A long time ago, there was a girl who wanted to understand everything about the world.

She raced through the forests and laughed with the wind. She pressed flowers and knelt by the edge of the brook to count the fish that swam by. She learned to chart the stars, studied the healing properties of plants, and cataloged all of her insights in the field guide she eternally kept by her side. How do the owls hunt? Why do the birds cry? What makes the water-lilies grow? When do the cicadas gather? Because she loved the world around her, because she was delighted by each of its little mysteries, every day was filled with the joy of new discovery.

Her name was Sláine E. Catháin, and she wanted to be a scholar.

In the land of her birth though, one’s fate was entirely determined by the Tree all things originated from. Those that the Tree loved, with strong souls and weak constitutions, were the clergy, the oracles, and the ones who’d receive education to do everything else that society required to function. Their weaker bodies made if far more dangerous for them to go out and serve in combat, and since the Tree recognized its power within them, they would be certain to go to the after-life when they died. Their stories would already be committed to the Root, so they toiled for the betterment of the world, rather than the betterment of their own name.

Those with weak souls though, the ones that the Tree had forgotten, they had to fight for their land and to be remembered by the world. They were the warriors, the heroes, the ones who had been gifted with the duty of battle. Their inability to commune with the Tree made them a poor choice for scholastic or religious work, as they could not transcribe those teachings into the Root on their own, and furthermore, if they did not pursue glory to make their existence one of note, they would not be able to find their way to the land beyond, where all of the kinsmen had gone to rest before them.

It was on their tenth birthday that every child was taken to the Tree, and during a ceremony that would mark one’s future path, they would discover what sort of school they should attend, and what they could become. Those with weak souls were put in military academies to prepare them for a hero’s life, and those with strong souls would be enrolled in an academic institution so they could serve society with their minds.

So this is what Sláine thought for herself: if she had a strong soul, she’d be quite pleased by her fate, and happily go along the scholar’s track. If she had a middling soul, she’d naturally have a stronger body to go with it, so she could cultivate fame and still pursue her interests by doing field research in dangerous areas. Perhaps she could be a doctor, studying new medicinal herbs for healing poultices while gaining hands-on experience with their use and applications? Perhaps she could see strange plants and animals near the border, species that few people had even seen, much less categorized?

These were all exciting possibilities, and she’d be happy with any of them.

She tried not to think about what it’d be like to have a weak soul, to be committed to a purely military track of education, but for thoroughness, she wrote down some possibilities anyway. She would simply work harder than anyone else, train longer than anyone else, put more effort in than anyone else, to hone her martial might, rise through the ranks of the army, and do great deeds to gain fame and notoriety. Once the legend around her had grown, once she had become a respected enough person, she could retire to her true interests, while confident that the work she’d done in life would allow her soul not to disappear after death.

It’d be a longer journey, but the things in life that mattered were worth working for, she thought. And maybe being in the military wouldn’t be so bad. It wasn’t her true interests: categorization, classification, and natural studies were where her heart truly lay, but perhaps she could become a tactician rather than a foot soldier? Or a commander who used their intelligence and observational abilities to guide their troops to victory?

That could be nice, Sláine thought at eight years old, staring up at the stars that watched over the world’s hopes and dreams.

When the time came for the ceremony, Sláine told herself to be confident. She looked into the mirror, patted her cheeks, and then set off with the rest of the children in her year. No matter what she was told, she had a plan to overcome it. No matter what fate had in store for her, she’d weave a story for herself that she could look back on with pride.

There was only one possibility that Sláine had not accounted for.

I’ve never seen anything like it. By all accounts, this girl doesn’t have a soul at all.

…They didn’t say it so bluntly, not back then. The oracles made their excuses as she stood in front of that tree, looking up at its spiraling trunk and wondering why, unlike every other child that had been gathered there, it hadn’t reacted to her at all. Some received visions, some heard its whispers, for some it was as subtle as the drift of a falling leaf, but the clergy could tell how much it resonated with each person, the thing that had birthed them all, that thing that was supposed to love them all.

Sláine felt nothing but the wind on her face, and the cold creep of uncertainty as she looked at those expressions of poorly concealed bafflement.

She was told that she was particularly weak souled, and she was immediately recommended for the military track. Sláine’s clan sent her off with well-wishes and love, and looking at all of their faces, of the people who had grown, fought, lived, laughed, and loved before her, Sláine learned how to fake a smile for the very first time.

She told herself over and over again that she should have hope. She would do anything it took to make the Tree acknowledge her. She would do anything it took to become worthy of the Root that marked all of their histories.

Sláine E. Catháin was capable of doing anything, and as she stared at the ceiling of the dormitory she shared at the academy, she sharpened her resolve.

She did her drills late into the night, every single night without fail. She listened to the veterans tell their stories, taking notes of their defeats and successes in equal measure. In martial combat, there were few that could even hope of besting her, because of her body and how hard she kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing until she found victory.

There were things that she wanted, after all. There were things worth fighting for. She could still see the path to the future that she desired, and she kept those hopes cushioned gently in her heart as she graduated and, finally, was sent off to war.

She still had hope after her first battle, her second battle, her third. Even after she had to say goodbye to her fourth comrade, her fifth, she persevered. Her sixth battle, her seventh battle, her eighth, she never questioned what she was being ordered to do. Every hour of every day, she worked harder, cutting through the Enemy — whoever the Enemy might be that day — before exercising and falling into a dreamless sleep.

The servants of the Fears that she fought to protect her homeland. The elves of the Sylvan Republic, a war that she never quite understood, fell before her. Step by step, bit by bit, cut by cut, slash by slash, she fought without passion, she fought without hate, she fought to secure a peaceful future where she could do what she loved. Inch by inch, she forgot what it was like to be ‘curious’, she forgot what it was like to ask questions and delight in search of their answers, because for her, all that was necessary was the search of legends. Of heroism. Of war.

…Being acknowledged by the Tree wasn’t just a matter of social pressure: it dictated everything in the society to which that girl was born. What jobs were available, whether or not one could acquire land, if a marriage would be blessed or if the request to raise a child would be granted. And every time that girl went back with her accomplishments, every time she thought, this must be enough by now, I’ve become famous enough by now, I’ve served my country and this land enough by now — she always received the same result.

It’s like it can’t even see her. This girl — does she even have a soul at all?

The idea of someone being born without a soul, without a connection to the Tree, was completely unprecedented. No one had ever heard of such a thing coming to pass, so they continued to say, work harder, wait just a little bit longer, and surely you will achieve what you’re striving for. She kept hearing stories of those with weak connections finally being acknowledged after years of hard work. She even met a couple that had been, year after year, approaching the Tree for a blessing of their marriage — and after ten years of dedication, they finally received it and were allowed to wed.

And there there was even some joy to be found in those days, moments of levity that kept her going. She bonded with her fellow troops, those weak-souled comrades who understood her position. They laughed together in the twilight hours before resting to greet a bloody dawn. And most importantly, that girl began to hear all of their stories.

Two soldiers who’d promised to wed when their souls were strong enough for their marriage to be blessed. A girl who didn’t have many dreams of her own, but dearly wished to return to her clan and eat their home cooking by the fire once more. A boy with a wonderful singing voice, who didn’t much care for the grime and gore of battle, but tried to press on anyway and keep cheer up where he could. In her new life, she made dear friends like this, and more. For each of them, she hoped for the best. She delighted in their hopes and was always there to encourage them to follow their dreams.

One by one though, she always said goodbye, whether by a grave or at a farewell party, and Sláine began to truly wonder when it would be her turn.

And that is how the years passed.

Sláine continued to smile, but each time she returned home, it was always a little bit faker.

When the promotion came and she was given her own troops to command, it startled Sláine. At some point along the way she’d forgotten that had been written down in her book of plans about the future, that she’d considered leadership a ‘satisfactory possibility’. She began to wonder if she was still walking towards the same destination as she had been back then, as the road stretched longer and longer before her. She wondered if maybe, just maybe, she should learn to be satisfied with this.

Somewhere along the way, fighting had become fun, and she couldn’t remember the joys that curiosity brought her.

Just as Sláine had worked to hone her own abilities, she tirelessly strove to become someone worthy of leading her soldiers. They were called the Evergreens, her little band, because they were the sorts of people who could be expected to thrive in conditions that no one else could. It was, in some ways, a comfort, even if the work was grueling and the enemies were countless in their horrors. More often than not she was sent to slaughter servants of the Fears rather than the more mundane threat of the elves pushing at their borders from the south, but still, she could rest a bit easier without worrying quite so much about the survival of those around her.

She lead numerous successful campaigns. They praised her, calling her a ‘good leader’. And as the dreams inside her faded, she instead treasured the optimism and hopes of those that grew around her. Even if sometimes felt that her steps had slowed and she had halted on the path towards what she valued, she loved those that ran on ahead of her, and pushed herself forward to make sure that they reached their destination. One day, surely, the Tree would resonate with their accomplishments, and everything would be worth it in the end.

However, just as those successes never seemed to reach her, neither did the failures, and the consequences had always been felt not by herself, but by everyone around her.

It is hard to attribute ‘fault’ to the events that occurred that particular spring day. The truth of the matter is that it was no one’s fault, that no matter what Sláine did, nothing probably would have changed. But she remembered walking through the woods, enjoying the scent of the flowers on the breeze, and turning to her second in command to make some pleasant comment about the future. For that momentary drop of her guard, and her feeling like things might be okay, Sláine would never forgive herself.

Because that was when the ground opened up beneath them.

There was no way to predict it; that was the thing about Fathomless, the fear of the endless, all-consuming expanse that reduced everything to nothing before its might. Never knowing when the earth will fall beneath you and you’ll be consumed by the bitter winds, never knowing when the Pit will swallow you up and crush you beneath its teeth of iron and stone and the geological history of the earth. One minute, her battalion was marching along, and the next the soil had ripped out from beneath them, and screams pierced the air, and they were falling, helplessly falling, only to be choked and swallowed by the different sort of endlessness beneath.

She’d tried to help them.

She’d tried to reach out and save anyone she could.

She’d stared into her precious subordinates eyes as she’d grabbed onto his wrist, watched the sharp fear in them as she desperately clung onto the wall of the opening ravine. She’d heard the pebbles skip down the side of the chasm, and heard the soles of his boots scrabbling against the wall in a helpless attempt to gain purchase. She’d yelled at him to hold on, just a bit longer, I’ll pull you up — and she saw that fear turn to sorrow, to despair, to resignation as Sláine’s grip slipped further from the edge.

And she saw him smile as he let go, telling her to live.

Sláine hated that more than anything else. She threw herself in after him. And as the wind whipped around her, she did not know if it was because she hoped to save anyone, or if she simply could not bear to say goodbye a single more time.

At some point she landed, feeling dirt fill every crevice that the wind had once occupied. She lay there for a long time in that silence, waiting to hear the sounds of struggle somewhere in the dark. At some point she thought she could hear it, perhaps when the soil moved, spilling into a small tunnel barely wide enough for her shoulders to pass through. Maybe that's what made her claw herself forward, rather than simply lying there and surrendering herself to despair. Maybe that's what pushed her to begin to dig.

And dig.

And dig.

Fingers in the dirt, the gravel, the rock. An endless repeated motion.

If she'd allowed herself to think, she would have thought it strange that no matter how hungry or thirsty she became, it never completely sapped away that strength she had. That no matter how tight the space was, how little air there was, she never needed to breathe. That the crushing weight didn’t collapse her organs, and even when her body gave out under the pressure of fatigue, she could lie there for some time, regain her energy, and continue forward.

It was the last hope she had, finding someone, anyone still alive.

She did not.

She did not know how long she spent digging. Time was senseless in the darkness, only marked by shovelfuls of earth and the scrape of her body through whatever space she could find to push it through. At some point, she found a cave. At some point — by accident, most likely — she eventually found the surface, and the stars that she had loved so long ago guided her towards home.

The patrol that found her was astounded by her condition. She could not share in their excitement as they brought her back to their camp, and she numbly washed off the dirt and grime. They did not say how astonished they were that she had risen up and joined them once again, but she could see it, poorly concealed, in their faces. She had not the heart to tell them that she wished she could have remained still.

She told the officer there, in a solemn, sullen voice, that she had been the only one to survive the incident. There were platitudes, and she was told that she had tried her hardest, before she was sent back to take her leave in the city. They’d need to put together a new regiment for her, they said. She’d been gone for months, and they had things they must sort through.

Sláine tried not to think about it, and she succeeded.

When she arrived back in the city and was welcomed by her clan, she knew the expressions on their faces were ones of joy. But she also noticed how none of them would touch her, how there was just a hint of fear in them all, mixed in with that pride. A girl who could disappear for months and then crawl back home, seemingly unscathed. A girl who could be beheaded and then rise up again. The stories had congealed, as rumors often did, and she was left smiling at them as they whispered about the undying one.

When they looked at her, Sláine wondered, what is it that they could see?

…What would they have seen in all of those people who had fallen and been crushed beneath the weight of the earth?

She wondered this as she made that final trek towards the Tree.

The dirt was still there, under her fingernails, and the wind on her face took on a new character. She didn't need to look at those oracles to know the truth of her situation. If a weak-souled person was hard to kill, then could make a person impossible to kill?

Obviously, by not having a soul at all.

No matter how hard she worked, she would never get the acknowledgment she so craved.

No matter how hard she tried, she would never be recognized by the society she had been born into.

No matter how hard she prayed, all of her childhood dreams would turn to ash in her hands. All because she did not have this thing that could be called a ‘soul’.

Those around her would leave her behind, even if they were more worthy of being alive than she was. Every ounce of effort she put forth, and it would lead to nothing of value at all. Forever, she would be condemned to try to protect the things she cared for, and always she would be the one to survive, beyond everyone else, beyond everything else.

Sláine left, still smiling, but there was nothing left inside.

That girl could not possibly understand anything about the world, because she was completely, entirely, and absolutely empty. She was not something that could truly be called a living person.

And so she walked, and walked, and walked, in the same plodding movements that had characterized her when she had dug. And so she arrived at the realm of human beings after a very long journey, in the hope that — if she could not be a hero there — then she might at least be able to find her death, because she was so, so very tired of it all.

“…and that’s why there’s no point in worrying about me, Red,” Sláine finished with a smile, still staring out at the facsimile of the Tree that she could, at that moment, barely feel anything about. “Because if I — somehow — manage to die, that’d be proof that I was alive in the first place, and if I cannot… then there was nothing worth being upset over in the first place.”

“Sláine, you…”

There was something oddly satisfying about leaving the woman lost for words. At hearing those realizations click together in her voice, at her understanding the true folly of caring so much about the existence of someone like her. What could she even say? I’m sorry? Or that really sucks? Ultimately, it was a pathetic problem, immortality. She’d thought so much about it during her journey. So many people would probably love to be in her shoes, because without the fear of death, without the fear of consequences, what was there to be unhappy about?

It had been freeing to fight with absolutely no concern for anything around her, hadn’t it?

…If she could just give up those things that she valued, then she wouldn’t have a problem at all, right? If she could just give up that fear of being alone. Even if everything felt pointless, even if happiness felt like such an intangible, ridiculous pursuit…

Why did it matter whether or not she was alive, as long as she could exist?

She didn’t know. But it always came down to this: how could her heart be pained if she always felt so dead inside? And whatever suffering she went through to help someone else — if she was fine in the end, then what harm had really occurred?

It was then, suddenly, that she felt something around her midsection, and there was a warmth pressed against the upper swath of her back. “Don’t — don’t turn around,” she heard someone say behind her, and Sláine realized that, from behind, a person was holding onto her tight.

“What are you doing…?” The words came out numb as she could barely process what was happening. Sláine looked down, as if searching for answers from the earth, and saw Red’s gloved hands clasped at her stomach.

“I’m hugging you, you miserable, depressed, traumatized idiot.”

“…Why?” Sláine managed, baffled. “I don’t need it. My emotional state is… pointless to be concerned about, and physically, I’ll heal from any harm that’s done to me. I’m just an empty person, so you really shouldn’t — “

“What the fuck does that even mean, an ‘empty person’? You clearly feel shit! Even if you can’t die, you still feel pain!” Sláine could feel the puffs of hot air against her back as Red shouted, and she felt the arms wind tighter around her still. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, and just because you don’t have a — a soul, in the eyes of your people, it doesn’t mean you aren’t a person. It doesn’t mean your feelings don’t have value!”

Sláine hesitated, taken aback by the ferocity in her voice. “Even if that is true,” she began, as neutrally as she could, “I’m simply pointing out that you don't have to feel any guilt in using me. If I can save you, then there’ll have been some reason for me to have been born.”

“There was — a reason for you being born, just by being alive! Death shouldn’t be the thing that defines you, Sláine!” Red struggled, a verbal fumble before she said, “It’s how you live!”

Sláine felt something wet, something that left a heated streak across her back. Was Red… crying?

“To not have a heart,” she continued, as Sláine was stunned speechless, “It wasn’t just about lacking a physical thing. It was about losing hope in living, and that ability to care about the people around you. Confronting empty, lifeless day after empty, lifeless day, wondering what the point was in even getting up in the morning… I didn’t really care about what happened to me. And because I know what that feels like, I know that you’re not telling the truth.”

“…About?”

“How much you actually want someone to care about whether or not you’re okay!”

Sláine reached down to Red’s hand, intending to pry it off but not quite able to do so. “It doesn’t matter what I do or don’t want, especially if that’s what it really feels like to not have a heart. Your priority should be getting it back, so — “

“Don’t you get it? I can’t just take it back! I’m sick of people feeling like they need to sacrifice themselves for me!” Red trailed off, miserable. Sláine, hearing her sniffle, felt entirely lost. “If I take his heart back, I have to take with it all of those expectations he had of me. Of… trying to help the world be a better place, and accepting all that love he entrusted it with. And I don’t know if I can, Sláine, I don’t think I’m worth you wasting your time and effort on. I’m not worth you getting hurt for, and you still do get hurt!”

“…I already said this, Red. But don’t I get to decide whether or not its worthwhile?”

“If you say that, then who gets to decide what the value of your life is?!”

The stench of those flowers felt so cloying in her nose, and the leaves of the tree rustled in the breeze. At some point, Sláine felt her eyes get hot, and she closed them tightly, as if to distance herself from what was happening around her. She heard Red’s voice echo in her ears, asking her why she had decided everything was impossible just because a giant tree had told her it was, asking why she didn’t gone somewhere else to do the things she liked.

Why she hadn’t run away.

Sláine, quite honestly, had no reply to that. Because it felt like what she was supposed to do? Because she didn’t know how to do anything but try very, very hard at the task that was set in front of her?

It all had felt so inescapable. And there were people she hadn’t wanted to leave behind —

“You heard him, didn’t you? You heard him say he didn’t want to die. If I hadn’t been around — that’s why I don’t want to accept your help. That’s why I want to… stay,” Red admitted, and Sláine felt her slump. “That’s why I want to just admit that I’m a pretty terrible person and be left alone.”

It’s all about giving up, isn’t it? Sláine couldn’t help but think, remembering what it was like when she too had fallen. Just like Sláine had, Red was feeling left behind too, and when the things she’d cared about were so far ahead that she couldn’t even see them anymore… it felt like there’d been nothing to do but just stop the endless, useless running.

She realized that, while she’d meant to remove Red’s hands from her body, what she’d really just ended up doing was putting her palm over her knuckles. She looked down again, and thought about it for a moment.

“…If I try to be more conscientious of my own safety, will you agree to do the same for yourself?”

A pause. Red’s voice, stained with tears, was quite weak. “Huh?”

“You keep saying that you’re not worth getting hurt for. But isn’t that just… rejecting the feelings of the people who thought that you mattered? I didn’t know Janus, not as a person,” Sláine said. “But even if he thought you could do great things, even if he wanted you to fulfill some legacy, I think that… ultimately, he just wanted you to be able to be happy again. He wanted you to be able to love being alive like he had.”

Because of those who can still love due to everything I fought for, Sláine couldn’t help but remember. There is more hope in this world, and people striving towards a better future.

“If someone hadn’t cared enough about you to make sacrifices for you, then you wouldn’t be here right now, yelling at me to value myself more. So, if I do what you ask, and try to find value within myself, doesn’t that automatically mean that you have value to?”

“That’s — that’s not fair,” Red replied, struggling against the solidity in Sláine’s voice. “That’s really not fair.”

“I hardly ever play fair.”

“You — “

Sláine let her struggle for some time, before patting the hand on her stomach. “That you can hear the story of someone this pathetic, but still want to give them a hug, means a lot to me. Are you going to reject those feelings I have too?”

“You’re not pathetic, and you need to stop saying you are!”

“I won’t, unless you’re there to chastise me for it.”

There was a long, long silence.

“…Fine. You insufferable, awful, horrible, arrogant rabbit,” Red spat, and Sláine felt the woman release her. She didn’t look behind her, as requested, but she tried to imagine the kind of irritated expression Red might have on that luminescent face.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do, or how we’re going to get out of this, but I’ll — I’ll try to get out of here with you, if nothing else, to find some way to fuckin’ kill you for all of this damn bullshit.”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Sláine said, and somehow, the smile on her face felt just a little bit less fake.

>> Survive