INTERLUDE 3
“You're not spirits, are you?”
It was a question that he did not need an answer to. As he stood within the corridors of this ship of flesh, he realized that “spirits” was a term that came far short of what these creatures were. The walls seemed to pulse with an eerie, red light. The floor squished under his feet.
He was Petar now, a short man with a gaunt-cheeked face, hair so yellow it was almost white and a goatee to match. This body irritated him. It was not as strong as the others the creatures had offered.
Without warning, the Old Woman appeared in front of him and smiled like a proud mother watching her child play. “No,” she said. “Not spirits. What your species calls a soul is nothing but a crude approximation of the truth.”
He closed his eyes, taking that in, and t
