find my real parents! I'll take your soul and then I'll offer you to them as a sacrifice!” Seria's shrieks reverberate through the room.

  I place both hands on my cheeks and feel my heart warm up again. “She is such a loyal daughter, isn't she? She sees us as her parents in mind and soul, no matter the ties of blood.”

  Doreen's face paled and her jaw dropped. If it was possible, it would surely reach the ground. “I never had such a reaction! Never! We have to help Shade!”

  Using my tail, I separate Seria from Shade's face and secure her to the point of being unable to move. She struggles, but is unable to break out of my grasp. “I am so glad that you are yourself again, Seria. And you immediately remembered us! I can't describe the warm feelings in my heart.”

  I close my arms around her and hug her tightly. “Don't be fooled by our new alias. I am Celes.”

  At last she stops struggling. “Mom!? Then that means...”

  “Yes, I am Angrod!” Shade gets back to his feet, his face full of scratches and a bite mark on his nose. But the injuries don't seem to concern him. He looks more heartbroken than anything else. “I am sorry!”

  “You better be! I doubt I ever had such a traumatizing event so far! Being killed by the one person who I trusted the most!” Seria calls out and then she blushes. “And to think that I even had a thing for you! This will haunt me for years!”

  I ruffle her hair and smile. “I gathered that much from Shade's account of the events. Both of us worked hard to make it up to you. You can have a normal childhood. Dedessia is no longer the unforgiving world you knew. Though there is still a lot of work to do.”

  I hurry to the window and open it to show Seria our new crystal city. It's a real, modern city with parks and plants. “Welcome to the realm of Dedessia! And this is its capital! The Crystal City! We created an entire set of closed environments to keep the dangerous wildlife outside and grow food. Shade and I are thinking about using gravity magic to rework our society into a Dyson sphere, once we have enough people. But that step is still a long time in the future.

  “For now you can bask in the pleasures of being the first princess of Dedessia's new royal line! We thought about using a democracy or something like a technocracy, but why should we allow anyone else to tell us what to do?”

  “A Dyson swarm of many independent cities would be much more feasible,” Shade interjects.

  Seria stares at the blue, glittering city which spreads out around the palace. “So it's back to being a princess? Again? Oh, joy. Can't we pretend being normal, just once?”

  68. ~Crystal City.~

  “The dullahan is a type of Irish fae categorised in the unseelie court. Its head is permanently separated from its body, which it carries under its arm. It will always arrive riding a black horse and sometimes come accompanied with a wagon cobbled together out of skeletons. Either of these modes of transport will travel with speed so fast the sparks given off could set alight the roadside growth. Its rotted face is rumoured to have huge eyes and a very wide grin.”

  The Journey to the Afterlife

  Dedessia, the Sea of Souls, Crystal City

  Shade

  I enter the study and freeze. The room is already occupied by Tisha, Chloe and Seria. But that's not what caused me to halt in my tracks. “Why is my daughter bound to a chair and gagged?”

  Seria looks truly pitiful in her current state. She even managed to press out some fake tears. And yes, they are really fake tears. After an eternity of playing daddy for her I know that her shrewd personality doesn't allow for crying.

  “She is the devil!”

  “A hellion!”

  “We have to teach her how to be a proper lady!”

  “She is the princess, she has to hold up appearances!”

  My gaze wanders from Chloe to Tisha and finally to Seria. Her eyes say everything there is to say. If I don't save her, all chance of being recognized as her father is gone.

  “I'll take care of it, ladies.” I plaster a fake smile to my face and head over, picking up Seria together with the chair. I admit that I never expected that Tisha and Chloe would be able to restrain Seria.

  Chloe blocks me from leaving. “Which guarantee do we have that you'll do something about her behaviour? She was rummaging through our private items. And she definitely wasn't doing it out of childlike curiosity!”

  Ah! Perfectly normal behaviour for Seria. The first thing on her agenda is always knowledge about her relatives, preferably to be used for blackmail. “I'll talk to her. We are family after all. There is no reason to turn our bonds into a political war.”

  I manoeuvre my way around Chloe, just to encounter Tisha. “She refuses to be taught her memory lessons. If she ever wants to regain all her memories, then she has to learn and train! Repetition is the only way in which it can be accomplished!”

  Pursing my lips, I think of an appropriate answer. “Seria surely didn't mean that she doesn't want to learn at all. Nonetheless, I'll take care of that. Her mind will be as swift as anybody else's.”

  I push past my mother and hurry to get away, feeling their glares stabbing into my back. If their eyes were real daggers, I would be dead.

  For lack of a better idea, I head for the balcony which I find empty. I place Seria on the ground and remove the gag, not failing to notice the very complicated seal which is binding my daughter's magic. Tisha and Chloe didn't underestimate her, I have to give them that. Maybe they are even able to deal with her on an equal footing? Then again... it was two versus one... child.

  “They hit me when I tried to flee! What kind of grandparent does something like that? They didn't even react when I played all my cuteness cards!” Seria calls out as soon as she is free.

  I clear my throat and start removing the rope which is binding her. “They are steeled by a life in this world. If you remember your life as Legna, I am sure that you understand that such experiences produce hardy people, which doesn't mean that they don't love their family-”

  I stop and after a few moments of silence I add, “In their own way.”

  “And you turned out the same?” Seria asks.

  Wincing, I shrug. “Hasn't Elona filled you in? We had quite some trouble to get to this point. And I fear that the s
tory with Moonray isn't over yet.”

  Seria squints her eyes. “No, Mom swooned over me and I had a hard time in getting away. Luckily I already have a brother who can be used as a distraction. Who is Moonray?”

  I sigh and start telling her the story from my point of view. While doing so, the sky darkens and the city starts shining with her own lights. The crystal is providing its own light where it is needed. The old, medieval architecture is long gone and was replaced by modern buildings. Many rise several stories into the sky, but none come close to the palace with its four towers.

  The streets are filled with busy people day and night. Most of our society's concerns revolve around agricultural problems like food production and waste management. A society which cannot allow anything to go to waste needs to put extra effort into recycling old stuff. Despite everything, we aren't at a point where being wasteful can be forgiven. Most other things are provided by our crystal technology.

  A few determined individuals are already trying to get an entertainment industry going. Though it will be a bumpy ride until we can expect the first real movies from them. Elona showed me their first attempt and it was abysmal.

  Nonetheless, I am sure that such problems are just a matter of time. As long as we stay in command as the absolute rulers, we can steer everything in the right direction. Our main concern is keeping the gods in check. Sure, our rule never stood in question, but Elona is determined on enforcing moral and jurisdictional values. She doesn't want anyone to be able to say that our great new world is a bad place to live in.

  “That's quite the story. And you really think that the multiverse had a reset? Why? Don't you remember?” Seria asks after I finished my story.

  I shrug and shake my head. “No, sorry. Not a single clue. Neither your mother, nor I remember the end. Maybe the multiverse simply ran its natural way and ended. There are theories that each universe has a limited lifetime.”

  I decide to use the chance and clap my hands together. “So why don't we train together like in the old days? I'll teach you some techniques to train your memories. With my guidance you will be back to your old self in no time! I promise!”

  Seria glares at me, wrinkling that cute forehead of hers. “You mean like counting Yggdrasil's leaves, or drawing perfect copy-paste pictures of him? There are machines for stuff like that!”

  “But this multiverse doesn't seem to give you a free pass on your memories. There must be huge gaps in yours, don't you want to fill them?” I ask.

  She looks up to me and squints her eyes. “Oh, but I remember. I remember the important stuff perfectly well, believe me. And those memories tell me that you owe me.”

  “Ahem, yes. That's why I want to help you?” I answer.

  An evil grin appears on Seria's face and she spreads her hands. “Hug me. At least twice a day!”

  I fiddle with my fingers. “I am your father. A father shouldn't do that too often. Hugs with daughters are for special occasions. Anything else could have repercussions on my manliness. We have to keep up appearances.”

  “Bullshit! A father can hug his children as much as he wants. Either you give me a lot of hugs or I will tell Mom!” Her expression turns defiant.

  I try to play stupid. “Tell her what?”

  “My memories took a few dents, but there are more than enough secrets in your past, and they still hold value if I spill them to Mom,” Seria growls, totally unlike a child.

  I bend down and pick her up, crushing her against my chest. I feel my heart warm by doing this, but it also damages my image of being a superior father figure. After a few moments I ask, “Enough?”

  “Hugs don't count if they don't last over a minute. Now. How do you want to go about this memory training?” she asks.

  I bide my time to think about it. There are several possibilities and all of them are more or less the same. The main concern always lies in training your short-term memory to transfer memories more easily to your long-term memory. Ishaan's training involved a lot of counting and memorizing numbers at a glance. Elona's side of the family is training with pictures, creating something like a photographic memory.

  Maybe a combination of the two techniques would be more interesting to Seria? She is a person who is easily bored. And we have to find another motive which actually interests her. Nothing against Yggdrasil, but the tree is boring. My gaze wanders to the big nature reserve right next to the palace. In its middle stands Yggdrasil, fanning-out above the city. The stupid plant is Doreen's pet, so we had no choice but to make room for it. Even though it is bigger than the palace. At least it is a good source of food. Eventually we will have to include one of those trees in every new city.

  Then a thought strikes me. “Oh, I know! How about throwing some of the remaining slavers from our highest tower! You can try to memorize the patterns when they go splat in the courtyard!”

  Seria sighs. “I think I'll pass on that. But I would like to see your new torture chambers and the laboratory. Maybe we find something interesting on the way.”

  69. ~New rule.~

  “Impalement, as a method of execution, is the penetration of a human by an object such as a stake, pole, spear, or hook, often by complete or partial perforation of the torso. It was used particularly in response to "crimes against the state" and regarded across a number of cultures as a very harsh form of capital punishment and recorded in myth and art.”

  The Journey to the Afterlife

  Dedessia, the Sea of Souls, Crystal City

  Elona

  “Stop pouting, it doesn't fit your cute face. How about something sweet when Mommy is done with the official stuff?” I try to lighten my daughter's mood and pat her head. Cylus is with my mother. She opted to take care of him while I am occupied by my duties... like deciding people's fates in the throne room. I glance at Shade's throne right next to mine and sigh upon finding it empty. Seria isn't the only one who dislikes hard working fathers.

  I wonder why Chloe refuses to take care of Seria? She only helps when she has Tisha's assistance.

  “I know, Mom. But Dad simply ran off instead of allowing me to watch him work,” Seria answers in a dejected tone and glares at the empty throne.

  “You know very well that he is investigating the pathways up close to the mana storm. It's dangerous and anyone who ventures so close to a storm should be able to get out on a moment's notice. Your body is still weak and Shade doesn't want anything to happen to you. He will be back in the evening,” I explain in a motherly voice. Which doesn't mean that Seria would take such advice.

  “Sorry-”

  “Oh, I know! How about joining me in the kitchen after we are done here? We could try together to replicate something like chocolate. Shade will topple over when we surprise him with a good imitation. And you could learn a little more about my magic,” I offer joyfully. And chocolate would be perfect for some blackmail. Shade never mentions it by now, but I am sure that a single bite is enough to get him addicted again.

  “Sorry-”

  Seria draws a deep breath and nods. “I suppose that's as good as anything else to kill some time. Though I suppose you can't teach me anything new?”

  “Sorry-”

  I cuddle her closer to me. “Sure! We will start with the complicated stuff and work our way downwards. Have I already taught you hearth magic? The first step would be to claim your own kitchen-”

  “Stop it!” The man who is kneeling in front of us screams at the top of his lungs. He was brought in by Aswang and some of his police officers. When we created our new society it was clear that we need a professional military and security force. Aswang and Manti stepped up right away to take the job.

  “I can't take the bickering any more! Is this really supposed to be something like a royal court? Just tell me my sentence and be done with it! I listened to your idle talk for over ten minutes, and the longer I am here, the more it sounds like this place is just a day-crib...” The man continues to spurt insulting lines, forcing me to take notice
of him. He is bound by crystal handcuffs which force his hands to the sides of his neck.

  “To be honest, Shade and I thought about calling this the 'Court of Souls'... you know... because all of us are really old souls and we will decide over the fate of others?” Seeking help, I turn my attention towards Aswang and point at the man. “Why is this individual here?”

  The man's eyes widen. “You don't even know who I am? I am the clan leader of Zarant, the mighty Galhard! We shook hands when my people joined you!”

  I sigh. “I am sorry, but we assimilated so many clans that remembering all the clan heads becomes really troublesome. And to be honest, the whole clan-thing is kind of outdated. Did you really expect to keep any kind of authority after joining our society? If you want to be someone, you have to work hard to earn your place.”

  I blink and look back towards Aswang. He still didn't answer me.

  “He was searching for supporters and talked to a lot of our higher immortals, promising them benefits and luxury. It sounded like he was trying to undermine your power. When we investigated where his funds came from, we found out that he used a lot of his former clan members for forced labour. Many of them were too intimidated to talk to us. They thought that everything happened with our knowledge. Luckily it was almost impossible for Galhard to keep them away from the other civilians, so we gathered a lot of dirt on him.”

  Aswang gestures at the shackled man. “Since he is a higher immortal and misused his power, I brought him to you. It is quite clear that his actions resulted in a few unnecessary deaths. His forced labourers weren't treated well, I think further details aren't really necessary. Your new laws are quite clear on the point, but he insisted on his right to talk to you.”

  “Yes! There is no point in any of this. I didn't do anything outside my rights. All I did was maximizing the profit. I didn't use any slave collars, so calling it forced labour is really far fetched!” The man wriggles against his shackles.