“An Aswang (or Asuwang) is a shapeshifting monster, usually possessing a combination of the traits of either a vampire, a ghoul, a witch, or different species of werebeast in Filipino folklore or even all of them together. It is the subject of a wide variety of myths and stories. Spanish colonists noted that the Aswang was the most feared among the mythical creatures of the Philippines, even in the 16th century.”

- The Journey to the Afterlife

***Dedessia, the Sea of Souls, Clan: Inanimatum***

***Shade, 7 years old***

“Faster you little rats! That's only your tenth round around the barracks! Don't give me a reason to stop feeding you!”

Our old friend, Tormentor, stabs his stick at one of the girls who lagged behind, causing her to run faster for a short distance. I still don't know his real name, but he is on the list of people whom I'll kill. At some point I will get a chance, I just have to be patient.

Our group of four completes another round with Aswang being the fastest. Manticore manages second place and Legna is third. I am fourth... again. No matter how much I train, my stamina simply can't keep up with the others.

If only someone could give me a hint or a stupid guidebook to what I am, but I have to do everything by my guts. At least absorbing the soul of that slaver gave me a boost to my mana reserves. That's the only real benefit I immediately recognize. Of course I still train my magic, but absorbing that soul was so easy that I am tempted to get more.

Sadly the only real opportunities I get to kill someone are with my comrades and I am reluctant to kill any of them. Though I have my eyes on the five assholes from another group. They are pestering us during the group competitions and in the last team battle they seriously injured Manticore. Luckily the slavers saved her. If the bastards have one good point, then it is that they don't throw away their charges for nothing.

Freee meee!

Shut up! Stupid ghost. Yeah, I almost forgot about the downside of absorbing a soul. Apparently my food talks from within my digestive system and I don't know how to shut him up. Will I turn mad if I absorb too many souls? Now that I think about it, having one of them inside my head is bad enough. How will it be with more? I hope I remember soon how to shut them out of my mind. Or how to release them. I don't want to carry around a silent bystander for the rest of my life.

Suddenly someone kicks me from behind and I land face first in the dirt. Pain shoots through my palms and when I check on them I find out that several small shards dug into them. I want to know which sick mind had the idea to use broken shards of glass to even out the training yard. Whenever you fall something cuts or digs into your skin.

On the other hand it is a strong deterrent against falling.

Lardass's chuckle moves away from me. He is the leader of the group of assholes and most likely the one who kicked me from behind. We call them assholes because we don't know their names except for Lardass. Though I strongly assume that that's a nickname because he is so fat. They like it to snitch on the other groups and I think the overseers are actually giving them benefits for causing problems to the other slaves.

“Get up you lazy shade! What are you doing on the ground?” Tormentor's voice comes closer and I hear his footsteps closing in. I get up and growl. Running is better than getting to feel the stick. While I return to my previous pace I try to get the small shards out of my palm. No sense in having them grow into the skin.

“Shade, you okay? That looks painful.” Legna fell a little behind to check on me.

“It's okay. Just scratches. Already got it far worse as you know,” I answer.

“We have to do something against them. The longer we tolerate their behaviour the worse it gets! They have to be dealt a lesson!” Manticore grumbles from further ahead.

She starts running faster to catch up to the assholes, but Aswang holds her back. “Not here. Are you raving mad? All the world can see that you started the fight and the slavers are on their side.”

The asshole group makes their turn around the barrack and comes back towards us. Lardass has the stupidest grin ever on his face, knowing full well that he has Manticore on the brink of losing control.

During the last couple of years I got to know her better. She is a hothead in the truest sense of the word and therefore it is hard to keep an eye on her.

One of the assholes stretches out his tongue, making suggestive licking motions. I really don't get what is going through the idiot's head, provoking a manticore with control issues. On top it looks really stupid when the gesture comes from a child. I already know what will happen next, so I speed up my pace to get to her in time.

Just as our two groups pass each other Manticore raises her hand, fingers outstretched as if to shoot her poisonous fingernails.

“Manti, no!” Legna screams from behind me. Aswang turns around, but he is too far ahead. The asshole's stupid expression turns to fear.

If Manticore kills that idiot with her skill she will have absolutely no excuse for the overseers. They will put her into solitary confinement and beat the shit out of her until she is broken beyond repair. We already had such a case. They display him on the courtyard like some macabre object for study. He is just sitting there in his cage and mumbling nonsense.

I reach Manticore just in time and tackle her from behind, causing the shot to go high.

Both of us tumble into the group of assholes, causing multiple collisions. Manticore falls into a pile with Lardass and one of his cronies. Still running onwards at full speed I come face to face with the idiot who provoked her.

I raise my arms to protect my head while he tries to shove me away. It's in vain. My elbow lands a perfect hit on his windpipe, crushing it. Both of us go down with me on top of him, using gravity to crush his Adam's apple.

Legna arrives and takes down the last two assholes with a jump, finalizing the chaos of downed bodies. It is a perfect pile-up of bodies.

The asshole under me reaches up, breathing stertorously. But he doesn't get a good grip on me while I lean onto his neck, cutting off his air completely. I slam my forehead into the ground next to him to get a good bruise.

Then I play dead on top of him while waiting for the green mist to appear. His hands drop as his oxygen deprived body refuses to listen.

Aswang calls for help as several people try to get to their feet. “Help! Accident! They fell! We have wounded!”

Ten seconds, not fast enough. I try to reach with my mana into the boy and get hold of something. Just like in my memories I try to get a good grip!

Someone reaches for my shoulder and I yank at the soul. Then I am pulled off the asshole and get a good look into Tormentor's enraged face. I don't even have to try to play the poor boy with a concussion. This is power! So much mana. I am on cloud number nine!

“What happened?” He stabs his stick into me and I feel my teeth chattering. But it doesn't matter. It tickles just a little and I don't care. Maybe I overdid it with ramming my head into the ground? Can't he see the blood?

Another electric shock shakes my body and a second overseer appears in my field of view. Tormentor hits me with his stick, giving me a real concussion.

“Stop it! Can't you see that he is out of it? He must have a concussion.” They argue. “What's with the other one?” Overseer number two shakes his head. “He is compost for the fields. Nothing we can do.”

“I don't believe this shit. Such a thing never happened before.” Tormentor grabs my arm and pulls me towards one of the barracks. “Your group is too much trouble. First that incident in the sewers and now this! Let's see if a few days of solitude can correct you.”

I drift in and out of consciousness while he drags me over the ground. When I come to myself I am in a small, dark room without windows, but soon afterwards I fall asleep again. When I wake up I call for food, but nobody answers. I try to train my mana and when I get tired I fall asleep again. I lose any sense of time. Waking up, training, sleeping, trying to endure the hunger. It is dark. I like it, but being completely without light is also a problem. When there is no light all the shades merge into one.

Sometimes the door opens and one of the overseers visits to hit me, or to splash a bucket of water over me.

Sometimes I scream, but mostly I stay silent and try to focus on my mana. I have to keep the voices at bay.

It takes a while, but when the overseers enter my cell all I can do is laugh at them. I laugh when they hit me, I laugh when they give me food or water. No real reason, I just do it. At least it freaks them out and they leave me alone.

I've lost my sense of time.

One night I open my eyes because there are voices in front of my door.

“That little monster in there gives me the creeps. Who do you think are the parents?”

“I think he is Tisha's brat, same hair and eyes. She was trying to hide her baby a few years ago, but the guards found her out. There is no way to live on rations for one person.”

“The clan is going through another famine. Too many people and our neighbours heightened their security.”

“Isn't she one of the high-class whores?”

“So? Contraceptives aren't perfect.”

“No idea who the father might be?”

“You think one of the higher immortals bedded her?”

“Nah, they may do what they want, but they have no need for whores who get busted by all the mids. The raid-leaders can take any wench they want.”

“She is a goddess from another clan. Don't get fooled by the slave collar. They caught her in a raid I heard. Maybe one of the highs got interested?”

I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

Cold water splashes on me and I gasp, opening my eyes. Two slavers stand above me and one has a bucket in his hands. He drops it and grabs me. “Time to go back to your room.”

I flail my fists at him, but they didn't exactly feed me well during my time inside the cell. All I do is annoy him. When my mind gets a hold of the situation I stop my resistance and let myself be carried off.

Upon leaving the cell block a ghastly, cold wind hits my face. Is it winter? I didn't realize that there are seasons in this dimension.

The yard is covered with snow, at least half a metre deep. My eyes fall on the boy who was shut in the cage for killing one of his team-mates. He is frozen solid, kneeling in front of the bars.

“But first we have to get you clean. Then you can walk back yourself.” The slaver carries me over to the river and throws me in a high arc into the icy water. Again I gasp and want to scream, but getting out of the water is more important.

For moments the world consists of nothing else than me, water and shore. Then I am outside and find myself alone. The fucking slaver must have returned to his warm quarters.

I try to get up, but can't. My whole body is shivering like mad and I actually consider simply closing my eyes and being done with it. Who cares that I am out of the cell? A memory of cold unrelenting mountains pops to my mind. Then suddenly someone else takes over.

No! Ascathon Asceron won't end like this! I lived for years in the North, enduring snowstorms and weather far worse than this. I open my eyes and get to my feet, forced by the iron will of someone else. Then I start walking. Environmental Protection! I reach for the mana within me and spread it through my body. A warm feeling encloses me. Another part of the mana concentrates in my hand and forms a complicated pattern. The spell formation activates and spreads out into a thin energy dome around me, shutting out the icy wind.

I continue walking until I reach my group's barrack. After stepping over the door sill I come to myself and realize that I had another flashback. The new spell and the name are still fresh in my mind. Also the scenery of mountains. No, a fjord. And ships. I was looking down on ships and a pregnant woman with a grim expression was standing next to me.

That was a really strong flashback. Frighteningly so. For several moments I just stand there and try to get it together. That was a different me just now.

Then I mechanically stagger along the corridor to my group's quarters. Inside I find Manticore and Legna playing cards. We stole the deck from one of the overseers when he wasn't paying attention. It is our treasure. Aswang is lying in his bed and sleeping.

“Shade!” Legna jumps up and rushes over to me. “Gods! What did they do you?” Without asking for my permission she starts removing the frozen rags from my body. It feels like being peeled out of a shell.

I need a moment to find my voice. “Nothing much. Just locked me up until I started to bore them. Then they threw me into the river to say goodbye.”

“His fingers are blue! We have to warm him up.” Aswang woke up. He has old clothes in his hands, but at least they are dry. I don't care about my nudity in front of the others. That was the first thing we learned to ignore in this existence.

“I am so sorry. That's all my fault for not thinking.” Manticore keeps apologizing while the others try to get me as dry as possible. The barracks aren't exactly warm either. I wonder if they allowed us to make a fire in the canteen? It is the only room with a stove.

Finally I am led to my bed and even get two bedsheets. “What happened while I was away? And how long?”

“Two weeks. And nothing special happened. The slavers gave all of us a very thorough beating and continued our training. The assholes are a lot less aggressive since you downed one of them. They aren't the biggest group any longer and the other groups are uniting against them. Then the weather changed. But they say it isn't a seasonal phenomenon. Happens from time to time and lasts for two to three months. Since the snow came we all are holed up in the barracks and trying to wait it out. They don't even train us in the yard any more. Instead we get lessons in basic magic and personal combat,” Aswang explains.

“You should sleep. It's late and they will wake us up early,” Manticore decides.

Aswang and Legna mumble their agreement and I watch in surprise as Manticore and Aswang lie down together in his bed, rolling up like a caterpillar in their bedsheets. Without asking me for permission Legna lifts my bedsheets and crawls under them, hugging me and slinging her legs around mine.

I try to formulate my discomfort into words. “Somehow I fail to grasp the situation. Are we-”

“Shut up, idiot, we are seven. Did they hit you on the head?” She snaps.

“Yes, several times in fact,” I reply.

She is silent for a few moments and I feel her warmth spreading out to me. Together with it my whole body starts prickling and aching.

“I was hoping that you come back. The beds aren't wide enough for three people. All four of us would sleep together if these straw beds allowed for it. And if you sleep on the ground you freeze off your ass despite piling up all the straw we have. Weren't you cold at night?” Legna mumbles.

“No. It seems like the cells are well heated,” I answer.

Legna is silent for a few moments, considering something. “Maybe we should arrange more fatal accidents to get into the cells. There are still four more assholes to kill.”

.