Soul Census - War of Shadows - Book 1

Chapter 7.2 - Contract Renewal

Earth Date: 16th of August 1939 CE
Location: Spirit Council Chambers, Elysium

Maddock watched the expanse of the Spirit Realm compress and wink out. For a brief instant, time and space seemed to stop, and then in a flash it returned, except he was somewhere else now. He stood on a piece of land in the center of a vast ocean of hexagonal-shaped islands. Each island’s surface appeared to be made of stone.

The water itself was perfectly still, without waves or splashing. Underneath its static serenity, tiny critters swam. At first he thought they were fish, but he saw no eyes or gills—just dark-blue skin that changed white when they nibbled at his little island.

The island was just big enough for him to stand on. Roman-style columns stood on some of others, reaching up into a sky made of crystal. He gazed at what looked like one of many suns, each a precious stone—rubies, emeralds, sapphires.

Maddock dropped his gaze to the immediate surroundings. The island in front of him was home to a white stone structure with Roman columns and statues. Within the open structure stood various souls crowded around a long, crescent-shaped table. The table itself glowed with the light of stars and galaxies within it.

Standing off to the side was the angel who had brought him here, Freya. She beckoned him forward. Maddock looked down and noticed for the first time that he now had human legs and feet. Looking ahead, he saw a trail of small hexagonal islands that would lead him to the structure.

He hopped off his island and onto the next, half expecting to teeter over and fall into the still water. Fortunately gravity did not seem to work that way here, and he made it to the structure without embarrassing himself. He did notice that the tiny school of fish followed him with each island he traversed.

As he stepped up onto the structure, he counted eight souls hovering over the table. Their faces were humanlike and distinctive. Some male, some female. All wearing white robes with golden sashes. He noticed their cores shined a light purple, but none of them had wings or a halo.

Freya stepped away from the group and gave him a nod. “Welcome to Elysium, home of the Spirit Council,” she said.

“Or what’s left of it,” he heard one of them say.

Maddock walked up to the table to see what all the hubbub was about. Within the table’s surface, he saw a dark circle with something bright in the middle. Upon closer inspection, he realized the brightness was a spirit.

It looked male, his limbs chained to a post. He had one wing visible and flowing white robes, which were torn and tattered. The angel looked like it had been through a war. The post he was chained to sat in the middle of a black river. It looked just like the black goo that Wolfe had dunked Maddock in for his baptism back in the Soul Sphere.

“Who is he?” Maddock said.

The heads around the table all turned to him with odd expressions.

“How can he not know who he is?” one of them said.

“Patience, my Guides,” Freya said. “The Fugue still clouds his memory.”

The one who had spoken whirled toward Freya. “How is he expected to unlock the gates of Tartarus, then?” he said.

“It was a bad idea to rush his entry,” one of them muttered. “Now all may be lost.”

“Please be calm,” Freya said. “There remains hope.”

“Hope?” one said. “The Elders are all gone, Aaru has been overrun by the demons of Tartarus, and Nariphil, the eldest of Elders, is in chains.”

And so the gum-bumping began. Freya and the other Guides went back and forth. Something about a war with the demons from Tartarus, someone called the Oppressor, the Spirit Realm, and something called the Sacred Tree.

For Maddock, it was like hearing Wolfe and Black go at it again. Even in the afterlife, he was in the dark as to what the argument was about.

Finally, he snapped his fingers to get their attention. They stopped and turned to look at him.

“You need to send me back to Earth,” he said. “Alive.”

Freya shook her head. “We need you here. You need to open the gates of Tartarus so that we can rescue Nariphil.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” Maddock said. “And I have a mission to complete.”

“Perhaps it… it will come back to you,” Freya said. “Stay awhile. You will see—”

“His memory will not return,” one of the Guides said. “The Fugue they imparted to him is soul deep.”

“But how can that be?” Freya said.

“It was decided by the Elders,” the Guide said.

Freya’s energy sputtered all weird. Maddock guessed she was not happy.

“We may as well send him back as he requests,” the Guide said. “Perhaps he can do some good there whilst we regroup our forces here.”

“No,” Freya said. “He is the only one who can open the gates.”

“As much as we love Nariphil,” one of the Guides said, “he is but one. Opening the gates to Tartarus may well be what the Oppressor wants, so that he can march his forces through. Nariphil would not have allowed this.”

“Oh, come now,” Freya said. “Their numbers are few in comparison to ours. There is nothing to fear.”

“I agree with Honir,” another said. “But we must have consensus. All who are in agreement?”

“Aye!” the others each proclaimed.

“No, Honir,” Freya said. “If we send him back, Nariphil is doomed.”

“I am sorry,” Honir said. “The decision has been made. Now we must work on how to return him to his body before the moment of death.”

“But that’s just as perilous—” Freya began.

“Take me back,” Maddock cut in. “Take me back so I can finish my mission.”

One of the other Guides—the one who seemed to have the brightest core—stepped in front of Maddock. He raised his arms in the air and clapped them together.

“Done!” he proclaimed.

Maddock felt a sudden lethargy. His ethereal body lost its form and he spilled to the ground. Everything faded. The last thing he could see was Freya’s face, a scowl seething from it.