Soulbound

9

The summons came at dusk.

Avery felt it before she saw it: a pull at the mark burned into her palm, dragging like an invisible hook through her chest. She jerked upright from where she sat in the training yard, her scythe across her knees. The air shivered with the taste of iron and ash, and the shadows deepened unnaturally.

“They’re calling us,” Kael said flatly from the far side of the yard. He didn’t look surprised. His scythe was already in hand, its blade faintly glowing. “On your feet.”

The tug grew stronger, a weightless force pulling her toward a place she couldn’t see. Avery scrambled up, her heart hammering. She hated this part—the way her body wasn’t her own, the way she was dragged like a puppet through the corridors of the Veil.

The world folded. Shadows unspooled around her, and the ground gave way. She stumbled, and suddenly she was standing at the base of the Council chamber once more.

The room was colder than memory, vast and echoing, carved from obsidian stone. The ceiling stretched into darkness, never visible, and shadows seemed to breathe along the walls. Six thrones arched high above her, each one occupied by a figure cloaked in black so deep it swallowed light. Their eyes burned faintly with shifting colors—red, silver, gold, green, violet, white—like dying stars.

Avery’s knees wobbled under the weight of their gaze. She remembered too well the crushing force of their judgment the first time. Kael stepped forward without hesitation, head bowed but shoulders squared, as though their scrutiny meant nothing.

“You summon us,” Kael said, his voice carrying across the chamber.

The Council’s voices rose, a discordant chorus that seemed to come from every direction at once. “You failed.”

Avery flinched, guilt stabbing hot through her chest.

One figure leaned forward, eyes glowing a searing silver. “The corrupted soul you were tasked to reap has not only escaped—it feeds. It grows. Its corruption spreads.”

Another voice, low and resonant, added, “A novice’s weakness endangers the balance.”

Avery opened her mouth, desperate to defend herself, but her throat clamped shut. The memory of her hesitation burned: the way her scythe had trembled, her heart screaming not to cut, not to sever, until it was too late.

Kael’s voice cut through the chamber, sharp as a blade. “The failure was mine.”

Avery whipped her head toward him. His face was unreadable, eyes fixed on the Council.

“She is untrained,” Kael continued. “Unready. The decision to pair her against a corrupted soul was yours. Do not pretend otherwise.”

The chamber rippled with displeasure, shadows trembling along the walls. One of the cloaked figures hissed, “Careful, Kael. Pride treads close to insolence.”

Still, he did not lower his gaze. “You called me to shape her. Then let me. Condemn her too soon, and you lose more than a reaper. You lose a chance at one who might yet bend this Veil in ways you cannot.”

The words sent a chill through Avery. Bend the Veil? What did that even mean?

Silence reigned for a long moment. The Council shifted, whispering to each other in tones too low for human ears. Avery stood frozen, her heart pounding, the air pressing heavy on her shoulders.

At last, the violet-eyed figure spoke. “Very well. We grant you one chance. The corrupted soul festers in the mortal city where it died. Its presence unravels the boundary, spilling unrest into both realms.”

The green-eyed figure leaned forward, its voice sharp. “You will hunt it. Together. And this time… there will be no hesitation.”

Avery felt her stomach drop. Her hands curled into fists, the mark on her palm throbbing like an open wound.

“And if I fail again?” Her voice was hoarse, trembling, but the question broke free before she could swallow it.

The Council’s laughter came like a rustle of dry bones. “Then you will not return.”

The words rang like a verdict.

Kael stepped forward, his presence like a wall between Avery and their gaze. “She won’t fail.”

The silver-eyed figure tilted its head, voice soft with cruel amusement. “We will see.”

The shadows shifted again, and just like that, the weight of their stares vanished. The chamber dissolved around them, pulling Avery and Kael back through the fold of the Veil.

They landed hard in the training ground, Avery stumbling to keep her footing. Her chest was tight, her breath shallow, as if the Council’s words still pressed down on her.

“They’re going to kill me if I screw this up.” The whisper slipped out before she could stop it.

Kael turned to her, his face set in its usual granite mask. But his eyes—there was something there, something flickering beneath the surface.

“Then don’t screw it up,” he said.

“That’s not exactly helpful,” Avery snapped, her fear bubbling over into anger. “You heard them. No hesitation, no mistakes. I barely survived last time!”

Kael’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then you’ll have to stop being the girl who hesitates.”

Avery bit her lip, fists trembling at her sides. “You think I can’t do this.”

“I think,” Kael said slowly, “that you can. But belief means nothing if you don’t act.”

His words sank into her, heavy as the scythe at her side. She wanted to scream at him, argue, tell him he didn’t understand—but he did. She saw it in the hard lines of his face, in the shadow of his story from the night before.

The silence stretched until Kael finally added, softer, “Rest tonight. Tomorrow, we hunt.”

Avery looked down at the sigil on her palm, the mark glowing faintly like a brand. Her stomach churned with dread, but under it was a spark of something else.

Resolve.

Because if she didn’t claim that soul this time, it wouldn’t just be her death. It would be Kael’s too.

And maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t ready to lose him.