Phantom Chained

Chapter 40. Dead Soul. Elm

I have never crossed paths with anything like that and that's why I deemed it necessary to send the last of my scanners towards the source.

The scanners brought back two observations. The good one was that they located the dead soul and it was quite close. The other observation was of the 'Who the hell knows, but it would be better if it wasn't there' category; Right above the soul was a strange formation resembling a string, which pierced the entire astral plane and, judging from the data I received, contained an incredible amount of energy while having no mass whatsoever.

That was precisely what was causing the flaming vortex that flowed out into concentric waves of fire, which seemed to be the cause of the beauty's extremely high temperature despite the comatose state. But what exactly was it? And what does that soul have to do with it?

The scanners could not give me those answers.

The time had come for the final phase of my little expedition, and more precisely the 'diplomatic conversation with the necrobeing'. No more, no less; You have to convince deal souls to leave the bodies and the fact that they are dumb as a pile of bricks sure does help with the process. It's pointless and dangerous to force them, as once they are angry they start to vigorously pump the life force out of their host. This obviously never ends well. So the only methods should be peaceful and friendly.

While weathering the last few meters of that dull snowy expanse, I racked my brain thinking of a suitable conversation strategy. I confess I had next to no experience on that front. Just theoretical stuff. And boy was I nervous. My life depended on this so of course I was shaking in my metaphorical boots!

Besides, I have quite a disparaging view of them; they are stupid, boring, irritating and sensitive. Like every intelligent being that stopped evolving, they fall apart into a disorderly mess of basic programs that often conflict with each other. Not to mention that process often begins when the individual is still alive and is diagnosed as mentally unstable.

And It's really hard to have a normal conversation with a crazy person! Help me, Fortuna Mia!

I stopped at the edge of a perfect circle where the snow had melted. It wasn't large, around ten meters in diameter, and had a small campfire burning in the middle of it. The campfire itself looked pretty normal, with a bunch of hissing and cracking coals that gave off quite the heat.

The smoke rose up around the mysterious thread; the occasional flashes of white light ran up the string and during that time the sound seemingly intensified, sending shivers down my entire body. Another distressing detail was that the deal soul exuded the same tension as from a live wire. I did not have nearly enough strength to figure out how the two were connected but still decided to lead my conversation without letting my guard down.

If not for the tension, the soul would've been just like any other. It sat down by the campfire, its grey pants crossed and the worn knee-high boots almost touching the coals. The thin, similarly grey trench coat had burn marks and holes in some places, and from under it peaked a collar of a dirty white shirt. Its hands hung down from its knees, palms turned toward the fire and its head, donned in a beaver hat, drooped low against his chest.

The air smelled of ozone and, for some reason, old feathers.

I carefully took a step down onto the black soil scarcely covered in grass shoots. The difference between the ground and the snow was not significant but the broken leg creaked nonetheless.

The soul raised its face and stared at us with pitch-black holes of burned eyes.

The girl let out a quiet squeal.

The deadman was quite fresh. Judging from the fact that its face looked like a bloated raisin, it died less than a hundred and fifty years ago, but also more than a hundred as it lost most of its human features.

"Forgive me, good sir, I have not heard your approach." It said "I could not see you either, for as you can see I no longer have my eyesight. However, I am quite delighted that fate has sent me a guest. Come, sit by the fire, the weather here leaves much to be desired."

"I am grateful for your invitation." I replied, taken aback by the polite treatment. Meanwhile, it continued:

"Forgive my nosiness, I do not have the same restraint that I used to... Good sir, do you happen to be a psychopomp? My soul has been tormented by anticipation all these endless years of unjust misery. Please, answer me, do not dally. "

Despite his ardent words and twitchy body that showed great anxiety, the indifferent croaking of its voice gave it the appearance of a mechanical doll parodying human emotions.

"Psychopomp, soul conduit, that's who you need..." I dragged on, feverishly thinking of what to answer and where to lie. "Maybe I could be of help to you, but first, deceased one, please recount to me how you happened to enter a living body and how you would justify your prolonged and unlawful residence inside it?"

"Unlawful? Why, I have always been here lawfully..."The dead soul suddenly started coughing aggressively, twitching with its whole body. I could see waves running under its skin.

"Law-hhhee-fully! Hhack, abidinghhh by the law of bloodlineugh hagh! But my queghtion is, good siughh, is why do you hraugh, hhave a personal intehhh, interest in that?"

The soul's tone changed, became hoarse. It struggled to cough out words, dragging them out with prolonged rasping full of emotions.

'And there's its other layer' I thought. 'That's exactly what I need, why would I need the useless upper layer? The lower one holds all the power over possession so that's the one I need to manipulate.'

The corpse continued to hack and wheeze, swaying above the fire.

"Shhh-he is related to meughhh. It's hhheee good hegh hheeere, I feel alive hhhack heregh."

"Related, you say..." I started to piece things together.

"Bloughd relahhhhted" It whispered.

"So, my dear corpsie, what the hell are you doing to your blood relative?" I cut as harshly as possible. "You're leeching her life, soon you won't have anything to keep you warm."

"Do not heughhh!" It barked. "We hhhhave not yet drughhk the brüderschhhafht! Howghh dare you... I am not takihhher heat, I am givinghh away the heghh heat of my memories... I do not need anythhhingh, do nothhhh take anythheeghe! Look for yourghhhself, whhgghy am I tryingghh to justiffhy myself!

The soul took its hands away from the fire, which immediately shrunk into a tiny spot the size of a match tip.

The circle of black soil started to quickly shrink under the assault of the snowy mass that hungrily swallowed the grass, releasing sharp claws of cold that immediately jumped back when the renewed fire burned with new strength.

"Curious... Where is the heat coming from?"

"My memories, obvhhiously!" it mumbled grumpily. "I told you andhh you don't remembhegr! You don't happenhheh to be like me, do hegh you?"

I took offence to that.

As if he's the one to talk about forgetfulness! It's common knowledge that these souls have the memory of a goldfish. An endless flow of stroboscopic flashes, except instead of light its memories of tragedies and misfortunes that befell them in their human body. Over and over. Although, living people have it the same; they don't remember the happy moments and just can't seem to forget the bad ones. But this weirdo, who already started speaking simply, was quite different from the average corpse.

"Damn this destighhny," It lowered its head even further. "I don't want hhheeh to cause hhharm to my relative, but hhghhow else? Just lookhh at my fire; see? So small, baghreehhly hhhot enoughheh. We will get throughhhehh this togetghher, I love hhher like fahhhmily, I will just ghhide somewhhhehherre and nobody will know."

"And how can you prove that you're actually related?" I asked, careful to not set it over the edge. "Tell me your name."

A twitch danced across the soul's face. It stood up straight, proudly puffing its chest:

"Joergen Peter Lehtonen, at your service."