“A soul-stealer has come to town,” a neighbor tells me.
“Soul-stealer? What’s that?”
“It’s a demon that eats souls. There’s no coming back from this.”
I am standing on a stairwell. A man-shaped demon emanating flames stands a few steps beneath me.
“Run!” I shout to my seven-year-old, who’s racing up the stairs behind me. “Get as far away as you can!”
The soul-stealer before me has killed both my husband and my two-year-old, and for a split-second I am crushed by the loss. But wordless understanding fills me, all at once; given words, they would be:
Who came back from the netherworld to say this loss is eternal? Either someone came back, or this is propaganda. Right now, I must do everything I can to save my son. And then, then I will worry about how to fix what’s already been lost. Dead or alive, I will…
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