Threads of the Soul

Seth took a few moments to brace himself for the oncoming visual onslaught, before finally reactivating his soul sight, finding himself surrounded by ghastly reflections of horrific death's once more.

Their wailing words echoed within his mind once more as they clawed at him with desperate hands, a pleading look within their eyes.

Yet despite that, all Seth could do was shake his head softly. Muttering under his breath, so that only the wisps would hear him and people wouldn't think he was talking to himself like a madman, Seth replied hesitantly.

"I... I can't. I don't know how to help you."

They clawed at him some more, wailing in utter desperation and still repeating their chant, before finally relenting when they realised Seth either couldn't help or just refused to. Once this realisation sunk into their ghostly minds, they all began to drift away.

Their heads hung low, drained of all their previously whimsical nature as they simply drifted through the crowds with no direction or purpose. Gazing upon the people with envy in their eyes, even if all these people were doing were trudging along the road as their legs burned.

These spirits would kill for such a feeling once more, any feeling at all. Even though they could touch each other, all of their feelings were utterly muted. Who would have thought there would ever come a time when someone was wishing they could feel a leg cramp once again.

Turning back to face the direction of their general march, Seth jumped slightly in surprise as he found two spirits still floating in front of him. One was the young girl with the severed head which had been petting Omelette, and currently had a scared and almost worried expression on her face.

The other was an older man, who couldn't be older than 50, with an intense look and an expectant feeling in his eyes, like he didn't believe Seth's words and still expected help. As for this man's cause of death, much like all the others it was plainly obvious. For this man, black blood stained his clothing and had trails down his torso, originating from the gaping hole in the middle of his chest.

Seth almost expected to be able to see the man's heart beating in his chest, if ghosts hearts even pretended to beat anymore, yet where it should have been there was nothing at all. Just a gaping maw of torn flesh and shattered bones.

The man drifted closer to Seth, or more likely just stopped moving backwards for a moment and let Seth walk into him, until they were face to face. The older man narrowed his eyes, glaring into Seth's glowing irises as if he was looking for something particular, although what that was Seth had no idea.

Never finding out what exactly it was the man was looking for, Seth braced himself as he saw the man shift his head so that his lips were near his ear. He was expecting to hear those same words again, and have to argue with this spirit over how his ability worked, but his expectations were proven wrong when the ghostly figure finally spoke.

His voice strained and breathy, despite no longer needing to breath.

"Beware... Heart Eater."

"Heart eater? What do you mean by that?"

But Alas, it seemed the older ghost did not feel like clarifying his creepy and ominous statement, go figure. Instead, having delivered his cryptic and somewhat unhelpful message, the ghostly man leaned back and drifted away.

Unlike the other wisps, however, his movement was not listless, but driven and full of purpose as he floated directly over to one of Seth's newly acquired puppets, a mannequin from one of the stores they had passed by.

The young girl pleaded with the man, a distraught expression on her adorable face as she spoke with him, although the exact words of her pleas were lost on Seth. The words ripped away by the cruel, colourless world that surrounded him when he used his Soul Sight.

The ghostly man turned briefly, giving the girl a solemn smile and spoke some words that Seth could only assume were meant to comfort or reassure her. With a gentle nod towards Seth, the older man locked his hands around the threads connected to the puppet and used them as a leverage to thrust himself inside the puppet.

That was an action that surprised Seth, not just because he didn't expect it, but because it also sent a massive jolt of pain coursing through his arm as the spirit forced itself into his puppet.

The threads controlling that puppet trembled violently, the puppet itself convulsing and spasming like it was possessed, because that's exactly what was happening. After the initial moment, the pain subsided for Seth, but as the puppet writhed and fought against its own body, Seth could still feel a pressure and a strain emanating from it.

It was like holding a fishing line and having a giant, record breaking catch hooked on your line, going wild as it tried to escape. He could easily resist it, he could feel that if he wanted he could drag the spirit out or simply devour it if he wanted.

But he did neither, instead, he did what a good fisherman would do, he gave it a little more line.

He let his threads extend from his fingers, being dragged deeper into the puppet towards the chest, where the spirit resided now. It had turned back into the form of a wisp, even to Seth's Soul Sight, as the threads eagerly wrapped around the foreign soul core like a star gaining planets in its orbit.

Once the threads were fully encasing the wispy soul core, the convulsing stopped and the mannequins eyes glowed with a brilliant blue light.

The Mannequin grew still, already having been left behind by the slowly moving group as they marched on without it as it was having its spasms, but now it was completely and utterly still, like a robot waiting for commands.

And yet, with no command from the great puppet master Seth, the mannequin slowly raised its hand in front of its face, gazing curiously at the hand as it flexed the fingers and clenched the hand into a fist.

It was odd watching this thing move without his control. You'd think he would be used to it because of the likes of Bob, but this was different. Bob's connection was never like that of a puppet. For all intents and purposes, Bob was his own person. Their connection was more of the mental type, mutual instead of master and servant despite what Bob might say.

However this mannequin had been a puppet just a few moments ago, in fact it still was a puppet. Seth still had that servile connection to the mannequin, he could force it to move in different ways even with the spirit possessing it. But he chose not to, simply letting the ghostly man feel for the first time in god knows how long.

It was like watching your arm move on its own as it drew a wonderful picture, feeling each and every one of the muscle movements but knowing that none of the intricate movements it was making was of your own free will.

Safe to say, it was a deeply uncomfortable and unsettling feeling.

Alas, despite his own discomfort, Seth still had a soft smile on his face as he watched the mannequin move on its own. Watching as it used its wondrous new hands to touch its face and the ground around it.

It seemed enamoured with the sensations, marvelling at textures that were once to familiar to it but we're now utterly foreign.

Many of the other spirits were staring after the display with awe and jealousy, and the spectacle of one of the 'Lords' minions acting so strangely was enough to also draw the eye of those restricted to the mortal plane.

It wasn't just his odd behaviour that drew their eyes either, but the sheer overwhelming strength that suddenly burst forth from this simple minion.

The strength this mannequin exuded was nearly on par with their 'Lord' when he was facing the Rat King.

Although he didn't show nearly that level of strength here, since it would be complete overkill, it did allow the possessed puppet to catch up to the group with one powerful step that launched it forwards dozens of metres.

Few had seen the wisp enter the minion, but none but Seth himself and the little ghost girl knew exactly how it had happened.

Perhaps that was for the best, however. Not just because it might raise questions about his identity with the normal people, but also because it might not be the best for other spirits to copy the actions, even if it meant overwhelming strength and the ability to feel once again.

For you see, Seth was indeed smiling and he was happy for the ghost to finally feel once again and experience the strength he missed out on.

But it was also a smile that contained a hint of sadness.

Because while others were marvelling at the spectacle, all Seth was able to focus on was the tiny crack that had formed across the torso of the possessed mannequin.

A crack that grew by another few millimetres as he was watching it, and was constantly emitting a faint, azure light.