The Soulstice

THE LIFE AFTER DEATH Scarlett had been dead for eight months, three days, and four hours. She knew because Elias kept count. Scarlett, on the other hand, had stopped caring somewhere around the second month. “You're late.” She looked up from the cup in her hands. Elias was standing across the small café table, staring at her with the kind of disappointment usually reserved for people who had committed actual crimes. Scarlett glanced toward the clock hanging above the counter. “I’m three minutes late.” “Four.” “That sounds like a you problem.” Elias pulled out the chair and sat down. “You know, most people try to be responsible after they die.” “Most people probably had a life worth being responsible for.” The words came out more bitterly than she intended. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Scarlett looked down at her coffee. It was still steaming. That was one of the things she found strange about Amnes. Coffee was hot. Bread was soft. Rain was cold against her skin. The wooden chairs creaked when she moved them. The wind still tangled itself in her hair. Everything felt real. Except for the people. They were all dead. Including her. She took a sip. “Still tastes like coffee.” Elias stared at her. “You've said that every morning for eight months.” “And I'm still impressed.” “You don't even need to drink it.” “I know.” “You don't need food either.” “I know.” “You don't need sleep.” “I know.” Scarlett put the cup down. “Are you going to let me enjoy things, or are you planning to ruin my morning?” Elias smiled. “I'm just making sure you haven't forgotten.” Scarlett's smile disappeared. Forgotten. That word always did something strange to her. She looked away from him and toward the café window. Outside, Amnes was beginning to wake. The city was gray in the mornings. Not dark, exactly, but never bright either. There was no sun hanging in the sky, only a pale, colorless light that seemed to come from everywhere at once. People walked along the streets. Some carried grocery bags. Some were talking. Others were rushing toward work. A woman in a yellow dress walked straight through a closed shop door without bothering to open it. Nobody reacted. After a while, you stopped noticing things like that. Scarlett had learned that quickly. She had also learned that Amnes had no real morning. No sunrise. No sunset. The sky simply changed slightly whenever the city decided it was time for another part of the day. It was strange. Everything here seemed to imitate life without actually being alive. Sometimes Scarlett wondered if that was what death was supposed to feel like. She hated that thought. Mostly because she couldn't remember what life had felt like. She couldn't remember her mother's face. She couldn't remember whether she had siblings. She couldn't remember where she had lived. She couldn't even remember what her own voice had sounded like before she died. The only thing she had was her name. Scarlett Ezo Ferolino. She knew it because the registry had told her. Everything else was blank. At first, she had been terrified. She had spent days asking people whether they knew her. She had walked through streets she thought might feel familiar. She had searched through records. She had stared at old photographs until her eyes hurt. Nothing. No recognition. No memories. Just a name. Eventually, she stopped searching. Not because she didn't care. Because caring without finding anything was exhausting. “Scarlett.” She looked back at Elias. “Hmm?” “You're doing it again.” “Doing what?” “Thinking too much.” She rolled her eyes. “I wasn't thinking.” “You were staring at the window.” “Maybe I like windows.” “You've been staring at that same window for five minutes.” “Maybe it's a really interesting window.” Elias laughed. Scarlett smiled despite herself. That was Elias. He had been the first person she met in Amnes. She didn't remember meeting him. Not really. She only remembered waking up on the ground somewhere outside the city and finding him standing over her, looking equally confused. He had asked if she knew where she was. She had said no. He had asked if she remembered her name. She had said no. Then he had pointed toward the enormous city beyond the hills and said, very calmly, “Then we're probably dead.” Scarlett had punched him. He had deserved it. At least, she thought he had. They had been friends ever since. “Come on,” Elias said, standing. “Where?” “Work.” Scarlett groaned. “Do dead people really need jobs?” “Unfortunately.” “Who decided that?” “The people who built this place.” “And who built this place?” Elias shrugged. “Dead people.” “That doesn't answer anything.” “It wasn't supposed to.” Scarlett followed him out of the café. The streets were busier now. Amnes looked almost beautiful when she didn't think about what it was. There were little houses painted in faded colors, narrow streets lined with trees, old stores with crooked signs, bakeries that smelled like fresh bread, and buildings covered in ivy. There were markets where spirits bought things they didn't technically need. There were schools for children who had died before growing up. There were parks where people sat beneath trees and talked about lives they couldn't remember. And everywhere Scarlett looked, there were spirits. Some looked perfectly normal. Others didn't. A man walked past her with half his body transparent. A little girl chased a paper airplane that kept passing through her hands. An old woman sat on a bench, staring at the same photograph for what looked like hours. Scarlett wondered if she was looking at someone she loved. Or someone she had forgotten. That was the cruel thing about Amnes. Everyone had a past. Almost nobody could remember it. Scarlett and Elias eventually reached a large stone building at the center of the city. The Registry. It was where spirits were given their assignments. Scarlett hated the Registry. It always smelled like dust and rain. Inside, spirits stood in long lines while names appeared on enormous sheets of paper that moved by themselves. Elias disappeared toward one side of the room. Scarlett walked toward the desk assigned to her. The woman behind it didn't look up. “Scarlett Ezo Ferolino.” “That's me.” She slid a small card across the desk. Scarlett picked it up. There was a name printed on it. Not a person's name. Her own. Below it was a number. Her assignment number. Scarlett stared at it. “Again?” The woman finally looked at her. “Again.” Scarlett sighed. Her job in Amnes was simple. Every few days, the Registry assigned her a living person. Her task was to frighten them. Not kill them. Not hurt them. Just scare them enough that a small fragment of their soul would separate from them. Those fragments were collected and brought back to Amnes. They were used for almost everything. Food. Clothing. Buildings. Electricity. Light. Without them, Amnes would slowly disappear. And if Amnes disappeared, so would the spirits living inside it. Scarlett hated the job when she first started. Now she mostly thought of it as annoying. She tucked the card into her pocket. “Who's mine?” The woman checked the record. Then she paused. Scarlett noticed. “What's wrong?” “Nothing.” “That didn't look like nothing.” The woman slid the assignment toward her. Scarlett looked down. There was a photograph attached to the card. A girl. Dark hair. Pale skin. Tired eyes. She looked young. Not happy. Not sad, either. Just... Tired. Scarlett stared at the photograph for a moment longer than she meant to. Then she looked at the name. Ash Desiree Solidum. She didn't know why, but something about the photograph made her uncomfortable. Not because the girl looked frightening. She didn't. If anything, she looked strangely familiar. Scarlett frowned. “Where does she live?” The Registry woman gave her an address. Scarlett folded the paper and slipped it into her pocket. Then she turned toward the door. “Good luck,” Elias called from across the room. Scarlett looked back. “With what?” He pointed at the card. “Your new assignment.” She shrugged. “It's just another person.” Then she walked out. She didn't know it yet, but she was wrong. It wasn't just another assignment. It was the beginning of the first thing Scarlett would ever have that she was truly afraid to lose. But for now, she knew nothing about the girl in the photograph. She didn't know why Ash could see the dead. She didn't know why her own soul seemed strangely connected to hers. And she certainly didn't know that, for the first time since waking up in Amnes, Scarlett was about to find something that made her want to remember who she had been. She was about to find someone worth becoming alive for.