Terra (2)
As we ventured deeper into the cave, the sounds grew louder. They were the wails of spirits.
[Waaah!]
[Hwaaaang!]
I instinctively pulled the spirits in my arms close. I'd never heard spirits cry like they were on the verge of suffocating.
Sia Clearwater's face was clearly tense. Even the most laid-back person would feel their hackles rise at such spirit cries.
What on earth could have happened...?
I quickened my pace. I didn't want to hear those cries. I wanted to comfort them as soon as possible.
A short walk brought us to a vast cavern. Though dim, the cozy space held dozens of spirits.
[Waaaaaah!]
[Hic! Hic!]
Nearly half were sobbing. Not just crying, but wailing uncontrollably, screaming as grief overwhelmed them—some even harming themselves.
"This is..."
Sia Clearwater covered her mouth, her face stricken.
"Aqua. This place..."
Aqua surveyed the weeping spirits with a devastated expression.
[This is where spirits gather after losing their contractors.]
"Ah..."
That one sentence made it all clear. Why they suffered so, why this was called a grave.
This was the grave where spirits buried their dead contractors in their hearts.
Spirits banished back to the Spirit Realm when their contractors die and the contract breaks.
Banished spirits suffer immense damage. They lose half their spirit power—a massive blow. But the mental toll is even greater.
To spirits, contractors are family. And that family is gone.
Most contractors die to monsters inside gates.
In other words, these spirits had likely watched their contractors die right before their eyes.
[Hic, hic!]
[Hwaaaaaang!]
Who could blame them for weeping as if the world had ended?
I want to comfort them.
As I took a step toward them without thinking, the cries cut off abruptly.
The spirits who'd been sobbing now stared at us.
[...Humans?]
[Contractors? My contractor?]
[Did you come back? Are you all better?]
Their voices brimmed with hope and joy, piercing my heart. I bit my lip hard.
The spirits rushed toward us. Seeing the long tear streaks on their faces, I opened my arms to embrace them.
With tear-soaked, radiant smiles, they flung themselves at us—only to realize the truth moments later.
[...No.]
[No, no, no!]
[Waaaaaah!]
The spirits in our arms burst into fresh tears. They'd realized again: we weren't their contractors, and they weren't coming back.
Yet their grip tightened. Even as they cried, they clung to our human warmth. The heartbreaking sight squeezed my chest.
Poor things.
I gently embraced the spirits clinging to me. We held them all until exhaustion claimed them and they slept.
* * *
The grief-maddened spirits now slumbered peacefully. We hadn't really done anything—they'd cried themselves out.
"Whew..."
Less than thirty minutes, but we were utterly drained. Their raw sorrow had shredded our hearts.
"Um..."
Sia Clearwater started to speak, then just shook her head mutely. There were no words.
Gazing at the spirits clutching our clothes and fingers even in sleep, desperate not to lose that human warmth—words failed us.
How many days, how many nights had they wept? Sleeping from exhaustion only to wake and cry again, for months on end? I had no idea.
[Thank you. It's been ages since these kids slept so soundly.]
Terra stroked a sleeping gnome, thanking me. She often cared for spirits here who'd lost contractors. Meeting her at the cave entrance wasn't coincidence.
Large salamanders wove among the sleepers, sharing their warmth. Always drowsy and grumpy-looking, they were reliable big siblings in moments like this.
I watched my will-o'-the-wisp lantern absorb spirit power while following a salamander, then asked,
"Why care for them here? Wouldn't a sunny, warm spot be better?"
It wasn't pure curiosity—just something to say to endure the silence.
Terra nodded slowly.
[Maybe. But I thought accepting death might help them heal.]
I recalled tales of people buried alive briefly for near-death experiences. Nothing teaches death like the earth itself.
Gazing at the spirit asleep against me, I asked,
"Are there many like this?"
[Yes. Ever since gates to the human world opened.]
Gates mean hunters. Casualties are inevitable, including spirit contractors.
Aqua pouted. Knowing her thoughts, I hugged her tight.
[...I wish no one had to grieve.]
"Me too."
Surprisingly, Mandu calmly surveyed the cave. Too young to grasp the sorrow fully, or empathizing perfectly? Hard to say.
* * *
Sia and I stepped outside. Aqua and Niagara stayed to tend the spirits longer, Mandu with them.
"..."
"..."
We sat blankly, staring at the sky. No drive, no thoughts. Our mental states shattered.
Gazing vacantly at the clouds, a thought struck.
If I died, would Aqua end up like that?
Imagining her weeping in this dark cave, searching for me—it hurt.
I hate that.
If one of us died, would her death hurt more, or mine turning her like this? Unknowable.
—Humans are poison. Once they know human warmth, they can never return to ignorance.
Niagara's words echoed.
No. Even if it brings pain, that warmth is worth it.
Visiting the spirits' grave hadn't changed my mind. But their laments taught me what a "broken heart" truly meant—an intensely raw experience.
"Whew..."
"Haa..."
We sighed in unison.
A sylph fluttered over to our slumped forms.
[Here.]
The sylph handed each of us a pure white flower.
"Ah... Thanks."
"Thank you."
I stared blankly at the flower, then sniffed it. Instead of sweetness, it was refreshingly cool and crisp.
"Oh? Unique scent."
[Nice, right? Our sylphs' favorite. We even call it sylph flower!]
The sylph crossed its arms proudly. But then, with a wry smile, it glanced toward the cave.
[Wish those guys could perk up from one whiff like you two.]
The sylph stretched, hands behind head.
[Eh, can't say much—I spent years in there myself.]
"Years?" I asked cautiously. "Did you... lose your contractor too?"
[Yeah. Over six years ago.]
The sylph smiled—a deeper, matured one unlike before.
Now I recognized it: the large sylph leading the baby sylphs.
Advanced... no, mid-grade sylph.
Sia and I exchanged glances. A question burned for this one.
"How... did you overcome those memories?"
The sylph laughed, ahaha.
[Time heals all wounds—isn't that a human saying?]
I swallowed hard. That wasn't my real question.
Treading carefully, I asked,
"...Any regrets?"
[Regrets?]
"If you'd never met your contractor, you wouldn't have this pain."
[Regrets...]
The sylph tilted its head, grinning mischievously.
[Never once.]
For some reason, relief welled up, tears pricking my eyes.
[Sure, thinking of my contractor still chokes me up. But I don't regret meeting and contracting with them. Those happy memories fuel my life now.]
Its face cloudless, the sylph continued.
[These days, I even visit the human world sometimes. Everywhere stirs memories— a bit sad, but fun overall.]
I looked silently at Sia. Her eyes seemed glad.
Spirits aren't fragile.
They'll overcome wounds. Pompeii calling humans poison was wrong. We give each other joy, memories, growth.
Spirits live on without contractors.
Even without me, Aqua will move forward, smiling over our memories.
Spirits, like humans, climb those stairs of loss and reminiscence.
I knew that.
I believed it firmly—even said as much before Niagara. But hearing it from a spirit hit different.
Why? Such relief, yet profound sorrow.
* * *
Playing with baby spirits outside the cave while waiting for Aqua and Niagara—
[There you are.]
Uluru approached.
"Something up? Need help?"
[No. We have a visitor.]
"Visitor?"
"Ah..."
Sia gazed toward the opposite forest, sensing something. Moments later, I felt massive spirit power too.
Familiar, but not one I'd hoped to reunite with here.
"...Pompeii."
Flap. Human-form Pompeii burst from the trees, mint muffler trailing like a tail.
Sensing our Spirit Affinity, his tense face flew straight toward us.
Uluru blocked him.
[Uluru...!]
Pompeii landed a distance away. Grind. He glared at Uluru, teeth clenched.
We watched their standoff tensely.