§Soul-Bringer§ *Updated 12/23/09* (Comments and critism are very welcome)

This was inspired by my evil twin, and I must give her credit for this. We've been through too much to be separated now. And even though she kills me more every day, I don't think I could live without her. Well... obviously. (I apologize for the length! But before you decide that is too long of a story to read, at least attempt it. At least tell me what you think of this so far, believe me, the other chapters are probably going to be much shorter!)


If you have picked up this book, or are just reading it off of some source, I can assume some things about you. You probably picked this up because it looked good on the shelf, or a friend suggested it to you, or maybe you’re being forced to read this. I’m also going to guess you’re a young adult; teenager, tween, something like that. But maybe you’re an adult, or younger than that. How should I know? But there are two things I can tell you I certainly know. And there are two things that everyone reading this have in common. One, you are most certainly human. I only let this out for human eyes, so solely human eyes shall recognize this. The second is that you have one single soul, without damage or having any hints of torn material anywhere.
Immediately, you assume I am not human by saying such. I know that for a fact. However it may seem though, I am just as human as you are. Well… almost. I was born among Homo sapiens, and I remain one, you can just say I’ve been… altered a slight. If you saw me, I’d look like an average human to you, nothing strange or unfitting; just an average girl with a long temper and a shy character. I always look like I’m lost in my own imagination, or within the pages of a book. I’m not the only out there of that kind. The aspect that separates me from you is something you cannot see. This is where that second comes in. Every human being has a soul; therefore, as do I. But you have your whole soul inside of you, in this chamber of your body that is behind the heart, and goes upwards towards your head. Your soul is peaceful, and needs no solace, for it prefers its habitat. It’s also naïve. But, don’t take that as a bad thing, either; you most certainly want it that way. I, dare I say such, only possess half of mine. Only half of it lives within me.
The other half roams as it pleases. You see, once in a while, one soul, is not happy in its chamber, and becomes corrupt. It becomes so corrupt, that it starts to tear, and if it has the strength, and the will, it tears in half completely. This is where the majority of the souls fall. You see, unless the piece of soul that has been torn away finds a body for itself, it vanishes into the air, disappearing into nothing. And the other half crumbles, because it is not a whole, and so does the body it inhabits. Those poor unfortunate souls are forgotten by the realms pitifully.
But there are a select few who end up lucky, so to speak, though I know now that it would have been for the better to let my soul crumble. There is an organization, specifically set up for these particular situations. They know how to stop the soul from being destroyed. They also choose who deserves such treatment. It started long ago, before my time, by a man whose soul simply tore. Quickly, out of trial and error, he found a method to preserve his soul before it crumbled. With that knowledge, he wished to help those unfortunate forsaken souls who had met a fate worse than his. Only later did he realize the consequences. Whether he regrets such actions or not, is out of my reach of knowledge, but if he thinks as I do, his heart is farthest in the pit of despair.
And he still lives now. He remains the leader of this organization. Something that comes with repairing of a soul is stuck immortality. It hasn’t been explained, it just happens. Your soul has something to do with how you grow. You just stop after the process is done; for you and the other half. And that isn’t the only catch. It’s with this particular group, and these catches, is how our story begins. A dreadful dreary night… oh say… six-hundred forty years ago:

Soul-Bringer

The rain pattered against the window-sill with the force of muskets, the thunder-clouds like cannons. From the outside view looking in, it blurred the face of the person looking out, and the view was blurred for the person looking out as well. Her gray eyes scanned the frame mournfully. She didn’t like rain so much. It prevented her from leaving the house. It was not the matter of the filth rain brought bothered her, it was her father. Her father, a Count of a High Court, thought a young lady was to be better off inside, then getting her garments filled with dirt and muck. He didn’t want his daughter looking like a peasant. But she hadn’t cared. Her sigh echoed off every corner and back into her ears as she turned back and sat down onto her cot. Then came a knock upon her door. “’M’lady?” the door blocked some of the sound, so she didn’t hear it at first. After hesitation, she looked towards the entryway. “Proceed.” With the granted permission, the maid entered, she had a full figure, red-brown hair and rosy cheeks. After she turned to close the door behind her, she stepped to the girl’s side and sat beside her. “Something troubling you, m’lady? You look awful sickly.” Her hand met the girl’s forehead, and the girl pushed it away. “I’m fine, Adèle. My spirits are low, nothing more.” She rose to her feet and retired to the window-sill once more. Adèle persistently walked behind her and when she halted ran her fingers through her hair. She had always loved the young mistress’ hair, so fine and dark, compared to the ruddy mess she owned. “Ah, but that is something to be concerned over.” she said soothingly. “Your father wants what’s best for you, Emily. He wishes for you to remain at a higher rank with properness.”
“And if I don’t want to be proper?” the girl interrupted. “And if I don’t want the position? What if that?” Adèle’s words ceased. She did not know what to say. Many girls her age would line up before their own grave to be at the rank she was, and she was treating it like it was as important as a fleck of dust in a dark corner. “You need to accept who you are, m’lady. You cannot just give something up that is yours alone. This rank belongs solely to you, don’t discriminate your father’s work.” Emily turned once again away from her and into another corner distressfully.”I am simply Emily, daughter of Count Charles Louis. I have no high rank.” The poor maiden merely shook her head, convinced she could say no more to alter the girl’s thoughts. “Whatever you wish, m’lady. But I do suggest you retire to your bed.” Adèle turned to spread the sheets and fluff the pillows. “At least consider that your father cares for you.” Her final response was a sharp exhale, but Emily followed the order of getting to bed. Her arms were crossed, as well as her countenance. ‘Goodnight, m’lady’, were words the girl barely heard in her anger and short temper, next to the shut of the door. Father can fuss all he wants about me. He’ll do nothing to make me truly happy.
Adèle sighed and made her way down the stair-well with loud thuds. She lowered her head and folded her hands as she entered the poorly lit room. The hearth was aglow by the luminous flame that lived within, and this light reflected off the old master’s face. His eyes were calm and patient, which matched his personality quite well. At the top of his head you could see the gray fading from the dark brown it had once been. “M-m’lord?” Adèle hated to destroy such a peaceful picture. Charles’ eyes flickered from the fire to the maiden. A warm smile broke from his face. “Why hello, Adèle. Care to join me by the fire?” he offered, his voice was soft, but it was full with meaning. Adèle nodded curtly and courteously and sat in a nearby chair with caution. His eyes returned to the fire, which now served as the fire’s mirrors. “Now, what have you come to tell me? Emily bothering you again?” Adèle swallowed. Her master was most certainly kind beyond possibility, but he was also wiser beyond his years. “N-not bothering me, sir.” She said gruffly. A short silence erupted, and Adèle thought it was hers to break. “I’m just… worried, sir. She… hasn’t been quite herself lately. I think she may be sick. But I wasn’t able to tell, she kept moving away from me.” Charles Louis, Count of a High Court, rose to his feet. “Then it is certainly a matter I must attend to.” The conversation and his presence ended with the fading sound of his footsteps going up the stairwell. Adèle sighed. Nothing can remain the same, can it? For an extended time, the maid sat alone by the hearth, feeling lonely and guilty, though she knew she shouldn’t.
It was not long before her master came down the stairwell again, but his step was not as light and calm as it had been before.”Adèle,” his voice seemed much tenser now. “How close is the nearest curer?” The maid rose to her feet, already having an idea in mind. “I’ll send my brother for him. Hopefully, this weather won’t stop him.” When she reached the doorway she halted. “How bad do you think this is, m’lord?” The count was hesitant to answering her at first. “She seems a little delirious, and feverish. The one thing that’s keeping me from suspecting tuberculosis is that she hasn’t coughed up blood yet.” His back was turned, and his voice low. He said no more until Adèle had left the room. “Everything may change. My instincts are compelled to think this.”

******

At three minutes to midnight, the main entrance door opened, and a large gust of wind pushed the figure in. Charles assumed it was the curer. Following behind the figure, was Adèle’s brother, who shall remain nameless in this situation, and shall simply be known as a loyal servant to the Count. “My apologies about the late hour, sir.” The Count said before the curer had a chance to speak. “Oh, it bothers me none. I was in no deep sleep either. In fact, I was wide awake. This gives me something to do.” The voice was sort of cold and dark, but the Count assumed it was only by the night hours. He strung his coat onto a hook in the large hall and walked immediately for the stairs. “Doctor,” the Count started. “No. I wish for you not to call me doctor. I insist you use my real name.” the man, who insisted not to be called doctor headed halfway up the stairs. He had a lean physique, and a young face, but his eyes had looked like they had seen centuries. His hair matched the color of dry hay in the barn, although it resembled it no more otherwise, it reached his shoulders and was tied back with a piece of twine. He didn’t seem a fairly wealthy man, but he certainly was not one of the poor folk. When he first came in he was clad in a long, but dull, green coat, with ruffled cuffs and faded leather buttons. Now he just wore a gray shirt that resembled what an average sailor would wear.
Just as Charles Louis opened his mouth to tell him he knew not of his name, he spoke again. “You may call me Alias, as if you were a peer; or Asigen, my surname. Either way, I won’t be insulted.” Of course, he despised his own name as it was, but it wasn’t for him to change, and he told this not to the despairing count. His head turned away and he ventured further up the stairs and down the upper hall. “I’m assuming the girl’s in the last room, or is that a false statement?” Alias’ figure disappeared behind a wall. “On the left, Mr. Asigen.” The count’s voice bellowed with melancholy.
Alias let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Good Lord, is there a candle here anywhere? With his hand he waved some cobwebs that had fallen upon his face. His hand ran against the wall to feel for a candle, and kept running until it hit some sort of holder. From his pocket he took a match and lit a flame. Through the now bright light he saw every old corner of the great hall. Cobwebs were here and there and the paint was fading. But the bachelor had to admit, this was nothing of flotsam. His hand reached for the last doorknob on the left and he twisted it gently. His breath ceased the flame and with care, he pushed the door open. It was a dimly lit room, though lighter than the hall had been. Obviously the first thing that came to his attention was the girl with a haggard countenance and a ragged breath. Her once piercing eyes were now sunken and sullen by sickness. And at times she attempted to cry out, but it only came as a weak, soft moan.
This was the only reason he had come. He hated to say it to this girl’s father, but he was no doctor. At least, not of the sort the Charles Louis could think of. The only things he had in the large bag that hung limply at his side were an empty jar, a black cloak, a vial containing a shiny liquid and an Athamè. “What do you want?” a raspy voice came that startled Alias. It only took him moments that the voice belonged to the girl. He smirked and approached the girl. “I’m here to cure you.”
“I don’t need curing!” her voice shouted with rage, followed by a horrid cough. “I ain’t sick!” The gray-green gaze fell sympathetically upon her deathly face. “Of course not.” Emily narrowed her eyes with a loathing and tossed the sheets over her head before turning stubbornly away from him. The figure’s next move was to sit at the edge of her bed. “I at least wish to hear how you are feeling, or what you feel like. I’ll accept anything, as long as it’s nothing similar to fine, good, or well.” He grinned charmingly. The covers groaned again, and showed all reluctance from replying to his request. The fire at the corner flickered and fluttered silently and cast shadows all throughout the room. Alias was willing to wait as long as possible. Finally she decided to answer, “I… I feel like I’m fighting… fighting something inside of me… something that will tear at my innards until I set it free. But I don’t know how to.”
And with that she broke into a soft sob. Exactly what I wanted to hear. “Thank you dear.” His hand slowly pulled the covers from her face. It hadn’t changed much, the hatred was still clearly there, but now many stains from tears were visible. This poor unfortunate soul… “J-j-just go! I know I’m dying; I don’t need a doctor to tell me that! There’s nothing anyone can do no more! I’ve sinned and now God is punishing me for it!” The gesture she gave violently tried to hit him in the face, but he swung back in a moment’s time. He was going to respect her wishes. In a few more moments, he nodded curtly with his courtesy for her wish and left the room. His long fingers wrapped around the archway and pulled himself from the room and into the long gloom they called a hall once more. The Count can believe tuberculosis for now. It shall fit. The grin he owned was now hidden and covered by a grim countenance that he had always saved for times like this.

Wow.Pwn dude...

Yay! A story where Aemilia fits!!!

I need to write a story about Akinad, one day.. but.. she needs a better name. XD
And doesn't it just fell weird, to write about yourself.. in third person? I talk about myself in thrid person sometimes.. for the heck of it. XD

That's amazing, WCL! I really like this, and the stuff about spirits is really believable, too! ^^ You write awesomely.

Awesome. More?

Woah, I was gonna read this last night but it was way long and I was tired and did not have the attention span to read the whole thing. But having just read this I will say it was spectacular, a very descriptive and emotional story to say the least. (Now reread that and imagine me saying it with a British accent xD)

Will your evil twin get to meet mine, in this story? XDD

That was awesome, WCL. :3

very epic...and cool

Exquisite!
God, I use that word way too much... I'd better cut back. Lol..
You are really well-informed, brainy and bright about this kind of stuff...
No wonder Mia Fire worships, you...

I don't worship her. >_>
We are called best online friends. NOT WORSHIPERS.

XD

Amazing just amazing, I see a great writing career in you're future!

(This chapter is kind of short, for my writing anyway. Sorry I haven't updated earlier!! But now that I'm on break, I'll have plenty of time for this!! YAY!! )

At first glimpse, it was just a cave; a dark eerie quarry chiseled into the side of a crag, far from any used roads, and close to the sea. It looked like the opening of a ghoul’s mouth, welcoming you in with large teeth. It had long been forgotten to the average population for that reason. Many ghost stories were told, and many dares were made, but nothing of serious business ever went in. Every soul that had dared to venture onwards was never seen by the living again, or the dead for that matter. True, it was a cave, but it wasn’t solely a cave. The further inwards you went, the darker it became, for hours and hours, which seemed longer than years. On all sides shards and sharp rocks stuck out awkwardly from the wall, the ceiling, and the floor, if there wasn’t a big gaping hole camouflaging in with the walls. A bitter cold lingered at eye level, and misty voices at the same temperature swirled from nowhere into your ears. Most never make it past this part of the journey. Most.
No average human anyway, has made it further. Subsequent to these conditions and long hours, you’d find that the temperature had risen a considerable amount, to the condition of a tropical rainforest. And light had returned, though it wasn’t the soothing light that you’d find in the middle of the spring season. It was a dull light, the lamination of a final sunset, the day prelude to a bloody battle, or after a bloody battle. Ancient stone steps, like the Mayan kind, abruptly climbed at your feet, higher than mankind would think possible, and into what seemed to be an ancient temple-like structure. To be honest with you, the climb wasn’t very long at all, even though the steps seemed to go on forever. Time was never something to consider here. The temple was a short thing to go through too, and at the end you’d find yourself in a blazing desert, with endless miles of sand, whipping into your eyes and face. This part was even longer than the seemingly long cave. Most immortals never make it past that part. Most.
That wasn’t caused by the lack of water in the area (for there was none at all, and that had been done purposely), though. It was because they had gone mad with their own mirages, tearing themselves to shreds for no apparent reason, (to someone with a sane mind). And if you didn’t have the slightest clue what you were looking for, you’d be lost, for pretty much eternity. But if you did, you’d go right through, to the final stage. It was the final tunnel you go through, the final tunnel you’d ever go through. While you went through it, your whole life would flood back into your sight, like a home video and many neon beams of light slithered around at your feet. As you entered the final part, you’d feel all your senses pulse through you, and then disappear, into the unknown. Your last sight was a large room, made like a cave of ice, tall and cold. And a pair of eyes, deep, dark and frost-like bore into you like a pair of sharp daggers, stabbed into you again and again. The last sound was the snap of your own neck and the last feel was your body hitting the floor. None ever made it further. None.
The cloaked figure seated upon a throne, the ultimate throne of lies, death and evil, looked down upon the latest victim, his countenance unreadable. Then he looked to the two figures, almost unnoticeable that stood like shadows aligning the doorway. Clad in black, but faces paler than the moonlight, their heads hung down like vultures and their eyes were closed, with respect. “Well done, not that you don’t always.” His voice bellowed darkly. “We try to do our best, sire.” The first one replied, his voice sounding like a thousand echoes off a cavernous abyss. The second one lowered down and examined the victim, then hissed in pure disgust. “This one’s one of the Shade Dweller folk.” His voice was almost identical to the other one, but his voice was slightly higher pitched, like ice. “The Umbra Habito… they haven’t tried to send one for ages. Long ages.” The first one replied to his kin. The second one looked up and showed his sharp teeth and gleaming fangs. “This one wasn’t sent.” He spat. He looked down at the victim, like a wolf that had been hungry for weeks would look upon a small morsel of food. “This one came on its own terms. How peculiar.” He finished tartly. The one seated drummed his fingers on a glass orb, which was the top of a thin, but sturdy staff that looked like it had been made in the underworld. “It has me wary.”
The first one glanced back up at his master. “Why so, Your Highness? This is not the first time someone has made it this far. We’ve dealt with every one of them.” He said in a way, as to refresh one’s memory. “That’s exactly what has me worried.” He rose to his feet; his fingers still wrapped around the glass ball and he walked several steps lower. “The numbers are rising. More of their kind are venturing this far. Sent or not, they’re all proving one thing to me.” He paused and looked coldly upon his guards. Their blood-red gazes both fixed on him and his tall figure coming closer to them, their jet black hair didn’t gleam in the dull light that still remained in the dwelling, qualities no other kind had. “Which would be?” the second one prompted icily. “That they’re growing stronger. Less and less is beginning to stop them. At a point, eons ago, no one could make it past the first section, then it gradually made it to the third, and now days they make it to my realm itself.”
A glance was exchanged between the two guards. What passed through it could be easily read by their master, but he brought it to no importance. “I do not doubt your abilities. You have always been some of my greater acquirements. Ones I dare not give up. Especially not in times like this.”
“What do you propose to do, Your Highness?” the first one asked warily. “Certainly you have something on mind?” A shadow swiftly passed over their heads and landed in between them. The second one stepped on it and it writhed and reached under it. It screeched quietly and pitifully, then died altogether and vanished in a cloud of sparkling dust. “Yes.” The ruler said, going deep into thought. “I do.” His foot kicked the corpse’s fallen head and it jerked backwards. “Which I shall intend to tell you in a later time.” He smiled maliciously down at the carcass. His grin wasn’t the only thing broadening though. “It’s all yours, boys. I’ve seen you looking at it. I don’t need it.” The two guards flashed a gaze at each other, grinning darkly and ravenously. Their fingers were already digging into an upper arm, one for each. “We thank your gracious acts, sire.” The second one replied to the ruler, but his eyes were all for the prey. “Most certainly.” The first one agreed. “Just leave my presence while you do so. I hate to clean up after you two.” He let his back face them, and he closed his eyes proudly.
“Of course.” The second one bowed his head. “Though we probably wouldn’t leave much anyway.” The first one chuckled, a chuckle of dark intention. With a quick gesture, he sent them off. “Then go now. And be quick about it.” The two guards nodded curtly, and said no more. They dragged the corpse away with them, tugging it two different ways selfishly. The evil ruler stood there for a little time, for the sound of the first torn limb. After that he grinned darkly, and gradually made his way back to his throne as he heard more tearing, hissing, snarling and crunching. He folded his hands behind his back, and his step fell into a slow pulse. Just as he reached the large steps, a black marble-like structure, he heard the loudest hisses and snarls, and even now the final roars. The shadows swirled in his mind like mist now, building up an image almost too great for him to bear. He liked it that way. He could recognize the first one’s eerie screech now. And all came into place for him; the image loomed nearly hauntingly behind his eyes. In less than a second’s time, the great ruler’s eyes flashed open; glowing an icy turquoise like lanterns in the dark as the two guard’s screeches chorused through the chamber.

awesome!

Ooo! Sweet job!

Lol, Umbra Habito means what? xD Those who live in shadows or something?

(Wow, little people are running around inside clones of me! )

Umbra Habito is Shade Dwellers in Latin. So yes, 'those who live in shadows' is correct too.

XD Lolz, shadow. Hope they're not bothering you!!! XD

Holy crap. o.0 Dwellers was actually in my head . . . I was like, "Shadow Dwellers? Naw, that sounds too much like Komoda's Dwellers on RMBSHVW. xP It can't be right." Wow. Lol, anywho, woot! xD I was right. Ish. I like knowing Latin!

I hope not!