The Wicked Crown

CHAPTER 6

Vivienne would never wake up again in the living world.

But she did in the World of Roaming Souls.

Vivienne already knew that she would end up in the World of Roaming Souls. It was where everyone went. But she never thought that she would go so soon.

Vivienne knew why she was in this world, she knew for sure why she was. Evelyn had told her before she killed her. Evelyn had said that she wasn't a high-classer, wasn't a princess. She wasn't, because she spent so much time helping and interacting with the low-classers. If Evelyn could, she said that she would've made Vivienne a low-classer, somehow, if that was possible. But it wasn't. If she died, she could spend all the time she wanted with low-classers in the World of Roaming Souls.

Vivienne supposed that all that was left of her was her soul, now. She could still feel emotions, and she could still think.

Living as an immortal soul made Vivienne laugh. She was dead. Killed by the Cruel Princess of Death, wasn't she? What was the point of living when there were no real things to do? She could die again and again, get killed again and again, yet still be living in a way. She could do kind things repeatedly, but none of them would really have any impact in this spirit world. She was royal—she used to be, anyway, she had lived with silver blood in her veins, worn the crown on her head—but all those didn't matter anymore. Her kind acts won't even stay in people's minds, perhaps, after they died. They won't remember her. If her kind acts in the living world had an impact, and if the servants who received the kind acts lived a full life, they probably won't even remember them. Her kind acts were useless in this world. It wasn't like Vivienne had powers after she had died, it wasn't like she could send dead people back into the living world, and that she could still be so kind in the World of Roaming Souls.

If she could, that would be magnificent, wouldn't it.

If Vivienne ever returned to the living world out of some miraculous reason, before Evelyn died, Vivienne would never trust her again. No, it wasn't because Evelyn killed her. It was because Evelyn had harmed so many people, harmed them like a blow to the skull—except, not to the skull, but to the soul.

Their souls would be forever damaged. Healing wouldn't be necessary: it wouldn't work. Killing would only get rid of your body, and your soul would stay the same. It would be like living again but with a forever damaged feeling inside you if your soul was harmed.

That was what the Elders told Vivienne. Evelyn hadn't cared to even listen. Vivienne did, intently, and the Elders told her more and more until they ran out of things to tell her.

Those pieces of information had stayed with Vivienne forever.

Evelyn thought that Elders were just old people who lived for a long time, and they actually lacked real knowledge and experience, and just told you things that they made up.

Vivienne didn't think that.

Anyhow, she was dead. What could she do now?

Nothing.

That's why it was called the World of Roaming Souls. There was nothing you could do.

However virulent you were, you couldn't actually harm someone. If your soul wasn't damaged before you got killed, or before you died... then it couldn't get damaged here.

You were invincible and immortal here. You couldn't get harmed by poison or disease or weapons.

Even if you encountered Evelyn, she couldn't harm you here.

A soul was whatever you wanted to define it. For Vivienne it was the spirit, with the essence of her living, physical shape. She was still there, like a ghost, except it was in another world, and she wasn't haunting the living world.

The World of Roaming Souls was better than Vivienne had imagined it. She thought there would be just darkness. It was nothing like that.

It was bright and vivid, colours floating around like silk, clear and rich with warmth. There was never an ending space that she could walk through forever without reaching any sort of end. When Vivienne held up her hand tensely, her hand and arm which you could barely see, almost invisible, the colours would float around her hand... then there was blackness and you could see the colours no more. When Vivienne relaxed her hand, on the verge of dropping it to her side again, the colours would come back, and float around her.

It was nothing like her imagination, nor anything like the living world.

Only, Vivienne wished to see someone again. Perhaps someone that Evelyn had killed: what was it like to have a damaged soul, she wondered. What was it like to be killed by someone you hated so much, to be killed by someone from a different class?

In a way, she wanted to stay here forever, but she also wanted—needed to go back to the living world.

If she wasn't there for the servants, who would be?

And how many would die?