After a turn through the abattoir, Keeper offers a mortal a choice. Death or doll. Most mortals are not in much of a position to respond, but he is fairly liberal in interpreting their screams, cries, or stillness.
And then, he strips their soul and hands it off to Hel or Aosoth. You saw what happens after. They become those half mechanical monstrosities.
“S-so what?” Shalise took a deep breath. “You think that doll wanted to turn me into one of them?”
Another chill came from Prax’s section of her head. Maybe not. But she is sure to report to Keeper that two little mortals are running around without souls. The last time a mortal was in charge of her faculties enough to respond to him, that mortal became the sword wielder.
The small chill in the back of her mind expanded outwards, encompassing her entire body. “W-what do you mean? ‘Without s-souls?'”
As I said, I fail to comprehend how mortals can be so ignorant of their own being. Surely you have attempted some kind of magic and have found yourself lacking.
She actually hadn’t. Juliana had said it wasn’t working and Shalise had taken her word for it.
Pulling up the hand that held the ring Juliana had given her, Shalise tried to channel magic into it. The effect didn’t matter. A gust of wind, a spark, anything would prove him wrong.
Nothing happened. She couldn’t even feel her magic moving. It just fizzled out somewhere deep inside her.
Sweat started dripping down her back as she strained from the effort of casting.
No amount of concentration did anything.
“It-it’s not working.”
Of course not. You have no soul. I can feel it. I am inside you, after all.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Shalise said as a thought occurred to her. “It is a prison. Of course it wards against magic.”
I would know far better than you.
“You’re lying,” Shalise shouted. “L-liches can use magic. They don’t have s-souls.”
Prax didn’t laugh at that. He rolled his eyes. You are no lich, servant. Your education is woefully lacking. Fear not, in time I shall educate you.
Shalise slammed a fist into the ground. “I’m not your–what does it even mean? Am I going to d-die?”
Do not be foolish. So long as you reacquire it soon, the disparity should be kept to a minimum.
“What does that mean?”
Prax gave a mental shrug. You would have to ask Death, though I doubt He would share. Demons do not possess souls, though we have a similar concept.
Which brings me to my point. Upon being brought here, we are forced to touch a very specific crystal that strips our ‘soul’ until such time as we are to be released–should we ever be released. That crystal is the reason every demon ran into that fight.
Shalise slumped against the wall. “How does any of that help me?”
You are within this prison. Is it inconceivable that your soul is contained within that crystal? What harm could there be in touching it to be certain? Perhaps having her soul back will even assist your mortal friend in her recovery.
Shalise glanced down at the sleeping form of Juliana. She looked peaceful. Too peaceful. She placed her hand over Juliana’s open mouth to double-check that she was still breathing.
Everything seemed fine. Or the same as it had been for however long it had been.
“I don’t remember touching any crystals.”
