Soul Struggles

Karyan felt a knot form in his stomach. 

He had traveled so far, and now, the very reason for their journey had slipped through his fingers. 

The disappointment was visible, but he knew he couldn't let it consume him. There had to be another way to find the answers he sought.

Sera sensed his frustration and wound her way up his arm to rest on his shoulder, her head close to his. "What now, Karyan?" she asked.

He looked around at the crowd, now dispersing with a collective sigh of disappointment. "We wait," he said firmly. "We'll stay in Mirrormere. She'll dance again, and we'll be here to see it."

They turned from the pavilion, seeking a place to spend the night. 

The city was warm, and the bustle seemed removed from the quiet peace of the road they had traveled. 

Karyan felt the urge to be away from the noise, the eyes, and the whispers. 

He remembered the hill they had seen on their approach, a gentle rise that overlooked Mirrormere.

"Let's find some solace on that hill," Karyan suggested, pointing towards it. "We need rest, and the city's warmth should keep us through the night."

Sera nodded, and they made their way through the streets, moving against the flow of the crowd until the noise of the city faded into a distant hum. 

The climb up the hill was short, and soon they stood at the crest, gazing down upon Mirrormere with its twinkling lights.

"That's better," Karyan sighed, feeling the tension ebb away.

But before they could settle in, a voice broke the silence. "Please... I beg of you, end my suffering."

Karyan turned to find an old man, his face etched with the lines of time and sorrow.

"Who are you?" Karyan asked, his hand instinctively moving to the dagger at his belt.

"No one. Nothing," the man replied, his eyes wet with unshed tears. "I am alone, and I fear the demon that haunts my every step. I am tired... so very tired."

Karyan's hand fell from his weapon. "Why do you ask this of me?"

"Because you have the look of one who's seen darkness," the old man whispered. "And perhaps... has the strength to grant a final mercy."

Karyan hesitated, this request was weighing heavy on his heart. The thought of taking a life at such a plea, was not something he took lightly now.

"Why fear a demon now, at the end of your long life?" Karyan asked, seeking to understand.

The man's gaze drifted towards the city. "Because the demon is not of flesh, but of memory and regret. It is my own heart that torments me, and I can bear it no longer."

Karyan looked at Sera, seeking counsel. She flicked her tongue.

"Death is not the only release," she hissed. "There is peace in forgiveness, in acceptance."

Turning back to the man, Karyan spoke gently. "I can grant your request. But in return, don't haunt me later on."

The old man's eyes widened, "finally…" he opened his arms and closed his eyes.

As Karyan's grip tightened around the hilt of his dagger, he drew closer to the old man.

 His heart was heavy, unsure if he could fulfill such a grave request. But just as the blade neared the man's throat, a voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

"No, don't kill my prey!"

Karyan's hand froze, the dagger inches from the man's skin. 

He spun to see a tall figure emerging from the shadows. 

The newcomer was slim with an imposing height of 190 cm, his long straight blue hair falling over his shoulders, and dark red eyes that seemed to burn with an otherworldly fire.

The old man's eyes rolled in exasperation. "Oh, for the love of—kill me now, quick! Before this blue bastard drives me to madness!"

The blue-haired man's face twisted with anger. "I've been very patient, you old coot! Your soul is ripe, and I want it!"

Karyan stepped back, utterly bewildered by the situation unfolding before him. 

His dagger lowered as he watched the two bicker like market vendors haggling over the price of fish.

"But this blue fool has no self-respect!" the old man continued. "Day in, day out, 'Give me your soul, give me your soul!' It's relentless! I'm old, I'm tired, and I'd rather die than hear another word from his mouth!"

Karyan couldn't help but feel like he'd stumbled into some absurd play. "Wait, wait, wait," he interrupted, his voice confused. "Can someone please explain what is going on here?"

The blue-haired man, now revealed to be some sort of soul-hungry entity, sighed dramatically.

 "It's quite simple. I am a collector of souls, and this stubborn mule," he jabbed a finger at the old man, "refuses to surrender his to me. It's very rare to find such a... seasoned soul."

"And I'm telling you I'd rather have my throat slit than give in to your pathetic begging!" the old man shot back.

Karyan looked from one to the other, his expression deadpan. "So, let me get this straight. You," he pointed to the blue-haired man, "want his soul, and you," he turned to the old man, "just want to die because he's annoying you to death—literally."

"Exactly!" they both exclaimed in unison.

Karyan couldn't help but smirk at the absurdity. "You do realize how ridiculous this sounds, right?"

The old man shrugged. "I've lived a long and ridiculous life. This is just the cherry on top."

The blue-haired soul collector crossed his arms, huffing. "You humans are so... so..."

"Complicated?" Karyan offered.

"I was going to say exasperating, but sure, that too."

Karyan sheathed his dagger, shaking his head. "I'm not killing anyone today, especially not over a petty squabble."

The old man groaned. "You're just going to leave me with him? Have a heart, young man!"

Karyan turned to the soul collector. "And you—find someone else to harass. Isn't there some sort of soul-collector code of conduct you're violating?"

The blue-haired man shifted his gaze to Karyan, a sly grin spread across his face. "Well, since you're here, and you seem to be a man of... considerable talents, perhaps we could strike a deal for your soul instead?"

Karyan raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "You're kidding, right?"

"Oh, come on!" the blue-haired man pleaded, clasping his hands together and batting his dark red eyes comically. 

"I'm sure your soul is much more vibrant, full of adventure and heroics! Much more interesting than this grumpy old man's."

Sera immediately hissed at the blue-haired man, her tongue flicking out in disapproval. "Ss-ssilly man, Karyan's soul is not for sale!"

The old man chuckled, shaking his head. "Look at you, reduced to begging! You've got the audacity of a starving pigeon pecking at crumbs."

"You're not really good at this soul-collecting business, are you? Shouldn't you be more... I don't know, intimidating?"

The soul collector's cheeks flushed a shade of blue that matched his hair. "It's not usually this difficult," he muttered. "People are generally more agreeable—or at least respectful of the whole 'eternal soul' matter."

"Respectful?" Karyan snorted. "You're begging like a child asking for an extra scoop of ice cream."

The old man nodded in agreement. "And with less dignity. I've seen street performers with more self-respect."

The blue-haired man huffed, his shoulders slumping. "Fine, fine. It's clear I'm not getting anywhere with either of you. Must be a slow century for me."

Karyan patted him on the shoulder, the absurdity of consoling a soul collector not lost on him. "Maybe try being less desperate? It's not a good look for you."

"Maybe you should retire," the old man spoke.

The blue-haired man sighed, his shoulders drooping even more. "Perhaps I should. This is all too much work for one soul and I don't have much time here anymore…"

As the soul collector wandered and mumbled to himself about reconsidering his career choices, Karyan and the old man exchanged, "before you go, the blue guy…" Karyan glared at him, "answer me; are you a real demon?"