The Way of the Soul Read Free Page B

certainly don’t believe in any of the other religions. They’re all false. You know very well the real god. I’ve met him. The Lord Harskill.”
    Reon had never seen her mother so angry. Barely moving her mouth, she said, “Don’t you ever speak that name again. Do you understand me? Never. I thought we were done with that when you were a child.”
    “You were done with it. Not me.”
    “He’s not real.”
    “I met him.”
    “Then he’s a demon trying to snatch your soul from the benevolence of Dulmul.”
    As the waiter delivered the fish, Reon stood. “Thanks for such a wonderfully supportive mother/daughter moment. And you can tell Brandon that if he wanted to date me, he should’ve asked me directly and not gone through my mother.”
    Back in the autocar, Reon punched the seat three times. The autocar chirped up, “This vehicle is property of Tro-new Services. Vandalizing this vehicle is against the law and will result in substantial fines and penalties. Please desist.”
    Reon knelt on the autocar’s floor and lowered her head. She closed her eyes and thought of the Lord Harskill. It had been a difficult fifteen years. Growing up, playing with friends, learning about her world, trying to enjoy life — all of it proved taxing when she knew the Lord waited for her to be ready for some undisclosed moment in time when she would be called upon to fulfill her task. To help save the world. Everything in her life not connected with preparing for that moment seemed frivolous.
    But fifteen years was a long time. Though he did return once, she had no idea nor promise when he would come again. What if he did not return for twenty more years? What if when he returned she was too old to fight for him? Her whole life would have been wasted. But the Lord Harskill had commanded her to do these things — who was she to question him?
    I shouldn’t let my mother get to me like this.
    The autocar dropped her off at the Gull University Student Center with a familiar chime and the usual statement. “I hope you enjoyed my driving. Please tap into Autoreviews and leave a 5-star rating. Have a pleasant day.”
    She headed back to her apartment. Her stomach gurgled — not from hunger, though. Whenever she had lunch with her mother, the unique brand of tension that woman created left Reon’s stomach in knots.
    She watched the students walking from class to class, building to building, lugging their bags of supplies. It seemed rather mundane now. Her education was important, as part of her preparation for the Lord Harskill, but all these other people — what did they need to learn for? Just so they could make money? They were all such a minuscule piece of a massive universe that cared nothing about what their brains could do.
    Shaking her head around the thought, Reon knew she needed to go punch a bag and spar for an hour. That would clear her mind. After, she would spend the evening praying to Lord Harskill and hope, like she did every night, that he would soon return. But first, she had to deal with her bubbling stomach.
    By the time she entered her apartment, her discomfort had become urgency. She rushed to the bathroom, thrust down her pants, and sat just in time. Even without eating any lunch, her body still found things to evacuate.
    As she cleaned up, she started to laugh softly. Here, more than anything, was proof that Dulmul was a fiction. Dulmul supposedly created everything to a specific and clear design. But Reon often thought that people were poorly designed. She could have done far better.
    “At least, I would’ve made crapping less of a messy business.” The sound of her words echoing in the small bathroom brought another smile to her face. No doubt about it — if Dulmul existed, he failed in the god department. If Reon could figure out that the body was inefficient, then a god should have done so long before he created everything.
    At least, Lord Harskill never claimed to have created the world.
    She flushed