1. like a wall of stars, we are ripe to fall


The first awareness of my senses is catalysed by a rush of grapefruit.

I inhale the soothing smell and in turn a fresh clearance floods into my conscience. Where am I? What planet did I inhibit? I could indicate there were other presences in the room.

"Crystalline Glaciers," a calming voice murmurs from somewhere beside me, "Brightest sun, longest day." Ah, yes. A greeting from the Planet of the Flowers brought some familiarity. I must have arrived at my designated destination.

I attempt to move myself and instantly acknowledge the senses on this planet were far more acute. My body is much more complicated too, as if filled with wires and connections. I experiment with some of these joints and feel myself tightening, rising from my resting position.

My adjusting vision meets with a pristine expression, one which I had seen on many Healers. "Are you feeling well, Glaciers?"

I look at the Healer blankly in response. My existence at the Planet of the Flowers had made my demeanour nonchalant. "Swell," I reply easily, the knowledge from this new host flowing into me at a rapid rate.

The Healer seems appeased. "My name is Fords Deep Waters," he says calmly, "There has been a specific Calling for you in this world." He appears to falter for a moment after speaking such words, looking away from me, distracted. "You are to meet with the other Seekers. I will direct you there."

To be honest, I had little idea what he was talking about. The vocabulary used on this planet was still unfamiliar to me although I was exponentially growing known to it. I didn't know what he meant by Seekers—they weren't available on the other planets.

Soon I am guided to a room which smell of sharp antiseptic, filled with Souls who have their delegated hosts and dressed exactly the same as each other. All wear white clothing: an assemblage of a long-sleeved suit knitted together by buttons and tight pants. It takes me a mere second to realise I am dressed in a similar manner.

All the Souls additionally exhibit the identical, tactful expression, complete with a clipped tone as one of them speaks to me. "Welcome, Crystalline Glaciers," the one closest to me greets. This Soul is a male who has slick, blonde hair and frozen, green eyes. He stands astute, shoulders angled like blades. "I am a Seeker. The rest of the Souls you see here are also Seekers." They all nod instantaneously in response.

I smile in courtesy, though it feels all very strange to me. "If you do not mind me asking, what are Seekers? I have not came across such a Calling in the other planets."

The Seeker who had spoken to me seems to remember this only now. "Oh," he states, an amused but stiff edge to his own returning smile, "I had forgotten. This planet is quite different, Glaciers. As you would have known from your many experiences, most of the planets do not bear resistance to our colonisation. This is not the case here."

I don't respond, only politely wait for him to continue. He does, and begins pacing smoothly around the room. "You see, this particular planet is called Earth and is home to humans. They are unlike the Flowers you had last been a part of, with little emotional spectrum. Humans are—" He struggles to find an appropriate word here, "—wild."

"How peculiar," I comment lightly.

The Seeker's smile turns wry. "Some would say the humans are savage, in fact, which is why we have been designed. Seekers like us are intended to search for the last ounces of resistance on the planet Earth."

Something feels incomplete about that statement. "Search?"

The Seeker is hesitant for a heartbeat, but only a heartbeat. His eyes seem to become more frozen. "And terminate. Which is why we have assigned you as a Seeker as well. Due to your existence in the Planet of the Mist as one of your lives, we have the expectancy such a planet's similarity in species and landscape to Earth would only be beneficial."

I mull over that for a few seconds. Indeed, I had inhibited the Planet of the Mist, but that was only a fragment of my journey. I was originally born on the Origin, one of the few which had chosen to travel elsewhere. Apart from the Planet of the Mist and the Planet of the Flowers, I had also inhibited the Fire World, which made me more hardened than other Souls.

I can see the Seekers consider me more highly than they usually would due to being from the Origin. They would have performed an information sweep before I approached them as well, to make sure I was suitable. I keep a compliant expression. "Seems practical."

The Seekers all smile at me then, so pearly white and curled like the Cheshire Cat that for once in my long existence, I felt odd surrounded by other Souls. The Seeker which had led the discussion continues his role, suavely motioning to join him near the glass window which reveals the Earth in front of me.

"A Seeker is already a significant Calling," he declares with a more prominent importance in his tone this time, "But you have a more imperative role. You have been designated to find one of our own. One which has, kindly said, placed us in a compromised position."

Abruptly I realise the Healer, Fords Deep Waters, is still in the room. He is nearing the exit door, but his steps still. He looks back at us, a concerning flash in his eyes, like he knew what we were talking about. Quickly he looks away, yet does not move.

I resume my watch to the Seeker. "And who is this Soul?"

The Seeker grins, teeth sharp and fiendish. "Why, you will soon know her from the memories of your host. Wanderer."

At that very second, a sharp pain ripples through my chest that I had never felt before in all my existence. It was as if a knife had cut through my skin and tore through all my muscle. The sensation travels through my spine, an icy fire which electrocutes me.

No. NO!

Instantly I repel, the result showing physically. The Seeker raises his eyebrow in question and I smile uneasily. What had just spoken to me? I did not remember preparing such words.

Of course you didn't, the voice spits at me. The voice sounded like my own.

I was sure the Seeker couldn't hear this internal conversation for he continues waiting for my response, only curiosity but not suspicion in his eyes. "I am sorry for my hesitation," I mumble, "I am getting adjusted to this new found... savagery you speak of." The antagonism spikes inside of me again.

The Seeker nods. "Understandable," he replies, as if repulsed by the behaviour of humans which had not been entirely uncovered yet. "I will give you time to rest as your Healer has suggested. I will meet you tomorrow in this same conference room for inquisition."

Like hell you will.

I bare my teeth as soon as the Seeker walks away to join the others and follow Fords Deep Waters to my room. Fords is quiet—too quiet—and I draw the conclusion he knew something about this Wanderer. But I don't ask. I continue to ignore the voice in my head, hoping to gag it and shove it back into the recesses of which it came from, although I feel it wouldn't be this easy.

Once I am alone in my room, I decide it would be best to find the ends to the enigma present in my conscience. Who are you?

Who am I? The voice seems to laugh dryly. I should ask who you are. After all, you are the one who stole my body!

You are a human, I conclude predictably, trying out the word in my head. A human. Why are you still alive in my conscience?

Did you not hear the savagery the Seeker spoke of? The voice revokes bitterly, a mocking tone acquainting the reply. The voice shuffles away afterwards, somewhere into the crevices of my mind.

I needed sleep. Situating myself in the odd bed and resting my head amongst the pillows, I turn my head towards the window which acted as a clear wall for my room. As I gaze to the night sky which was littered with stars, a feeling of yearning spreads through me, a fanning of flames. This yearning was not mine—it was the human.

Needless to say, this yearning does not escape me even as I fall asleep. Images of a girl surrounded by golden streams of light, which I slowly grasp were her hair, plague me in my dreams. I hear myself speak to her in these dreams, my voice filled with adoration and my words with promises.

I have never found it hard to let things go as a Soul. Having lived thousands of years which were divided to long lengths on different planets, I have become accustomed to experiencing and then losing. But this didn't mean it made it easier for me to have these dreams.

These dreams were so vivid, so alive and unlike anything I had ever endured before. I felt emotions which I knew were not my own but were forced to embrace. Gradually the events in the dreams descend from happy circumstances to what I recognised would have been the latest occurrence. It felt too clear to have been long ago.

The latest occurrence appears in my dreams from the clattering of shrapnel, the noises of danger and death. I see my body spilling with blood and the very Seekers I had been approached by today in front of me, regarding me cruelly as I died. There is a revolver in one of the Seeker's hands and I comprehend this is how the end came for the human I inhibited.

But there was no agony for my wound. The agony only arrives when my eyes land on the golden girl a far distance away from me. I can tell she is crying and instantly recognise she is a dear one to the human. She is struggling to come forward to tend to me but is held back by some unknown figures.

"Wanderer," I hear my voice rasp, with unmasked desperation.

The girl leans forward in a similarly stricken manner, gasping back, "Ian."

The human's name is Ian. And this was Wanderer. But wasn't Wanderer meant to be a Soul? How could a human love a Soul?

Nonetheless the dream was fading. Ian is falling unconscious, though he struggles to keep his eyes connected to this Wanderer. The last words he utters before he succumbs to his slumber shake me to my very core.

"I love you, Wanderer, my beautiful Wanderer. I will come back." I don't know whether the girl heard or not for the dream ends there. I wake with a snap, my body drenched with sweat and my exhales and inhales coming in rushed huffs. My hands grip the quilts and my body feels as if it had been submerged in the worst torture imaginable.

I immediately stand, determined to make light of this information which needed to be delivered to the Seekers. I needed to fulfil this mission so I could rid of Ian and all the horrible emotions which came with him. I hated everything which I had felt, but at the same time, I treasured them.

The defiance of Ian invades in my mind once he understands what I am trying to do. No, he hisses uncontrollably. You heard my last words. I will make good on my promise.

I didn't even want to think about any of this too much, in case of empathising with him. I sit next to the wide window where the table was situated, hurriedly gathering the paper and utensils which had been supplied.

As soon as I grasp the pen in my fingers, the cutting pain I had felt earlier returns with crushing force. The pain makes my body writhe in all directions and for a split-second, I lose all authority of my actions. My hand clenches into a fist and surges into the glass of the window beside me, shattering one portion of the window but rupturing all the skin in my hand.

I howl. What are you doing?

As long as I am here, Ian growls as I hold my bloodied hand, Those Seekers will never get a hand on her. I realise the injury he had made on me was a threat, a challenge almost. He would completely destroy himself and anyone else he needed to if it meant saving Wanderer.

An image of Wanderer fills my mind again, the silver lining of her eyes the most prominent feature. I come to terms with what I thought was impossible: a human, Ian, loved a Soul, Wanderer.

The image of Wanderer shifts into a moving motion. Her fingers cradle my cheek as she speaks to me softly, "Kind enough to be a soul, but strong as only a human could be." Wanderer dissipates into the distance just as she had came.

Ian? Kind enough to be a soul, but strong only as a human could be? Could it be possible?

Albeit intending my thoughts to be rhetorical, I am given a reply. Don't Souls never lie, Ian whispers, the previous harshness gone.

I don't gift him with affirmation. Too many thoughts are swarming in my mind, enough to make me feel congested without the recoveries from Ian. I obtain a small towel to wrap around my arm, although the white quickly bleaches into red. I turn my gaze to the window once more and find I despise myself when my eyes begin to search for something in the horizon, or someone, I should say.

It is hours later until I begin to sleep again. When I wake, I raise shaking fingertips to my eyelashes. They are wet.


I really did quite want to write more in this chapter, but I figured enough action and development happened as it is. This will be a continuing story as I have something in mind to where it will go. I have always liked the idea of experimenting with Ian being captured because he is such a dynamic character who would clearly not be subdued. All reviews and such alike are appreciated! :) The lyric reference at the beginning of the chapter was Too Late by M83.