With one eye drowned in a dull crimson and the other veiled in a sickly grey light, the once uniform world fractured in my view.
I was offered the same sight, but given two different meanings.
'What would a ghost want to protect?'
To think that I'd find myself asking such an outrageous question with complete seriousness.
'A house where they used to live while it was still living? No, that doesn't make any sense. The ghost is way too old for that to be a viable option. All the houses on this street aren't new, but their designs are modern. Then maybe some kind of memento of their life? But the chances of a mundane trinket crafted way back when surviving until now seem pretty low.'
On the brink of a breakthrough, I found myself stumped.
Without anyone else to bounce ideas off of, it was difficult to get a broad view of the situation, and thus it became difficult to think of a comprehensive solution. The power of a single individual paled in comparison to the power of a group.
My head rolled to the side. Through the field of blades, I got a peek at the slumbering Empress and confirmed that her condition hadn't changed.
True to her word, it didn't seem like she'd be waking up unless I solved this mystery.
'Mysteries become a lot easier to solve if you know what it is that you're looking for.'
In my case, I only actually know that "something" is here in this house and that "something" is causing the ghost to hesitate over its decision to erase the house.
Right now, the only clue that I have as to what this "something" could be is the fact that the ghost cares about it, but that's not good enough.
'It's time that I narrowed it down.'
So, then, I have a question to ask.
What should I have found by now that I haven't?
—Huff—
It didn't take long for an idea to pop into my mind.
"The... Vanished..."
The people who once lived on this street, along with the people from the areas this ghost had previously haunted, became victims. Unable to resist, they unknowingly had their souls devoured.
This was the explanation as to how this street became lifeless. But that was only half of it.
While their souls might've been devoured, that didn't explain where their corpses had gone.
The thought pulled me down a winding path of conjecture. If the spirit had consumed the residents here, then where were their bodies? This street and its houses should have been littered with them, and yet there wasn't a single body anywhere.
The grim name that I'd given them, 'The Vanished,' was based on their absence, and yet I could explain it in full.
Perhaps this was the key to understanding the ghost's hesitation. Perhaps the bodies were here, hidden in some way, piled together beneath the house. Perhaps the ghost dared not erase the place because disturbing that mass of silent dead would rouse something far worse. It could have something to do with specters and lingering regrets... Like getting revenge from beyond the grave.
That would explain why the ghost is hesitating and would rather leave us to die slowly.
I shut both my eyelids.
A sharp pulse throbbed behind my eyes, and in that same moment, I dismissed my theory.
'Nope. Wrong. Completely and utterly wrong.'
Both the Empress's current state and my previous train of thought were proof against my theory.
'The body and soul are linked in some unknown way. Two sides of the same coin.'
Every wound inflicted on the soul leads to adverse effects on the body. The greater the harm done to the soul, the worse the effects on the body. If the ultimate damage, complete destruction of the soul, were to occur, the body would certainly have a violent reaction. But that didn't mean that the body would turn into an empty husk; instead, it's more likely that the result would be something far stranger.
'That's why they've 'vanished''
Destruction of the soul meant destruction of the body, without any signs of what once existed.
That means that the basis for my theory, that after having their souls consumed, the people of this street should have left behind their corpses, was faulty.
'Thus, my theory goes down the drain.'
My eyelids remained shut longer than I had intended. I found my thoughts drifted off as my mind slurred at the edges. Exhaustion and blood loss clung to me, lulling me into slumber.
The sweet call of rest was overwhelming. It whispered merciless little nothings into my ear to calm my racing mind, stripped my body of all that it had, and left me with no agency.
The pains that rampaged throughout my muscles and bones began to ease. In their place was serene, calming bliss. Even the taste and scent of iron disappeared.
Everything slipped away.
A lull, a stillness, stretched long enough that I almost believed I'd slipped away for good.
Gurgle
Another torrent of blood forced its way up my throat. My body convulsed, lurching to the side, and I spat crimson onto the dirt floor. The burning taste of iron snapped me back. My chest heaved, my lungs screamed, and the fragile veil of sleep was ripped apart.
My heart thudded violently against the cage of my ribs, feeling like it would explode.
My entire skeleton ached with sharpened vigor. Every rib, every joint, every finger felt as though it were made of red-hot metal and copper wire. Beneath my skin, blinding heat and pain rippled.
'My ribs! My ribs feel like they're about to burst wide open! Not just my ribs, it's every bone in my body feels like hot metal! Is this it?! The moment before my soul is completely devoured and my body disappears along with it!'
Accompanying my awakening was the realization that time was up.
Had I failed? Was I going to die in the dirt like a dog?
With one eye drowned in red haze and the other coated in that pale, unnatural light, the world remained fractured, stubbornly refusing to realign. Two weaves of the world existed before me, and neither comforted me.
Still with my back against the dirt, a thin stream of scarlet blood rolled down my cheek.
'My bones! Damn it, that pain!'
Bloody tears swelled in my eyes. I could hardly think straight. As my bones screamed and cried, the pain made everything become unfocused.
'Ah! Damn it! Damn it! It hurts so bad I can't! I don't! What should I—! My bones! My bones!'
Every synapse in my brain was firing at full blast, though all of my brainpower was wasted on pointless thoughts.
'I'd rather die than have to endure this! Why?! Was this what those people all went through?! Forcing a living creature to go through this torment! I hate this! I hate it! I can't stand it! The pain! It hurts! I can't—!'
'That damnned ghost! What in the hell could it even be hiding?! This is absurd! All of it! How would I know what it thought was important?! I didn't know the damnned thing while it was alive! I hate this! I hate this! I want this all to go away! Make the pain go away! It's in every inch of my skeleton! If only my bones were spared!'
"Ah!"
By complete chance, one of my misfiring synapses made a connection. By no means could it have been considered a deduction of any kind; instead, it was more akin to a flinch of the mind.
I didn't waste time celebrating the thought or considering its validity. I only accepted it and made the necessary adjustments to my spirit and mind.
With a swift movement, I turned my body over and flopped onto my stomach. Without giving myself time to grieve over the newfound pain I'd just brought unto myself, I made my next move.
I forced my legs under me to push and reached out my working arm.
The motion was a betrayal. Muscles that had barely obeyed before now buckled with a fresh, electric agony. My hand dragged through grass slick with dew and blood; each blade snagged my knuckle and left bright threads of pain in its wake.
Underneath it all, my skeleton felt as though it was reforging itself into something else entirely.
If not for the brief rest that I'd given myself, I would've broken down on the spot.
'I just have to reach it! That throne!'
The lawn chair sat like an island eleven feet away, ordinary and obscene in equal measure, its plastic arms a mute invitation.
'Don't stop! Just don't stop! I have to wake her up and give her that chance!'
If I made the eye descend, then the Empress would be able to defeat it. That thought burned hotter than the pain.
But why was I heading to the lawn chair now of all times?
That answer should've been the most obvious, even a toddler could've guessed it. In short, The lawn chair was the most notable feature of this backyard. It was the centerpiece in a strange work of art placed by the previous owner of this house. And because it was the most noteworthy aspect of this house, I was willing to bet it all that my answer would be there.
After all, I now knew exactly what the ghost was hiding, what it deeply wanted to protect.
Hands met dirt before my knees did. I inched forward on the belly of my will, elbows scraping soil and stone. I dragged my right arm along with me, as useless as it currently was. I made a path between the plastic obstacles as the chair drew closer. Even as my body protested, I continued.
When I finally reached the chair, I crawled up beside it, but didn't climb onto it.
The chair itself wasn't what I was here for.
I closed my eyes against the two-colored world and listened to the raw static of my skeleton. While I couldn't consider it a proper clue, that static was the nudge that brought me to the answer.
Digging my left hand into the grass, I threw chunks of dirt to the wayside.
My nails tore at the turf until my fingertips were raw and slick. The world narrowed to the scratch of dirt against cuticle, the slow, obscene intimacy of earth under my hand. Every motion sent shocks through the hot lattice of my skeleton.
The soil clung to my palms in dark clumps. I hauled at it before throwing it off without a second thought.
Somewhere, the hum of the ghost shifted; it wasn't silence so much as attention, attention-changing posture. I couldn't tell if the change was relief or suspicion, but I had a hope that it was fear.
I swung my left arm with reckless abandon. Even as blood dripped from my lips, ears, and eyes, I didn't stop.
Finally, my fingers brushed something hard and unyielding beneath the loam. Then, I scraped frantic crescents until an angled corner emerged. When I could see enough to get purchase, I hooked my fingers around the object and pulled. It came free with a small, unhappy sound. I dragged the object free and collapsed backward, clutching it to my chest. The weight almost tore my arm from its sockets.
As I stared down at my newfound prize, I could barely stop myself from laughing.
Above, the eye in the sky widened. Its iris dilated like a great mouth gasping in shock. A low vibration poured through the yard, crawling through the plastic swords, rattling them like bones in a charnel pit. The entirety of the subspace began to tremble at my discovery.
Weakly, I shifted upward. My spine screamed, but I ignored it, bracing on the chair's armrest until I could slump into its hollow frame. The plastic bent slightly under my weight as I sat, but it firmly held.
I placed the object from the dirt into my lap. As I did, I noticed that I'd accidentally smeared its surface with my blood.
"Is that why you're mad? Have I defiled your most prized treasure?"
With what little strength remained, I raised it overhead.
The eye in the sky shuddered as it witnessed the bloodied skull that I held.