Another Soul

When the lost soul's eyes finally reopened, he was greeted by rays of sunlight breaking through the oaken canopy like heavenly blades. It was a calming sight. 

He felt better than he ought to have, given what he'd just been through. The gem was still cradled in his upturned palm, though its glow had faded. Its resting complexion was not dissimilar to a ruby, if slightly darker. 

The lost soul rose to a seated position and took in his surroundings. The forest was quiet, save for a light breeze that rustled the hanging foliage above. The smell of wood-smoke lingered in the air. It was faint, but nostalgic to the lost soul's senses. 

After a deep, nasal breath, he stood and retrieved Ripper from the spot he had slain the tree-beast. Its remains were now a mound of charcoal and white ash amidst the forest opening; the opening caused by the rampaging beast itself. Broken trunks lay in several directions, and tops of many trees were snapped or barren of branches. 

As he inspected the aftermath, an unexpected voice sounded from behind him. "Jack?" it said, as more of a question than calling out a name. Their voice was fair and clear: almost feminine. 

Another flood of images blinded the lost soul's vision. Books sprawled out over a table far too large to see over, as if he was looking through the eyes of a child: he realised he was. Parchment covered in equations and formulae, an education fit for the spawn of royals and nobility. A gruellingly strict routine meant for soldiers, not children... Beatings of the brutalist kind for the smallest of mistakes. To be wrong was wrong itself.  

The lost soul came to with a new sense of self-familiarity. He hadn't regained his memories, but a part of himself had returned. An uncomfortable burning sensation now covered his back in a strange pattern. It subsided momentarily. He carefully peered over his shoulder, but not enough to see who had spoken. 

Then, even to his own surprise, the lost soul himself spoke. "Who's Jack?" he asked. His voice was deep. Deep and commanding. Deep and overpowering. It was the echo of absolute authority. 

The stalker shifted on the spot under its weight and swallowed audibly enough for the lost soul to hear. 

"Well," said the stalker, regaining his composure. "It's either your name, or the name of whoever engraved it on your back." 

The lost soul slowly reached behind his neck with a hand, gently caressing his shoulder blades. As he passed over several scar-like mounds and indents, he could feel the tip of a J. The scar must have covered his entire back, he realised. After touching it, he understood. Jack was his name. It resonated with him. Strangely, it filled him with a rage that he had to consciously suppress, lest he lose himself. 

The stalker spoke before Jack could respond. "You have no memories?" 

"You do?" asked Jack in riposte. 

The fft of a loosened arrow was the last thing Jack heard before his vision went dark. Shortly after, the heavenly blades of the sun's rays blessed him once again, forcing his eyes open. 

Jack didn't gasp or jolt this time as he returned to life. It didn't feel natural for him to panic. He was still the same soul, but he was no longer lost. He'd found a single piece of who he was. And it was so powerful, that for the time being, he had forgotten fear. 

After rising to a seated position, Jack realised where he had resurrected. "Not the beach," he muttered, in his deep tone, pivoting his head around to take note of all the small details around him. His new gaze was cunning, calculating. 

The smouldering heap of the tree-beast's remains still lay ahead of him, and the scent of wood-smoke continued to linger. 

After standing, he realised he was still holding the red gem. And it was glowing. Though not quite as bright as when he pulled it from the tree-giant's chest. A faint power continuously seeped from it and into his hand. 

Once he reacquired Ripper, Jack, with the newfound familiarity of his body and its senses, heard a nocking arrow: the scraping of its wooden shaft along the bow's rest. 

"Jack?" said the same voice from before. 

"Perhaps," said Jack, who attempted to turn around when the stalker spoke again to stop him. "Don't... Move," he said and swallowed hard.

Jack edged back and gestured with his hands in surrender, Ripper still held tightly in his right, and the gem in his left. 

"Perhaps'?" added the stalker. "You have no memories?" 

"Hit my head..." Jack replied, "they're still a bit fuzzy." 

"Liar." 

"Why do my memories matter?" asked Jack, quickly and slightly agitated. 

"You're too dangerous as you are now," replied the stalker. 

"I sense no malice from you," argued Jack, "yet you'd kill me without the slightest thought?" 

The stalker paused pensively. Calculatingly. "Strange," he said. "It seeps from your every pore," and the fft of a loosened arrow caused Jack to flinch slightly. Not because he was afraid of dying. He just wasn't used to it yet. His vision went black, and he awoke face up in the forest like before. 

He sighed. 

After retracing his steps to collect Ripper for a third time, the stalker inevitably notched an arrow behind him. 

"Jack?" said the stalker. Jack swung around quickly. "Don't move!" the archer commanded. 

He ignored the stalkers warning, and an arrow was loosened immediately, but before it landed, Ripper tore it from its fight: its feather and tip falling separately to the ground somewhere behind him. 

Jack charged the stalker with a deep roar, and the stalker aimed his bow: an arrow already notched. A blue, incandescent light coated the projectile before it flew towards him, splitting into several different arrows of pure energy. 

Ripper intercepted the main projectile, but the others had changed trajectory mid-flight. They all found flesh, diving into Jack's chest with a heavy spectral power behind them. 

Winded, Jack jolted and staggered a few feet backward before falling onto his back. The magical arrows faded, leaving him with six bleeding wounds, two of which were around his heart. 

The stalker slowly approached his kill, their face hidden by a brown hood, another arrow notched, and Its head aimed at Jack's. 

"In your next life," warned the stalker, "do not try that again." 

Before Jack even had the chance to chew on the stalker's words, the arrow loosened and pierced his skull.