Echo Soul Seekers

soul-stealing snakes to leap from his mouth, going straight for the gaping hole he’s left in my breast.
    This is just like the dream. Just like the prophecy. Only I’ve managed to change the ending. Instead of Dace dying, I’ve taken his place.
    I cling to the thought as I watch it unfold. Watch it as though it’s happening to somebody other than me.
    My hands flopping before me, useless and weak. Wanting so badly to tell Dace that I love him—that I’m sorry to leave him like this.
    But the words are soon drowned by a torrent of something metallic and bitter that clogs up my throat.
    Blood.
    My blood.
    And it won’t stop. There’s just so damn much of it.
    Raven shrieks.
    Coyote yips in unbridled excitement.
    Cade shouts in unrestrained victory edged with frustration.
    As Dace calls after me, shouting my name over and over again, his voice hoarse, mangled. Though it’s not long before the sound begins to fade, as though it’s being filtered through too many layers to be properly heard—drifting from a place that grows increasingly distant.
    My body shivers.
    My breath comes in desperate, ragged spasms—and sometimes it doesn’t come at all.
    If it wasn’t for these strong arms that hold me, I’d be falling—tumbling to a place from which I’d never return.
    If it wasn’t for these strong arms that protect me, Cade would’ve succeeded in stealing my soul.
    I want to tell Dace not to worry. Want to tell him about the golden one looking after me—the glowing hands that support me—but the words just won’t come.
    Hush , coos the being as he sweeps a long golden finger over my lips.
    But I haven’t spoken. I tried, but I can’t.
    Hush your thoughts.
    I do. For a while. But then they pipe up again.
    Where are we going? Where are you taking me?
    Up.
    My eyes drift shut. Aware of the light still shining behind them but too tired to keep looking at things I don’t understand. Preferring to immerse myself in this warm, buoyant feeling of comfort and love that he brings.
    You must be the sun! The thought rushes through me—my eyes snap open again. Trying to make out his form, but all I can see is a radiant blur of gold. I told Dace he was wrong, said there is no sun in the Lowerworld. It’s just some fable Leftfoot told him when he was a kid. But I was wrong, wasn’t I?
    Do I look like the sun?
    I squint, straining to see that which has so far remained hidden. Gasping in delight when the glow begins to fade just enough to allow the features to sharpen and a face to take shape.
    The skin is fair, as though carved from beams of light. The hair so blond and pale, it’s almost as white as the skin. Though the eyes stand in sharp contrast, the irises are an unusual yet beautiful shade of lavender that gaze down at me.
    And before I can respond, I feel it.
    The long slender fingers of death curling around me.
    Heralded by the soft whir and hum of my life force quickly draining.
    The corporeal flesh and blood part of me swiftly subsiding. Surrendering. Allowing the soul to take over. To carry me ever higher—soar as high as I dare.
    The sensation similar to how I felt when I was drowning at the falls. The glowing person similar as well. The same glowing person I once accused of haunting me back in that Moroccan square.
    But now I know better.
    So you remember? He tightens his grip when I nod that I do.
    Only this time is different.
    This is the prophecy come true.
The other side of midnight’s hour strikes a herald thrice rung
Seer, Shadow, Sun—together they come
Sixteen winters hence—the light shall be eclipsed
Leaving darkness to ascend beneath a sky bleeding fire
    Only instead of the light being eclipsed, it was me. But at least Dace is safe.
    Right?
    Right?
    You ask too many questions. You must rest. We’ll be there soon.
    I close my eyes again, using my last burst of strength for one final request: Can you please make it snow? Will you do that for them?
    Don’t have to , he tells me. You’ve already seen to it .
    My lips curl at the sides, my cheeks fall wet with tears, as I fumble for the blood-covered key at my chest and fold my fingers around it. At least I’ll leave them with that …
    My focus narrowing to a point so tiny—no bigger than a molecule. Surprised to find that the molecule is me— and that I’m connected to everything.
    A cry of anguish sounds in the distance, though I’m sure the cry is not meant for me.
    Why would it be?
    I’m safe.
    Loved.
    Surrounded by light as