Reaping Book One: Ephesus: Reaping, #1

Korea

"S o, you have returned, Jug-eum . Is it finally time for you to collect me?" Sun-hee’s voice rasped wearily from the bed on the floor, the covers doing little to conceal the frailty of her form.

Good evening, Sun-hee. I stooped to sit beside her pallet, legs crossed beneath me, and adjusted the lengthy, black robes that I wore. Souls typically remained wearing the garment they had died in. I, however, had never worn anything upon my body. Instead, my form was shrouded in floor-length robes that concealed my thin frame.

I hadn’t thought Sun-hee would be conscious enough to see me this time, but she was stubborn and held on to life. Tonight is the night. But I have no need to collect you. You are ready to pass on to the Forever, I murmured softly, hands folded respectfully in my lap.

It wasn’t my custom to converse with those who were on the verge of death, unless they needed convincing to fade into the darkness that awaited them. Sun-hee was not one such needy soul, perfectly content to accept death when it finally came. But she had been awake each time I came to this home, and in those moments, she had spoken frankly and without concern to me.

It pleased me to find her awake now in these last minutes.

Sun-hee’s soul glowed warm and golden, coursing through her with a vitality that directly opposed the weakness of her mortal flesh. She would not last through the night, but this did not alter her peace.

Then you do an old lady a courtesy call to say farewell?

I smiled softly, shaking my head. Though I had welcomed the brief interactions with the woman who hung on the threshold of death, tonight I had not come to bid her goodbye.

It is my hope that in your passing, another soul will be ready to make the journey at last. My eyes drifted to the corner where a small form sat huddled, curled in on himself with nothing but a pair of dark eyes peering out from beneath dark bangs, the rest of his face hidden behind his knees.

Sun-hee too peered into the corner where my eyes had gone, straining to see the figure that was so plain to me but failing. While her presence at death’s door made me visible to her, she did not have the sight to see the others.

Won-shik? she asked, assuming it was her late husband, standing and watching over her even from his death.

No, I responded simply.

The old woman sighed with a weariness that went beyond her failing health. My Jiwon.

I nodded solemnly. During his life, and even at the time of his death, Jiwon’s aura had been as golden as Sun-hee’s—the example of a life well lived, with honesty, integrity, and all things that helped one pass on to the Forever without issue. But a hesitation to leave and clinging on to the life force of someone who still lived had held him back, dimming his soul, so now it was like the sun hidden behind a dark storm cloud.

The boy had died too young and been unable to leave his mother's side. For sixty years, I had returned to this household in the hopes of urging Jiwon to make the final ascent but never with any luck.

He refuses to leave your side, I explained.

The dark, wary eyes continued to watch me from the corner. Their constant vigil unceasing—unhindered by the aches and weariness of mortality.

Oh, Jiwon. My boy . . . my boy. Sun-hee's hand stretched out from her pallet, reaching toward the corner in a beckoning way.

The spirit eyed me untrustingly before scurrying like a beetle over to where his mother's hand lay, palm up on the floor. Ghost fingers drifted over the pale flesh, and a smile drifted over Sun-hee's face, like she could feel the gentle caress.

Don't let him stay here once I've gone, the elderly woman instructed me.

That is what I hope to prevent, I assured her.

Jiwon and I stared each other down, the boy giving no indication one way or the other.

Eomma, who are you speaking to? Sun-hee's eldest daughter was in the doorway, clutching the frame timidly while peering into the darkened room.

Death, Sun-hee rasped.

A sharp inhale of surprise came from the doorway, followed by a string of chants to ward off menacing spirits and my dark counterpart—mortality.

I rose from my place on the floor and moved to stand beside the dim spirit still trailing fingertips over Sun-hee’s pale palm. I held my hand out to him in offering.

Come, little one, it has been too long. It is time to follow her home.

Jiwon eyed me with trepidation, not moving.

Both of us looked as we heard it, that final rattle of life leaving Sun-hee. As the light went out of her body, her spirit only grew brighter, hovering over her old form for a moment, beckoning. Sun-hee's glow then passed through the ceiling and began the peaceful ascension to the Forever.

There were others in the room now, those of the living gathering around Sun-hee, weeping in grief as they checked her discarded body. I ignored them—the only one who was of my concern was the lost soul still cowering on the floor.

She's gone now Jiwon. If you wish to remain with her, you need to leave this realm and follow her.

The boy looked around the room, studying the faces of his well-aged siblings and the children they’d begot. For the first time, I could see the awareness on his face, that he was not a part of the life they lived here.

Finally, he nodded and stood. Turning to me, Jiwon waited for my hand to stretch out and rest upon his cheek. Murmuring the age-old words given to me by the Creator, I watched the sun break free of the storm cloud as his shine returned.

Go now. Shifting my hands into the deep sleeves of my robe, I watched the boy dissipate into nothing but his soul's glow and follow the path his mother had taken, up and out.

All around me, people mourned with tears and wailing. While it was a sorrowful sound, it was also a sweet refrain. Sun-hee had lived a long life, one which caused a great absence in the lives that had known her.

To be missed. To be remembered. What a miraculous thing that must be.

I liked to find the highest point in any city that I was in, block out the glow of its lights, and gaze up into the sky. If I looked hard enough and far enough, I could see past even the brightness of the stars to the soft blue glow of new souls descending and the warm golden hum of the experienced souls returning. It was a pleasant way to remind myself that I was connected to all of this in some small way, being the only one on earth to witness their arrival.

Once I’d had my fill of watching the burning souls travelling to and fro, I would return to the world at my feet. Searching for the names that called me, dim spirits of those trapped here in this realm and refusing to move on into their deep sleep or transition. Tonight however, I was not turning from the sky. Instead I wondered which of the bright lights drifting up might be Sun-hee and Jiwon. Mother and son, reunited at last. Sun-hee, who never forgot the child she had lost but found any opportunity to speak of the boy who had died after only nine short years of life. And Jiwon, who felt his mother's love for him so strongly, he hadn't been able to leave her side, even in death.

Humans were capable of such depths of emotion. It was something that I contemplated with interest and an inability to fully comprehend. I, who had no conscious memory of life because I had never made it that far, had never felt a bond created between myself and another living soul.

I sometimes felt fondness for those souls who I visited the most. The ones such as Jiwon, who clung onto their former lives and needed a great deal of coaxing before they were willing to let go. But that ‘fondness’ was not something that swept me away on a wave of sorrow in the moments of their final passing. Their connections were with the living they had left behind, not with me.

Perhaps there were some things that could only be understood through the act of living.

Tonight, the stars were alive with a bright shimmer, their gaseous essence competing with the travelling souls for most breathtaking. Did the Creator miss them when they left the Forever to journey down to earth and live their short human lives? Or did it bring great joy?

My gaze was captured by a particularly bright light falling through the dark heavens. This one descended with purpose, its final destination already chosen. As it drew closer, I could see it more clearly, how this one seemed to twinkle—a visual embodiment of laughter and glee. I smiled at the sight of it, and when the soul drifted closer to earth, falling in this same area of Wonju-mok, I was up on my feet to follow it.

Typically, I was not concerned with the beginning stages of life. Souls only became my priority if they refused to ascend when their time came. However, there was something in the twinkle that caught my attention and drew me forward. I found myself overcome with a need to know where the twinkling soul was going.