Today is an important day.

After decades of isolation, I have convinced myself to test the strength of my resolve. That itself has been a struggle. I've been afraid to be near civilization, knowing temptation might overpower my tenuous self-control.

Two months ago, I made my way north, where the skies are often veiled with clouds, keeping a comfortable shade over the landscape. Sunlight is harsh to my pale skin and eyes. Here, I am free to roam at my leisure. The nearest town is Nikom, situated between two mountain ranges and encompassed by lush forests, all of which I've familiarized myself with, learning every possible path and passage in and out of the area. Nothing must come as a surprise if I am to succeed in my endeavor.

For the past few weeks, I have watched the town from a distance. Not more than three hundred people reside within its walls. They live simply, taking care of the needs of everyone around them. They know the faces and businesses of each of their neighbors, which will make it impossible for a stranger like me to remain unnoticed. Yet, their generosity might be enough to keep them from turning me away. Over time they might even grow accustomed to me, though the process will be slow and meticulous. This is necessary, especially for me.

Every soul I encounter has an aura that is visible to my eyes. Its warmth touches me, giving brief respite to my emptiness. I cannot help but be drawn in. Will I ever become immune to its allure? If I cannot escape what I am, I am determined to conquer it. This is the thought that drives me onward.

Donning my hooded cloak, I exit my sturdy hovel situated deep in the shade of the trees and head toward the western edge of the forest.

Today I will enter the town and attempt to purchase goods at the general store, even though food is not a necessity for me. My body no longer requires the nourishment. I don't get ill and I haven't aged since that fateful day. I look like a young man in the beginnings of adulthood, though inside I feel ancient with weariness. That is yet another thing I must hide so I may appear normal like everyone else. And since I've kept myself away from people for almost three decades, I need the practice.

Coins jingle in my pocket as I traverse the leaf-strewn path. I duck beneath low branches, hearing distant birds making their morning calls. The sounds stop as I draw near to their nests. Animals have a keen sense of who is lurking about. They know what I am. Most people are easier to fool as long as I am careful. There are some, through years of training and perfecting a few simple spells, who are able to see the subtle signs.

Noble-lords.

This group of wealthy elite makes it their duty to hunt the abominations of the world, being heralded as heroes for their efforts. They distinguish the monsters from the men by looking into the eyes. There, they can see a difference. A faint ring of red surrounds the irises of the Soulless, as if we suffer from a lack of sleep. In truth, it's because the soul is ripped out through the eyes, leaving the distinguishing mark in its wake. Most people don't notice the abnormality. Ironically, it's more prominent at night. But a discerning look into my pale blue eyes would tell a Noble-lord exactly what I am.

If captured, I would be subjected to their spells. My mind would be stolen, rendering me helpless. I'd become nothing more than a slave, doomed to do their bidding, helping them capture more of my kind. I've heard rumors that the second change can make a Soulless even more dangerous. If this happens, the Soulless' limbs are severed and his useless torso is tossed into the sea or a deep pit to exist in misery for eternity. We Soulless, however, are not easily captured.

A few advantages come with our curse. Heightened senses, speed, strength. And we can usually tell when we're being hunted by all but the most seasoned of Noble-lords. They used to be much more successful, utilizing the unique skills of people who were able to see what we are without any sign or clue. The Sikari. They are gone now, pursued and killed by the Soulless more than a century ago. That hasn't stopped the Noble-lords from continuing the hunt.

Here in the less-inhabited north, I'm relatively safe. For now.

The town comes into view as I leave the cover of the forest. Clouds blanket the sky, giving me leave to lower my hood. Without direct sunlight, I appear as normal as any man. Pushing strands of black hair away from my face, I walk with my head high as I pass through the open gate.

I smell bread. I'm sure the scent once made my mouth water. Now it has little effect. I gaze from one side of the main street to the other, seeing shop owners through their windows, preparing for a day of business. I stop in front of the general store. A tremor of nerves runs through my stomach. I climb the steps and reach out to open the door. A bell jingles overhead.

The shop is empty. The owner must be in one of the back rooms. I suspect I've arrived earlier than his regular customers. Trying to appear as casual as possible, I start perusing through the merchandise, keeping my ears sharp.

“Good morning, sir,” a jolly voice says behind me.

I glance back, offering what I hope is a friendly smile. “Good morning,” I say, doing my best to ignore the inviting glow of his aura. “I wish to purchase some of your fine goods.”

He gives me a look as if I've said something odd. I suppose my greeting was a bit formal. “Very well,” the man says. “Let me know if you need help with anything.”

He busies himself with some barrels near the counter. I walk around again, taking mental notes of the items I believe normal people would buy. Sugar, flour, oats, leather, candles, spices, and tools. I pick up a sack of flour and a bundle of dark-brown leather that gives off a heady scent of tannin. Taking my items to the counter, I fish out my coins. The shopkeeper, seeing my readiness, joins me. He totals the price.

“That will be five Silvers.”

I stiffen. None of my coins are silver. I don't recall the equivalency for what I have. Feeling the man's eyes on me, I set my handful of coins on the counter. The man pauses before scooping up all but three of my copper and bronze pieces.

As he puts his share into a metal box, he says, “You're not one of us, are you?”

A wave of alarm washes through me. Dozens of thoughts race around my mind, including the strong possibility that I'll have to kill this man to maintain my secret. The urge to pounce knocks the breath from my lungs. My muscles tense and I feel the monster within me growl.

“I'd guess you're from the south,” the man continues, unaware of his imminent demise. “Haven't seen these coins in years.”

His words somehow penetrate my feral brain. He doesn't know my secret. He only meant I'm not a northerner. Calming myself takes great effort. “Yes,” I manage to say, my voice hoarse. “I came to the north for a more peaceful life.”

The man nods, chuckling. “Wish I could find that. Are you boarding with someone in town? Widow Swen, perhaps? She takes in the rare traveler for a price.”

I don't like all the questions, yet I can't afford to incite any suspicion. “No, I have a hut in the forest. I . . . enjoy the scent of pine.”

“Well, she's an excellent cook should you change your mind. Just look for the big house around the bend. And if you need some work, Jemson the stable master could use a hand. Tell him Ory sent you if you're interested.”

I thank him, though I have no intention of pursuing either offer. I'm not ready to be near people full time, and horses would sense my abnormality right away. It's best if I remain in the forest.

With my purchases in hand, I leave the shop feeling rather good about the experience—except the brief moment when I nearly took the man's life and perhaps his soul as well. A sprig of confidence has sprouted and I decide to linger in town a bit longer.

More people are out now. Many curious eyes follow me. Once in a while, I see a person I recognize from my distant investigations. Or, rather, an aura I recognize. Everyone is different, whether by color or brightness. Children, I've discovered, are usually the most bright and pure. The older a person is, the more faded his aura. Much of it is based on the way they've lived their lives.

It's always the first thing I notice when I see a person. It might be wise to train my eyes to focus on faces instead. I pause on the side of the street, out of the way, and fix my attention on two men across from me. It takes great concentration to look past their glows enough to see the features of their faces. One man is thin and bony, his eyes set close together. The other man is similar, though with more flesh in his cheeks. I assume they're related. Brothers, perhaps? A tiny pang hits me in the chest. I've often wondered if I once had a brother or a sister. I must have had a family; one I cannot remember. It doesn't matter now.

I practice my face-watching a while longer, pleased with my progress, before retracing my steps to the open gate and making my way home.

I look at the sack of flour, not sure what to do with it now that it's mine. I should have gotten the leather alone. I set the sack in the corner of my hut to deal with later. The bundle of leather will become a new sheath for my knife. I set to work, cutting the necessary shapes and saving the leftover strips to stitch everything together.

Within a few hours, the project is complete. I slide the blade through the opening. The stiffness of the leather will ease over time. Satisfied, I attach it to my belt.

Tomorrow I will return to Nikom with the flour and give it to someone anonymously. I'd hate for it to go to waste.

I leave the hut and make my way to the edge of the forest, this time to the northern side, which is closer. I've made a habit of watching the sky just after sunset to see the painting of colors. With the added texture and depth from the abundant clouds, the scene is always different.

I like to think I did this in my former life. I suppose one benefit of not remembering my past is that I can create one to include whatever I choose. The possibilities are there, but I never delve too deeply. My life is already too much of a lie.

Pushing these thoughts aside, I rest on my back, picking out images in the clouds until there's not enough light to distinguish one from another. A few stars peek through the gaps. An unexpected calm settles over me. For this small stretch of time, I'm not running from or fighting against my curse. I'm simply here. I'd almost dare call it peacefulness. I shut my eyes, eager to hold in these feelings for as long as possible.