PotS I: Kindred Soul

Chapter One

If you look at everything with your eyes closed, you won't be able to see.

-Morgan Hilete

I was low on fruit and everyone else was high on grass. Not a problem, as they all paid well and tipped generously, with a drowsy side eye and a slight giggle after each "Have a nice day." All I was to them was a fuzzy green puppet that sold them "fruity toot fruits" The memory of me had most likely wisped away on the whispering wind of their exhale.

Clocking out for lunch, I handed my apron to my employer, Azrael, preparing to brave the sea-like-second-hand-smoke-infested crowd of K'vadrat Square, the only barrier between my awaiting lunch and I. The only way to go around would be exiting the city through damp and infested alleyways and then reentering on the opposite side of the city, Agapi, through a hole only big enough to smuggle small children and drugs. Often both at the same time, provided the child is malnourished and anorexic.

The ultimate goal was a sandwich stand, which I got my lunch from daily, the only place that would sell me food for under five adauls. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I took a step into the turmoil and let my mind guide me. Step to the left, one step forward, step left, step right, two steps forwards, one step back. I knew I was getting closer. I could feel it pulling me, guiding me, laying down the path I was meant to walk. In a world of blackness behind my closed eyes, I could feel the goal ahead. I couldn't hear it, see it, smell it, touch it, but I knew it was there, a simple feeling.

Then it moved. No longer directly in front, rather pulling me to the left, urgently. The longer I stood there, confused, the farther away it got, its pull on me weakening with every step it took. My curiosity overtook my hunger, and I chased after the feeling.

My eyelids squeezed tighter, afraid of opening them and losing the pull of whoever – or whatever – it was that beckoned me. I ran into and bumped people with each step, but as I got closer to her, the feeling started to cement in my mind, the sort of feeling I've been chasing since Morgan Hilete told me to find it. Belonging. Destiny.

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"You've grown. I've cultivated your growth to this point, and it can go on no longer. You still have learning to be done, but it is learning of the self, not of the mind." Morgan said, his hand on my shoulder and his eyes in line with mine.

"What are you saying? Are you leaving?"

"No. You are. Right now you are the sum of your knowledge, your identity is incomplete. The only person that can complete it is you, but you cannot start without your catalyst. Someone to challenge you, someone to force you to learn about yourself."

"A soulmate?"

"You could call it that, yes. Find your catalyst, your soulmate. Only then can you be free from yourself."

"Where do I look for her? How will I know?"

"All will be well in time. Trust in your soul."

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She was just up ahead, still walking, not twenty paces away, I in blind pursuit. I wouldn't be back in time for my next shift with Azrael, but he would understand. He'd surely let me off the hook. Eighteen paces. She stopped. Fifteen paces. Ten. Five. Four. Three. Two.

Gunshots rang through the square, followed by screams and chaos. My focus was broken and my eyes flew open. All around me was turmoil, no sight of my catalyst, only rushing bodies tripping over each other and struggling to get free. I looked to the direction they were running from and saw eight figures, dressed in black from the neck down, simple white masks strapped to their heads and a large red dot painted over the center. All standing in the long – dry fountain in the center of the square, elevated to look down on us. Three of them, two women and a male, had long guns pointed at the crowd, screaming at us,