The question caught Charon off guard.
’Why do they care about my elent? Is that what all of this is about?’
The wheels of his mind began to turn as he considered how to respond.
’I could deny it, and say that I’m not, but surely they have to have a way to test it. Similarly, they could ask what my actual elent is, and I wouldn’t be able to prove that.’
It made the path forward difficult, but clear.
"I am a soul mage, I just don’t know why you would care that I am."
The leader gaped at him, his nose crinkling in confusion before he rested his chin on his hand. An unknown look crossed his eyes.
"You have not yet died, have you?"
This ti, he decided it would be better to lie, trusting that nothing good could co from them knowing the truth.
He opened his mouth to speak, the sentence forming in his mind, but sothing entirely different ca out.
"No, I have not."
He clamped his jaw shut, his eyes widening in surprise.
The leader laughed, the sound loud and powerful, but not entirely unfriendly.
"Lying will be of no use to you here, boy. We possess power beyond your comprehension. Any attempts to deceive us will do nothing but incriminate yourself."
’Shit, shit, shit! Why didn’t the others warn about this before?’
Rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, he apologized, unsure what else to do.
"This is unusual. Residents of the living world have not walked the River Acheron since I was just a boy, many centuries ago. The Fort was but an idea then, not yet realized. What reason do the Animancers have to return?"
’They keep calling Animancer, that has to be the na for soul mages. Sothing bad must have happened with them before; they think I’m part of so larger collective.’
"I don’t know who the Animancers are. I was given a book, and inside it was a ritual to enter the River Acheron. I used it, hoping to learn more about my elent, and was trapped here with a friend."
All ten pairs of eyes looked down at him, their mouths moving but no sounds coming out, except for the leader.
"That is impossible... yet you are unable to lie, so it must be true."
He stroked his white beard.
"This is not what was expected. Do you truly know nothing of your kin? Of the Animancers?"
Charon shook his head, uttering a single word that threw the High Elders into disarray.
"No."
Five of them rose to their feet, screaming unintelligible words at each other. So gestured or pointed down at Charon, their actions frantic.
The leader squeezed his fist and twisted it to the side.
At once, the five began grasping at their throats, their eyes bulging from the sockets, before he twisted it back and they collapsed into the chairs.
The others watched, a mixture of disgust and satisfaction on their faces.
Their leader straightened his robes and took a deep breath before continuing.
"My colleagues are troubled by this news. The last Animancers ravaged the River Acheron in their civil war, visiting destruction upon our people. Your appearance has rekindled fears that the war may return, worsening our already strained existence."
Charon frowned.
"I don’t know anything about a war. I know next to nothing about my elent. The High Priest of Death told that they didn’t expect it to appear again until I received it. I don’t even know when the last soul mage lived."
The leader turned to the old woman sitting next to him, a silent conversation running between them before the man smirked and turned back to face Charon.
"Interesting, very interesting. You may be more of a surprise than we had anticipated."
He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but the way the leader spoke was more jovial.
’If this keeps up, I might get out of here scot free! I just need to play my cards right...’
Clearing his throat, Charon took a step forward.
"I ca here by accident, and now I’m trapped. If you don’t want here, I understand, just show the way out and I’ll happily leave you all in peace."
The High Elders began to laugh, their silent forms shaking in their seats.
All but the leader, who sighed wearily. His hands steepled in front of himself, the years taking their toll as his cheeks sagged.
"I’m afraid the only exit is in the Fortress of Souls, many miles from here."
Charon gave him a hopeful look.
"Then just send and my friend in that direction, and we will be on our way."
The elder shook his head.
"The Fortress is in the hands of the Clayton Republic, a filthy collection of so of the most deplorable souls to have ever walked the realm. Our settlents are currently at war; to send you that way would only lead to your death, or worse."
He tapped his fingers on the desk, a small smile on his lips.
"However, there is another thod we could try. It would require you to remain with us for longer than anticipated, but it will allow you to reach your goal."
More than happy to hear any offer that would end in leaving the realm, Charon eagerly waited for him to continue.
"You stay here, join the Fort, and work with us to defeat the Clayton Republic. If you do this, upon our victory we will grant you the Fortress of Souls to co and go as you please."
Jaws dropped along the row of elders, their gazes locked on the leader in abject disbelief. The previous five who scread before leapt up in protest again, their mouths open in rage, but a single glare sent them falling back into their seats.
Charon’s eyebrows knit together.
"Why would you want to work with you, and why would you then give the Fortress of Souls? I thought you hated the Animancers?"
The leader’s eyes softened, staring into a distant mory only he knew, reliving a thousand emotions in an instant.
"The others have not been here as long as I have. I rember a ti when the Animancers walked with us, sharing knowledge and histories we have all forgotten. I was just a boy when they fell into ruin, and not a day goes by that I don’t dream of what could have been."
The words ant little to Charon; he had never been there after all, but there was also a sense of connection to the other soul mages.
’The other Animancers’
It was odd to use the word, but it felt appropriate.
’They shared my elent, they knew more about it than I ever did. The book said I would co here often, so they must have had a reason to do that before. If the High Elder wants to help relearn their secrets, then why shouldn’t I?’
The offer sounded good, almost too good to be true.
There had to be sothing else.
Clenching his fists, Charon forced as much confidence into his voice as he could.
"What good did they do? Why would you miss them unless they provided sothing? mories aren’t enough. There has to be another reason why you would want them back."
The elder looked at him in annoyance, his teeth clenching.
"To one of the living, mories must seem like such simple things. You earn them as you grow; they beco part of you. Free and easy, you gather them to use throughout your days, building yourself into a single individual."
He spread his arms to the sides, gesturing to the other High Elders.
"To us, we lose these when we die. Every thought, every emotion, every connection we made is lost, abandoned. Not even the ones we love remain, leaving us as husks of who we once were."
He exhaled sharply.
"Most of our people suppress the feeling of loss, but many others can’t. They are too broken, having lost their purpose. Their destiny. It is why we are at war, the broken finding an outlet for their abandonnt."
The man sat back and blinked for a second longer than normal, unknown thoughts running through his mind.
"So that is my reason. If you are not part of the ones who started the war, and the subsequent loss of our connection to the living, then you can be the one who repairs this connection. You can bridge the gap between the past and the present."
Charon sat stunned, the conviction in the man’s voice striking him to the core.
’He really just wants to solve the crisis his people are facing. He truly cares about them and hates to see them fight. He wants to be a hero for them...’
Taking a deep breath, he stared up at the man and asked the only question he could think of.
"What do you need to do?"
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