Soulbound

8

The training session dragged on until Avery’s muscles screamed. Sweat ran down her back, her grip raw against the scythe’s handle. Every swing grew heavier, every dodge slower, but Kael never called for a stop. The Shades kept coming, and each one forced her to fight harder just to stay on her feet.

When she finally collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath, Kael at last snapped his fingers. The Shades dissolved into smoke, their ash fading into the cracked marble floor. Silence rushed in, broken only by Avery’s ragged breathing and the low hum of the Veil overhead.

“Pathetic stamina,” Kael muttered, leaning his scythe against his shoulder. His voice was sharp but less biting than usual, like he wasn’t surprised she’d given out.

Avery pressed a hand to her burning chest. “Normal people… don’t spar with ghosts for hours.”

“You’re not normal anymore,” Kael replied simply.

She glared at him through sweat-soaked hair. “You keep saying that like I’m supposed to just accept it.”

Kael tilted his head, studying her. His pale eyes gleamed faintly, catching light that didn’t exist. “You will accept it. Or you’ll break. Those are the only two endings.”

Avery’s jaw tightened. She looked down at the scythe in her grip. It pulsed faintly with her sigil’s light, like a quiet reminder of the weight chained to her. She hated that it almost felt natural now—like a second heartbeat in her palm.

They sat in silence for a while, Kael standing tall and motionless as she struggled to steady her breathing. The air between them was thick, filled with unspoken things. Finally, Avery broke it.

“Kael…” Her voice was quieter, tentative. “How did you end up here?”

He didn’t answer at first. His eyes flicked away, scanning the shadowed pillars, as if the question hadn’t landed.

She pushed. “You expect me to swing a blade and stop caring about the people I’m cutting down, but… you were human once, right? You had a life. A death.”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “Not your concern.”

“It is my concern,” Avery shot back, surprising herself with the edge in her tone. “If you expect me to give up my humanity, then tell me why. Tell me what happened to you.”

The air stilled, the Veil almost holding its breath.

Kael’s fingers flexed along the shaft of his scythe. For a long time, he said nothing. Avery thought he might walk away entirely. But finally, his voice came low, roughened like stone dragged across stone.

“I was twenty-four,” he said. “A soldier. Or I thought I was. They called it war, but it was slaughter.”

Avery blinked. She hadn’t expected him to actually answer.

Kael’s eyes stayed fixed on the horizonless sky above. “I don’t remember who killed me. An enemy, a friend, it doesn’t matter. What I remember is the moment before. Lying in the mud, the rain soaking into my wounds, and knowing it was over. I begged.” His lip curled, bitter. “Not out loud, but inside. I begged to go back. To do it differently. To make it mean something.”

His grip tightened on the scythe until his knuckles went pale. “Instead, I woke up here. With a weapon in my hand and the Council telling me that begging means nothing.”

Avery’s throat closed. She hadn’t expected something so raw to come out of him. His voice was flat, but underneath it pulsed something sharp and broken.

“You begged too, didn’t you?” Kael’s gaze flicked to her, sudden and piercing. “When you died. I saw it in your eyes the first time you hesitated. That desperation. The wanting.”

Avery swallowed hard. She thought of the screech of metal, the blinding lights, the way her lungs refused to pull in air. The unfairness of it all. I wasn’t ready.

Her voice cracked. “Yeah. I begged.”

For the first time, Kael’s expression shifted—just slightly. A flicker of understanding softened the rigid line of his face. But then it was gone, replaced by his usual coldness.

“Then you already know,” he said quietly. “Every soul you take is begging the same way. And if you hesitate, you doom them to something worse than death.”

Avery stared at him, heart thudding. “Is that why you’re like this? Because you were one of them?”

His silence was answer enough.

For a moment, she wanted to push harder, to demand more of his story. But the look in his eyes stopped her. A wall of shadows, thick and unyielding. He had given her a piece of himself, and for now that was all he would allow.

Instead, she lowered her gaze to the scythe across her knees. “You think I can’t do this,” she whispered.

Kael didn’t answer immediately. He crouched in front of her, pale eyes sharp, unreadable. “I think you’ll keep trying to hold on to something that doesn’t exist anymore.” His tone was quiet, almost pitying. “And that’s what will kill you.”

Avery’s fingers tightened around the weapon. “Or maybe it’s what will save me.”

Their eyes locked, tension pulling taut between them. Kael looked like he might argue, but then a faint tremor shook the marble beneath them.

The air rippled. Shadows along the pillars shivered and stretched, pulled by something distant, hungry.

Kael rose instantly, scythe in hand, his entire body tense. “It’s moving again,” he said, voice low and sharp.

Avery stood, heart hammering. “The corrupted soul?”

His nod was grim. “It’s feeding more. Getting stronger. The Council won’t ignore it much longer.” His gaze flicked back to her, hard as steel. “And they’ll send you with me to clean it up.”

The thought sent ice down her spine. The last time, she had failed. Lost it. Let it slip into darkness. And now it was becoming something worse.

Her sigil burned hot against her palm, searing a reminder into her skin: It’s your burden.

Avery forced herself to straighten, gripping the scythe tight enough that the wood bit into her skin. Her voice trembled, but she steadied it.

“Then I’ll be ready.”

Kael studied her for a long moment, as if measuring whether she believed her own words. Finally, he gave a single, short nod.

“Rest while you can,” he said. “The next hunt won’t forgive you.”

And then he turned away, vanishing into the shadows at the edge of the training ground, leaving Avery alone with the echo of his past and the weight of what was coming.