Soulbound

19

The armory emptied slowly, the echo of footsteps fading until only silence remained. The strike team had dispersed to their individual chambers to prepare, leaving Avery and Kael alone amid the glint of steel and shadow. The air hung heavy with anticipation, the low hum of power from their weapons vibrating faintly through the floor.

Avery lingered by the weapon rack, running a finger along the haft of her new scythe. Its surface felt cold, alive in a way that unsettled her. The silver etchings pulsed with a heartbeat that wasn’t hers.

“You should rest,” Kael said behind her, his tone even, clipped as ever.

She turned. He stood a few paces away, his scythe slung across his back, his armor catching the faint blue light. His expression was the same mask of control it always was, but his eyes — those storm-gray eyes — watched her too closely.

“I can’t,” she said quietly. “If I close my eyes, I’ll feel it again. The tether.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “It’s stronger now. Like it’s waiting for me to get closer.”

Kael’s jaw flexed, a muscle twitching. “That’s expected. You connected directly with the shard’s core. You made it aware of you.”

Avery gave a faint, bitter laugh. “Great. So now it knows my name and address.”

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but close enough that it caught her off guard. Then it was gone.

She hesitated, glancing down at the floor before speaking again. “Back in the Council chamber… you defended me. You didn’t have to.”

Kael’s gaze shifted away, the light catching the edge of his armor. “You misunderstand,” he said finally. “I defended our mission. You’re integral to it. Losing you would set us back.”

Her lips tightened. “So it’s just strategy.”

“Of course.” His tone was firm, but she heard the smallest crack beneath it — the kind that didn’t come from indifference but from control straining to hold.

Avery took a step closer. “You don’t lie well.”

Kael’s eyes flicked back to her, sharp as a blade. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched taut, fragile as glass.

Finally, he exhaled. “You’re too inexperienced to stand before the Council’s scrutiny alone. They would’ve torn you apart. I… did what was necessary.”

“Necessary,” she echoed softly, tilting her head. “That’s what you tell yourself so you don’t care?”

His gaze darkened, but he didn’t answer.

She sighed, turning her attention back to the scythe. “You could’ve let me fail. You didn’t.”

“Failure teaches nothing if it kills you first.”

She smirked faintly. “That almost sounded like concern.”

“It isn’t.”

Avery looked at him, really looked — the set of his shoulders, the slight tension in his stance, the way his hand rested near his weapon even now. Everything about him screamed discipline and detachment, but underneath, she sensed something restless. Something old.

“Kael,” she said quietly. “What happens if I lose control? If the tether… wins?”

He met her gaze. “Then you cease to be a reaper. You become the thing we hunt.”

The words were blunt, merciless. But she didn’t look away. “Would you kill me?”

His silence was answer enough.

She let out a slow breath. “At least you’re honest about it.”

Kael’s expression didn’t change, but his voice softened by a fraction. “You need to understand what’s at stake. The corruption doesn’t just twist souls — it feeds on them, burrows through memory and will until nothing human remains. Once it takes hold, there’s no returning.”

“Has it ever happened to a reaper before?” she asked.

His eyes flickered. “Once.”

Avery waited, sensing there was more. When he didn’t continue, she prodded gently. “Who?”

His shoulders stiffened. “A long time ago. Before your time here.”

“You knew them.”

He didn’t deny it. The silence that followed said enough.

The realization struck her — Kael’s restraint, his harshness, his cold instruction — it wasn’t just habit. It was armor. Built from loss.

She stepped closer again, lowering her voice. “You think that’ll happen to me.”

“I think,” he said slowly, “you’re standing too close to the fire and pretending not to feel the heat.”

Her lips parted in a quiet retort, but the words caught when she saw the flicker of something almost human in his eyes — fear, maybe, or memory.

Kael turned abruptly, picking up a fragment of her armor. “You didn’t fasten this properly.”

Before she could protest, he stepped behind her, the quiet rustle of his gloves against metal sending a strange shiver down her spine. His hands moved with precision, tightening the straps across her back, checking the fit of her shoulder guard. He worked in silence, the closeness making the air hum.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, close to her ear. “You’ll need to be faster out there. Don’t wait for orders. If you see an opening — take it.”

“I thought reapers worked in silence,” she said, barely above a whisper.

“They do. But you—” His hands paused at her collar clasp. “You think too much. You hesitate. That will kill you before the corruption ever does.”

Avery turned slightly, just enough to meet his gaze over her shoulder. “And what about you? Do you ever hesitate?”

His expression hardened again. “Not anymore.”

Something heavy lingered in the space between them — the ghosts of things unspoken. She wanted to ask what he meant, what made him stop hesitating. But his walls were up again, and she knew he wouldn’t let her see past them. Not yet.

He stepped back, finishing the final clasp on her armor. “When the time comes,” he said quietly, “don’t hesitate. Not even with me.”

Her chest tightened at the words. “Is that an order?”

His gaze met hers, steady, unreadable. “It’s survival.”

The faint hum of the summoning circle began to rise around them, the air thickening as the Veil responded to the strike team’s call. Avery gripped her scythe, the metal thrumming in rhythm with the tether in her chest.

As they turned toward the light gathering in the center of the room, she whispered, “I’ll try not to disappoint you.”

Kael’s reply was soft, almost lost beneath the rising wind. “You already haven’t.”

The light swallowed them then — two figures stepping into the unknown, bound by duty, haunted by the same thing that might destroy them both.