Guiding Souls

Vince walked the streets lighted. Tipharet's descendants had different expressions than he was used to see; their faces were hardened, their eyes sharp and cold.

Some people stood in front of corpses; their faces, though desolate, allowed no room for tears. This reminded Vince that they were people with high life expectancies, hardened by the losses they had experienced over a hundred years.

He passed by a woman looking at a man lying down, parts that evidenced the combat-related injuries were covered.

"You left me alone, Cezet; when we get together again, I won't leave you in peche." Her expression was one of pure sadness, yet the tears wouldn't come out.

Vince felt empathy for these people; he felt terrible when his first companions were gone. When it happened again for the second and third time, something inside him had changed.

'Is killing or dying all that's left?' he sighed.

"Go rest; I'll get things ready," Zeldan said as he became a ray of shadows and disappeared towards the castle towers.

Vince said goodbye to the group and looked one last time at the scene of the fallen bodies.

With firm steps and sharp eyes, he then made his way to his room.

/////////////////////////////////

The light illuminated a makeshift bed, his white sheets with patchwork. Vince was standing with his eyes closed as he held a blue blade.

He knew the basics of sword handling; learning was mandatory in the army.

Now, however, it was different; something that had been etched deeply for a long time in the depths of his mind and soul was now visible.

The blade moved slowly in a gentle arc, and though it was slow, the trail of light it left was visible to anyone.

Vince then opened his eyes. Red lines lined up with a stream of mana that permeated the entire room.

He simply knew what to do; he did it thousands of times. That man did, and the blood and sweat were etched in the hope that the next generation would surpass him.

He held the long sword with both hands and cut forward; it was an almost primal instinct.

Although the blade was reasonably far from the wall, a thin line opened over the red blocks.

"That's scary" Vince looked at the cut that appeared seemingly without the slightest touch of the sword.

"And that's even more." He looked at how much the red wall regenerated; it was like flesh reconnecting.

Vince then simply let go of the sword; however, instead of falling to the ground, it simply floated around him.

"It's weird that I know you're happy now; after all, how can a sword have feelings?"

The sword then vibrated slightly.

"No need to be upset; I have nothing against it; it's actually pretty cool," he apologized.

The sword then flashed faintly.

"Do you think you can avoid cutting things when I say it's not necessary? It would be a problem to never be able to put you in a sheath or for someone to lightly touch you unintentionally."

He looked at the desk and the bed with a clean cut on their surfaces.

The sword was sharp, sharp to the extreme; he just put it lightly on them, and the blade cut them like butter.

The blade then swung a few times in the air as it glowed. "Then you can; it makes things easier," he said in relief.

He then picked up the blade again and wished it wouldn't cut; slowly approaching the wooden table cut in half, he then confirmed that he really could also prevent her from simply cutting everything she touched.

"Good."

As he continued admiring the sword, knocks sounded on his door.

"I came to bring your clothes," Sila said.

"Clothes?"

"Yes, we all wore red during the procession," she said.

Vince picked up a simple red robe; a few silver patterns ran along its length. Sila wore the same robe, which matched her extremely well, accentuating the beauty of her face.

Vince simply dressed him over the light clothes he was wearing, saying quickly,

"Then let's go."

/////////////////////////////////

A crowd dressed in red closed a circle around a fire not yet lit, and several corpses peacefully dressed in white clothes hovered peacefully over the wooden beams.

'It's very similar to Perleona's funeral customs, except for the color of the clothes; if I didn't know them, I'd think it was a kind of ritual...'

Zeldan then stood in front of the logs. He stared at her for a few minutes, the crowd daring not break the silence.

He then opened his mouth slowly and said, "Children of the red mother, warriors born of immortal blood, today the blood you shed in your life will pave your way to the next, reincarnation, to offer you a new beginning, a better life."

Their eyes closed, and when they opened again, a red light shone furiously. "Or is that what I would like to say, but everyone here knows that souls find no rest in this place, so I ask you, fallen warriors, would you give me the honor of receiving your souls until the sunlight can shine again upon you?"

He then pulled a small bracelet out of his pockets. It was mostly white; only a few red accents stained its surface.

The bracelet then floated slightly over Zeldan's hands, and some white auras began to come out of the bodies and head towards the bracelet.

Souls weren't scary as Vince thought in his ignorant days.

Different from what he thought was a very beautiful vision, it looked like a small number of fireflies migrating.

All the little balls of light joined the bracelet, which glowed slightly before it went out.

Zeldan then shook his hands. The flames consumed the bodies fed by the wood; perhaps because they were magical flames, they quickly disintegrated, with not even the bones left.

"My grandchildren, my children, and my brothers, I assure you that the blood you have shed will be equally with blood that our enemy will also spill, and will be used to pave our way towards the outer world."

He then looked at the crowd. "Let us celebrate today as we honor the good memories of the deceaseds."

After a few seconds of silence, Zeldan shook his hands. Shadowy shapes quickly appeared and disappeared from the ground, replaced by a large number of barrels.

The people hesitated for a moment, but after Hela approached and filled her glass with wine, everyone followed.

The heavy feeling that permeated the space soon disappeared, giving way to heated conversations and laughter.

Vince found himself distant from the people; he was standing over an emptier and less illuminated place, an empty glass in his hands.

He looked at the small crowd that amused themselves under the black sky, the bright lights illuminating them as some danced, their red robes creating a picturesque image.

He felt out of place, and homesick began to surface again in his heart.

"How are they?" He grumbled as he stared at the vastness of the black sky.

But then a soft voice came to his ears.

"What are you doing there? Come fast and fill your glass; today we have wine! Oh, how I dreamed of drinking that."

Sila had a happy smile on her face. Vince thought she was very beautiful, but today that smile really have something else that attracted him.

Bernard and Bertrand waved at him, Herman turning his head slightly toward him as he seemed to tune something resembling a mandolin.

Vince hesitated for a moment, but then his steps became light, and he then walked towards a brighter place.