The gang knelt before me, trembling. Their flickering forms dimmed like dying embers, their ragged breaths barely audible over the silence that had engulfed the wasteland. The leader, the towering brute who'd sneered at me moments ago, kept his head bowed, his clawed hands trembling as though an invisible weight bore down on him. The others mirrored his submission, prostrating themselves on the cracked ground.
For the first time, I felt it—not fear, not anger, but control. A cold, consuming satisfaction coursed through me. Their lives were in my hands, and for once, it didn't feel overwhelming. It felt… right.
The Fool clapped mockingly, floating above me. "Bravo, little godling! Your first lot of terrified sheep. How does it feel?"
I turned to him, my form still wreathed in shadows. "I didn't do this for praise," I said, my voice calm but distant. "I need them to save me in the real world."
The Fool tilted his head, his grin sharp as ever. "Ah, the naivety of the young. You think these scraps of essence, these bottom feeders, can pass through the gates of the forgotten? Oh, Cairith. They are far too weak to cross. Their tethers have long since been severed. They're nothing but echoes."
The gang members flinched at his words, their faces contorting in desperation.
"No!" the leader rasped, his voice cracking as he clawed at the ground. "We'll do anything! Spare us, Supreme One! We'll serve you—we'll obey every command!"
Another spirit, smaller and half-formed, crawled forward, its translucent eyes wide with pleading. "Please! We'll be loyal. Don't—don't sell us!"
"Sell you?" I asked, my voice hollow, a faint echo of who I'd been.
The Fool descended beside me, his bony hand gesturing toward the cowering gang. "Why, of course. You see, little godling, fear is a currency here, remember? These broken souls are brimming with it now. All that delicious terror you wrung from them can be extracted, condensed, and traded." He tapped the side of his skull. "And if we trade wisely, we can purchase assistance that can actually cross into your precious god plane and deal with the Orford Corps for you."
I stared at the grovelling gang, their translucent forms trembling like wounded animals. Something in me stirred—a flicker of the old Cairith, the boy who hesitated to kill the soldier in the forest. But it was faint, like a dying spark in a storm.
"They're begging for their lives," I said flatly.
"And?" the Fool replied, his tone light but dripping with condescension. "Did you think this was going to be a world of second chances and hugs? Fear is power, Cairith. Mercy is weakness. Do you want to survive, or do you want to die with a shred of humanity no one will remember?"
His words felt like shards of ice, carving away at something deep inside me. I looked down at the gang. Their eyes—if they could even be called that—were wide with terror, their forms flickering as they pleaded.
"Spare us," the leader whispered again, his voice barely audible.
I crouched before him, staring into his molten, distorted face. He flinched as if I'd struck him. "You wanted to rip my tether out," I said coldly. "You didn't hesitate then."
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
I rose to my full height, turning to the Fool. "How do I extract their fear essence?"
The Fool's grin widened, satisfaction gleaming in his mismatched eyes. "Ah, now you're asking the right questions." He floated behind me, his skeletal hands hovering over my shoulders. "Focus, little godling. Feel their terror. It's thick in the air, clinging to their essence like oil. Reach out with your own essence—don't just see it, pull it."
I closed my eyes, reaching out with the essence that swirled inside me. It was like grasping at smoke, slippery and intangible, but as I focused, I felt it—thick, heavy, and cold. The gang's fear radiated from them like a storm, coiling and writhing in the air.
"Now," the Fool whispered, his voice dripping with glee. "Take it."
I clenched my fists, and the fear surged toward me, drawn by my essence like a magnet. The gang screamed as their forms flickered violently, their translucent bodies trembling as the essence was ripped from them. The fear condensed in my hands, forming small, glowing orbs—dark and pulsing, each one radiating raw terror.
The gang collapsed, their forms dimming to a pale, ghostly grey. The leader's head lolled forward, his voice barely a whisper. "Please… no more…"
I stared at the orbs in my hands, their cold light casting faint shadows on my face.
"Congratulations," the Fool said, clapping again. "You've made your first withdrawal. And with this currency, we can buy you the help you need."
I turned to him, the weight of the orbs heavy in my hands. "Where do we trade this?"
The Fool gestured toward the horizon, where the desolate wasteland gave way to a jagged skyline of crumbling towers. "There," he said. "The markets. They shift constantly—one day they're here, the next they're gone. But for now, that's where the deals are made. And don't worry, little godling. I'll help you find the right… contractors."
I nodded, my gaze lingering on the collapsed gang. The spark of humanity inside me flickered again, weaker this time. I turned away, clutching the orbs tighter.
As we walked, the Fool floated beside me, his tone turning almost conversational. "You know, Cairith, this place used to be my home."
I glanced at him, my brow furrowing. "Your home?"
He grinned, but there was something darker behind it this time. "Oh, yes. Long before I became your charming guide, I ruled these lands. The World of the Lost wasn't always this chaotic, you know. It had rulers, borders, order. Tyrants rose and fell, but there was structure. And then…" He trailed off, his grin fading slightly.
"And then what?" I pressed.
He chuckled, the sound hollow. "Let's just say the wrong tyrant fell. And chaos doesn't care who wins."
I stared at him, my unease growing. But before I could question him further, we reached the edge of the wasteland.
The jagged towers loomed before us, their broken spires clawing at the sky. The air here was thicker, heavier, and the faint hum of activity buzzed in my ears.
"Welcome to the markets," the Fool said, gesturing grandly. "Time to buy your salvation, little godling."
I stepped forward, clutching the fear essence tightly. This world, this nightmare, was far from over. And neither was I.
...…..............
We walked past a couple of stalls and broken buildings, this place almost looked like a normal land, similar to most of the mortal planes in the inner strand. Almost. Their was only one striking difference. This place was broken, the stalls built from crumbling sticks, cracks running deep in the buildings.
I was looking around, my gaze fell on a few of the souls, some there to buy stuff while others were selling. Each time I met their eyes, they would look away. All of them had a sad, frightened look on their face.
"Where are we going?" I questioned tired from all the walking.
The Fool didn't answer, he just kept waking till he abruptly stopped at the entrance of one of the buildings. It was broken and crumbling like all the others.
"We are here." He announced before going inside.
I quickly followed tugging at him like a tail. Inside we were greeted by a long hallway. At the end of it was another soul, dressed in a suit and wearing shades. Was he he of those mortals in the middle strand? The ones who liked to dress up and waste time on shit like that?
He looked at us, before turning to the Fool and discussing somethi— wait… wasn't I the only one who could see him?
Huh? What was going on? Were they able to see him in the god plane too? No, thats impossible most of the gods would have fainted at the mere sight of him. Then why was this guy able to see him. Heck! Now that I think of it those gang members also reacted to the fools words didn't they?
"Cairith."
I jolted out from my deep thoughts, to see the Fool pointing at a door next to the man with the shades.
"Come on, we need to go in." He said.
When the door opened I was greeted with a completely different atmosphere. It was warm unlike the chilling air outside. Souls were laughing, drinking merrily. It felt like a bar, heck it was one.
The Fool went on inside and sat on an open seat in front of the bartender, patting the chair next to him, inviting me to join.
I complied and sat but my eyes refused to stay still. Their were all kinds of souls there. Big and bulky. Most lacked limbs or had terrible scars.
The bartender arrived, asking what we wanted to drink. He was a lean, old fellow. His eyes were narrow and had short hair. Among all the souls I had seen he was one of the few who appeared to have a complete body.
"One star shot and a bottle of grisp." The Fool replied.
"Understood." Said the bartender before leaving.
"Mind explaining how everyone can see you all of a sudden?" I questioned, my eyes baring into his.
"Well… I guess they just realised my charm." He shot back with a small smile.
I glared at him further, peaking into his mismatched balls for eyes.
"Ahh fuck it. I don't even care anymore," I said stretching on the table. As the bartender came back with a bottle of what looked like alcohol.
"What are we here to get anyways."
"Your get out of jail card." He replied, taking a sip of his 'grisp'
"That alcohol?" I asked.
"Nope. It's a form of juice made out of souls."
"What?" I asked with a disgusted face.
"Like I said this is—"
"Ahh shut it. My bad, why did I even ask."
The Fool took another long sip from his drink, his mismatched eyes glowing faintly in the warm, flickering light of the bar. "This place has its perks, doesn't it?" he mused, tapping the rim of his glass. "But remember, Cairith, no one here does anything for free. Everything has its price."
"I don't care about the price," I muttered, gripping the edge of the table. "I just need to get out of here. Quickly."
"Oh, you'll get out," he said, setting his glass down with a hollow clink. "But that depends on whether you can deliver on your end."
The bartender returned, but this time, he wasn't alone. Three figures loomed behind him, stepping out of the dim shadows at the edge of the room. They were massive—hulking souls that looked less like men and more like beasts barely contained in translucent flesh. Their bodies were patched together with scars and mismatched limbs, their hollow eyes fixed directly on me.
I stiffened in my seat. "Who are they?"
The Fool's grin stretched wider, far too wide. "They're the ones we're hiring, little godling. Meet your escort out of that lovely cage."