Soulbound

7

The training ground wasn’t a place Avery expected. She thought it might be a room of stone, echoing like the Council chamber, or a hollow field filled with broken weapons and skeletal reminders of failure.

Instead, Kael led her into a place that was neither alive nor dead.

The air shimmered with ash-colored light, the ground a fractured plain of pale marble veined with black. Strange pillars jutted from the earth at odd angles, carved with sigils that pulsed faintly like dying stars. Shadows crawled over the marble surface, moving as if alive, waiting for mistakes to feed upon. Above, the sky was a flat canvas of gray, no sun, no moon, only the eternal hum of the Veil.

“This is where reapers are forged,” Kael said simply. His voice echoed low and steady, a contrast to the vast emptiness around them. He gestured with his scythe, the weapon catching faint, silvery light as if it fed on the Veil itself. “Here, hesitation gets you burned before you ever set foot in the real hunt again.”

Avery shifted, fingers tightening around the training scythe he had given her. The weapon felt alive, its weight unfamiliar, the curve of the blade whispering against her senses. It wasn’t just metal and edge—it pulsed with her sigil’s energy, responding faintly to her thoughts, but heavy with a demand: control me, or be consumed.

Kael circled her slowly, his eyes sharp, predatory. “Rule one. The scythe is not your friend. It doesn’t care about your feelings. It’s an extension of the Veil’s judgment, not your mercy.”

Avery bristled. “You make it sound like I have no choice.”

“You don’t,” Kael said flatly. He snapped his fingers, and the shadows stirred. From the cracks in the marble, figures began to crawl. Shades—thin, twisted forms of gray mist shaped like people, eyes hollow sockets, jaws opening in silent screams.

Avery’s chest tightened. They looked too human. Too real.

“Your first lesson,” Kael said, stepping back, “is whether you can cut down what looks like the living. Because that’s what you’ll face. Souls clinging to their humanity. Souls begging you for one more moment. And you can’t falter.”

The Shades hissed, circling her, their movements jerky but relentless.

Avery gripped the scythe with both hands, heart pounding. “They’re not real?”

“They’re echoes,” Kael replied. “But if they touch you, you’ll feel pain enough to remember.” His voice hardened. “Now move.”

The first Shade lunged, its clawed hand reaching for her throat. Avery swung wildly. The scythe whistled through the air, heavy, unbalanced in her grip. She clipped the Shade’s side—it shrieked, dissolving into ash—but the momentum spun her half around, leaving her exposed.

Another lunged. She barely ducked in time, stumbling across the marble, scythe dragging against the floor with a sharp ring. Her palms burned, sweat already slicking her grip.

“Pathetic,” Kael said coolly, his arms crossed. “You’re fighting the weapon instead of commanding it.”

Avery growled under her breath, adjusting her stance, remembering how he’d held his blade—balanced, fluid, like it weighed nothing. She tried again as another Shade rushed. This time, she steadied her arms, let the pull of the sigil guide her swing. The scythe’s edge sliced clean through the Shade’s torso, dispersing it in a burst of shadow.

The weapon hummed faintly in her hands, satisfied.

“Better,” Kael murmured.

But there were more. Always more. Three Shades rushed at once. Avery’s chest seized with panic. She spun, swinging wide, but the blade was too heavy, too slow. One Shade’s claws raked across her shoulder. She gasped as searing cold fire tore through her flesh. The pain was real—worse than real, like the memory of dying all over again.

Her knees buckled, but Kael’s voice cut through the haze.

“Get up, Avery!”

The command burned sharper than the wound. Avery forced herself upright, teeth clenched, vision blurring with pain and fury. She swung again, tighter this time, learning the rhythm. One Shade fell, then another, until only dust remained swirling in the air.

Breathing hard, she straightened, sweat running down her temples. Her shoulder throbbed, but the pain dulled, already fading under the Veil’s strange rules.

Kael stepped forward, his expression unreadable. He lifted her arm, studying the ragged wound. “You survived the strike,” he said quietly. “Good. But if that had been a Wraith, you’d already be gone.”

Avery yanked her arm free. “I’m not you,” she snapped. Her voice cracked with exhaustion and frustration. “I can’t just shut it all off. I can’t see something with a face and swing like it doesn’t matter.”

Kael’s eyes darkened. For a moment, he looked at her like he might lash out. Then, to her surprise, his tone softened.

“You think I don’t see faces?” His voice was low, almost bitter. “I see every one of them. And if I let myself stop to feel it, I’d already be lost.”

The words hung between them, heavy, tinged with something almost human in him. Almost.

Avery’s scythe pulsed in her grip, dragging her attention back to the Veil. The training ground was silent now, Shades gone, marble cracked beneath her feet. The sky above seemed darker, shadows thicker.

Kael followed her gaze, his expression tightening. “It stirs,” he said under his breath.

“What does?”

“The soul you lost.” His tone was grim, sharp as his blade. “It’s not gone—it’s feeding. It’ll grow stronger the longer it stays free, and the Wraiths will gather like carrion. If it evolves…” He shook his head once. “You don’t want to see what happens then.”

Avery’s stomach dropped. The guilt she’d been carrying twisted deeper, cold and sharp. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

Kael stepped closer, his presence looming. “That soul is your responsibility. And the Council won’t clean up your mess.” His eyes met hers, hard and relentless. “Next time we go out there, you don’t hesitate. Not for a second. Or you’ll become the monster you’re fighting.”

Avery’s breath caught. The memory of the Council’s warning replayed in her head: Fail too many times, and you will become a Wraith.

She tightened her grip on the scythe until her knuckles ached. Fear licked at her, but beneath it, something stronger sparked—a flicker of defiance, fragile but alive.

She met Kael’s gaze and nodded once. “Then teach me to be faster.”

For a heartbeat, something unreadable flickered in his eyes—approval, maybe, or just recognition that she wasn’t going to quit. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual coldness.

“Again,” Kael said, snapping his fingers. Shadows stirred. More Shades clawed their way from the marble, their hollow eyes turning toward her.

The ground trembled faintly, as if the Veil itself was watching.

And Avery lifted her scythe, ready to fight again.