"What– It can't–" It can't be true, is probably what Baz is about to say, but he stops himself. Because, how can it not be true? The evidence is right in front of their eyes. All those people, they're dead. They're dead and their souls are outside, screaming and howling in pain, probably reliving over and over the torture they went through.
This confirms the suspicion from before that the souls outside aren't ghosts.
They can't be ghosts. Not only because ghosts would never take on this appearance, but because if these were truly the souls of the people that had gone missing, they shouldn't be here, it was too soon after their deaths.
Ghosts would usually take at least three days to manifest, which is the minimum it would take a soul to realise its body was dead and to separate from it. And three days was only in the case of suicide victims, and these would rarely come back as ghosts. In the case of natural deaths, it would take a minimum of eight days for a ghost to manifest. Violent deaths, on the other hand, were more varied in the time lapse. It would be an entire month at minimum, but some victims only come to terms with their deaths after years, meaning a ghost could manifest decades after its passing; sometimes even after their murderer was dead too. The soul separates from the body, without exception, after three days, so the souls that were unable to pass on to the afterlife would be stuck in a state of limbo, a place halfway between the afterlife and the human world. Some souls in limbo were able to find peace and would not become ghosts, but the majority of them did.
The most likely case then, was that after their bodies had been mauled, their souls had been forcibly torn away from them and kept in this world. Which would explain why they still "felt" the pain: they hadn't realised they were dead; their consciousness from when they were alive was the same. So even if they couldn't really be feeling the pain, their minds hadn't managed to catch up with what was going on, adding to the trauma of separating a soul from a body. They were stuck in the exact moment right before they'd taken their last breath.
Kit feels his vision blurring, the tears welling up in his eyes and then spilling over. They feel scalding against his skin as they leave tear tracks down his cheeks. Thinking about what these people must have felt, all they must have gone through, he feels so helpless.
What was the point of it all? Hadn't they already failed in their mission? They were too late, they couldn't save anyone.
Damnit. He bangs his fist against the floor. Damnit!
"What are we going to do?" It feels like Baz has been asking that same question a lot today. "You… You don't suppose they can be exorcised like normal ghosts?"
These souls… they didn't know they were dead. An exorcism would have no effect because they weren't in a state that would permit them to pass on to the afterlife. Their minds, because they were still in denial, would block them from doing so. A ghost didn't have as strong a consciousness as a live person, because when the soul separated from the body, it would leave part of it behind, a part of the mind would be lost in the process. That is why ghosts were more easily manipulated and an exorcism could be done in order to get rid of their attachments to the world. Because these souls had been torn apart from the body before the natural process was over, their minds had stayed the same, their consciousness was intact.
But… Kit is forming an idea in his mind. Perhaps… Maybe, there is the slimmest chance, the purification array could work.
"The purification array," Kit whispers.
"What?" Baz startles. Kit had been quiet for too long, he was not expecting an answer anymore.
"The purification array," he repeats.
"You're saying that will work?"
"Maybe."
If he had to say, Kit would say he's almost eighty percent sure it will work. Their souls must be tainted with evil energy. To the point that it has become interwoven with them, and it would be impossible to differentiate between an evil spirit and the souls. Kat herself had sensed the amount of evil energy in this place, never once meaning that by purifying them, they would be released from wandering this world indefinitely.
"But…" Kit hesitates. There is one thing that has him worried.
Even if there is no way to send the souls to the afterlife, then he could at least free them from their suffering, to let them rest. But that would also mean the souls would completely disappear. No chance of reuniting with their loved ones, no opportunity to be reborn… Is he really capable of making that choice for another person?
"What is it?" Baz asks. "You're not sure?"
"No, it's not that. It's just…" He feels like he'd be killing them all over again. The rational part of him knows it's not the case, but he can't help it. It would be more cruel to leave them as they are, condemning them to eternal suffering. But to hold someone's soul in your hands; to have their entire fate entrusted to you… It's more than he can deal with. Just the idea of it terrifies him.
"What? What is it then?"
"I don't think… I am able to do it," his voice drops during the last part of the sentence. Kit lowers his head. He can't bear to look Baz in the eye. Instead, he just stares at his shaking fists resting on his laps. He's being selfish, he knows.
"What? You can't do it? Is it too much?"
"No… I– I…" It's not that he can't, it's just he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to be the one to dirty his hands, to be the one making the last call, so he is hiding behind excuses, a thin veneer of self-righteousness.
Baz grips his arms, his fingers digging into flesh. "Kit. What is it? What's gotten into you?" He shakes Kit lightly. "Look at me."
Kit feels his vision blurring with tears again. Why can't he do this? Why is he hesitating? Every minute he does nothing, the suffering of those souls outside is prolonged. He knows this, yet he still feels paralysed.
"Will you not at least look at me?"
"I…" Kit tries to gasp out the words, but they remain stuck in his throat, choking him with their weight.
He can't tell Baz.
If their roles were reversed, he knows Baz would not hesitate to act. He would know what the best choice is, and he would act on it without a second thought. He's been that way ever since Kit has known him. Never doubting himself, never regretting his choices.
But Kit… He can't do that. Not now. Not when it's a decision of this magnitude. And he can't bring himself to confess, because he's too ashamed of himself. Ashamed of his own selfishness.
"I… I can't kill them," he finally chokes out.
"What?!" That seems to give Baz a shock. "What are you saying?!"
"I can't– If I do, their souls…. They will disappear. Completely."
Baz goes completely silent. Then, after a good time, he releases a loud exhale. "And you're sure of this?"
Kit nods wordlessly.
Baz sighs again. "Alright. I'll do it then."
Kit startles, lifting his head to look at Baz. "But–! But you don't know how!"
"Then you'll just have to teach me on the go." He looks determined about it.
"You– You can't!" Kit can't just pass on the burden to another person. The guilt would be too much. "This is my job! Not yours! You–!"
Baz puts his hand on top of Kit's head, letting it rest there, making him shut up mid sentence.
"Hey, Kit," Baz flashes him a smile, "don't push yourself, okay?" He pats his head once. "Didn't I say I came here to help you?"
"Baz…"
"Why don't you rely on me? Just this once?"
It feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Just those words are enough to calm his erratic heartbeat, and he feels like he can think once again.
Baz takes his hand away, and now the top of Kit's head feels cold. Baz starts standing up. "Now, shall we start?"
"....." Now that Kit's head has cleared, he can assess the situation objectively once again. He can't let Baz do it. He simply doesn't have the knowledge, and Kit does not trust his teaching abilities to convey the knowledge in a way that ensure Baz won't mess up halfway.
Baz stops, sitting down on the floor again. "Or do you need some time?"
"...No." Kit shakes his head. "No, I'm just… I'll do it."
Baz seems hesitant. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." He's determined now.
"...You will?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm sure." He rubs his hands over his face. "I will do it." I will do it, no matter what, he promises himself.
~~~
There was a small office at the other end of the building, and because the array couldn't be done in either the packaging room or the space outside with all the souls, they decided to do it there.
But that meant they had to go through all those screaming souls again, but with Dog guiding them, it's bearable.
Once inside the office, they lock the door behind them. Dog stays outside (probably not a fan of confined spaces, seeing as they are, even though spiritual, a dog), standing guard. The office looks, surprisingly, plain. Only a simple metal desk in the middle of the room, an also metal cabinet in the far left corner, and a diploma of some sort framed on the wall next to it. There's not even a window.
They push the desk to the back to stand next to the cabinet to make room for the array to be drawn on the floor.
Kit clenches and unclenches his fists, working the muscles in his hands. He bends down, in a half-standing half-crouching position, taking out a brush and ink bottle from his bag.
He dips the tip of the brush in ink, but just before he's about to touch it to the floor, he stops. He bites his lip, hesitating.
The more complex the pattern on a seal or array, the more likely even the smallest mistake could be critical. And with a grade four array, the drawing has to be perfect, or the array will not work because the magical energy will not flow correctly. In some cases, it might even backfire on the caster, causing internal damage to the body, and almost always killing them. Death by magical malfunctions, though extremely uncommon, were always a gruesome affair. The flow of energy would reverse, rushing back into the magician's body full force, like a wild, angry river, and depending on the amount of magical energy exuded previously, the backlash would be worse. In the cases where death happened on the spot, the magician would explode from the inside, blood and viscera flying everywhere. If not, then one or various internal organs in the abdominal region would rupture, and the death would be a slow and painful one, bleeding out from the inside.
With the output of magical energy required for this array, if he messes up… No. He can't be worrying himself with what-ifs and other possibilities. If he does, he will never muster up the courage to act.
He paints the first brushstroke. There's no going back now. The more he draws, the more confident he becomes, his muscles remembering the motions and guiding his movements, and the picture on the floor grows and blooms like a flower bud under summer rain. The brush flies under his hand, its movements like a leaf in the wind, undulating and dancing across the floor's surface. In a few minutes, the array is completed, covering almost the entire area of the office's empty space in the middle. A thin sheen of sweat has accumulated on Kit's forehead.
"It's done." Kit wipes his forehead, standing up.
Baz looks at the array appreciatively. "Is that it?"
Kit nods.
"What now?"
"Now we wait for the ink to dry to activate it."
Baz glances at the door. "How long will it take?"
"Not long." Kit shrugs. "Maybe one or two minutes."
They wait for the time to pass in silence, the muffled sounds of screaming from outside the only sound. A sombre atmosphere falls over them. If something were to go wrong, not only will the souls be unable to be saved, but it is most likely the magic will backfire, killing Kit. This is the only chance they have; it's either success or failure.
Kit takes a deep breath, kneeling down on the south side of the array, farthest from the door. He places his hands, palms down, on top of the array. He closes his eyes, channelling all of the magical energy in his body to the array. From the place where his hands are connected, the ink starts glowing with a white light, spreading outwards. As more of the array is infused with magical energy, the temperature in the room starts to increase along with the light, to the point where it is almost blinding. Unlike the purification seal, because this is more powerful, it not only exudes a brighter light, but also heat.
Suddenly, from outside, they hear the screams growing louder, more frenzied, almost becoming animalistic in nature. They can also hear barking and growling.
With his eyes still closed, Kit hears Baz stumbling around the room, followed by a sharp click of the lock on the door turning. There's a blast of cool air on his face; Baz must have opened the door.
"Dog!" Baz shouts.
Through the haze, Kit can see snapshots of what is happening on the other side.
Outside the door, the scene is one of pure chaos. The souls appear to have gone completely mad, as if their consciousness had been sealed away and they have descended into a feral state, tearing and clawing apart each other, as if they were rabid animals.
At the door, Dog is fighting to keep them away. Its body has been enveloped completely by a strong golden light, and it bares its fangs, biting and snapping at whichever soul comes too close to the office.
But more and more souls seem to be drawn towards the door, and it looks like Dog is going to be overwhelmed any minute now. They must be trying to get to Kit and Baz.
In this state, these souls have come to resemble corrupted ghosts, where their minds have been completely consumed with murderous intent. When a ghost becomes a wailing or vengeful ghost, their desire to come back to life twists its mind, until even their souls become warped. They go crazy, their only want and need being to take possession of a live human body once more. But this is impossible to do, and when the ghost tries to do so, they end up killing the person they target. The damage a ghost, either in wailing or vengeful form, does is not physical, but on a spiritual level. If a soul external to your body passes through you, the soul becomes damaged; the body cannot handle more than one soul being in the same space, and your soul will shatter, the pieces like a broken glass pane. Most people who this happens to end up going crazy, and in most cases end up committing suicide. One can only imagine the sort of torture a fractured soul brings. But it's even worse when a corrupted soul is the one to pass through a body. Instead of just fracturing the spirit, it completely destroys the soul within, and the person dies immediately. There is no afterlife or rebirth for a person who has been killed by a vengeful or wailing ghost.
And even though these souls aren't ghosts, they have been tainted by evil energy, and thus can be called corrupted. If they were to get to where Baz and Kit are, it would mean death. Even if not immediate, but death nonetheless.
But the array's casting is only a bit over halfway done. And to make matters worse, Kit can feel his body starting to ache, pushed to its limits from all the magical energy it has used up.
But he can't give up now; the job is far from over, and their lives are on the line.
He grits his teeth, willing himself to remain upright. He will see this through, no matter what. Even if he doesn't make it out of here alive, at least he has to make sure Baz does. And he has to lay these souls to rest. He made a promise to himself he would do it, he won't hesitate anymore.
A surge of magical energy leaves his body, speeding up the purification process. With a burst, light surges from the room out into the rest of the building. The souls nearest to the door let out howls of pain, as if the light were melting the flesh off their bodies. But after a few seconds, they grow silent.
It's working! Kit thinks to himself. The souls have been purified, they're gone.
The light keeps spreading, and as it does, the souls hiss and wail louder, but after a few seconds, they stop.
When the job is finally done, a silence, such as Kit has never heard in his life before, falls over the slaughterhouse. It is so great, he is afraid to break it, as if doing so would be breaking a taboo.
Slowly, he stops the flow of energy from his body, and the array stops glowing. Compared to the brightness from before, the room now seems as if submerged in darkness.
When he lifts his palms from the floor, the flesh on them feels tender, raw, as if they had suffered burns. His whole body is exhausted, he feels like he's just run a marathon. His muscles ache and his breathing is laboured, like someone has reached into his chest and is squeezing his lungs. The sweat is pouring down his face in streams, making strands of hair stick to his forehead and drenching his shirt. It feels like at any moment he might collapse.
Spots swim before his vision, and he feels his body tilting towards the ground. Through his dimming vision, he sees Baz rushing to his side. Just as he is about to hit the floor, he feels a steady pair of arms catching him in their embrace. His vision blacks out, and there's a ringing in his ears. He can feel blood running out of his nose, the warm liquid flowing down the bottom of his face and throat, soaking the collar of his shirt.
Through the haze, he can hear Baz calling out his name. "Kit! Kit! Stay with me!" He tightens his hold around his body. "Kit! Don't fall asleep! You're going to be alright, you hear me?! I will make sure of it!"