Soulbound

18

The Armory was unlike anything Avery had ever seen. The chamber stretched wide and endless, its walls lined with racks of obsidian-forged weapons—scythes, glaives, blades with edges so sharp they shimmered like glass. The ceiling was lost in shadow, but faint lights pulsed like dying stars above, giving the room a cavernous, oppressive weight.

Avery followed Kael into the space, her boots echoing too loudly against the polished stone floor. Dozens of reapers moved around them, silent and purposeful, their robes brushing the ground like restless shadows. The air buzzed with a low, heavy energy—anticipation, maybe, or the restrained violence of beings who were made for nothing but the hunt.

At the far end of the hall stood four figures, distinct even among the gathering. Avery knew without asking that they were the ones chosen. The strike team.

“Eyes forward,” Kael murmured as they approached. His voice was cool, but there was an edge of steel beneath it. “They’ll test you the moment they look at you.”

Avery swallowed hard, forcing her chin up.

The first was a woman with fire in her eyes—literally. Emberlight flickered in her irises, and her dark hair was pulled back in a sharp braid. She leaned on a glaive with casual ease, but Avery could feel the heat rolling from her presence like a furnace barely contained.

“Kael,” she said, voice cutting and sharp. “So this is your novice.” Her gaze slid to Avery, unimpressed. “Small. Fragile.”

Before Avery could react, Kael answered flatly. “Liora, your mouth runs faster than your blade. Careful it doesn’t trip you.”

Liora smirked, but said no more.

Next was a man built like a wall. His arms were corded with muscle, his scythe strapped across his back like it weighed nothing. His skin was pale, his eyes calm and calculating, as though he were measuring every movement in the room.

“Darius,” Kael greeted. The man inclined his head. “Strategist.”

Darius’s gaze fell on Avery. Not disdain, not quite approval—just an appraisal, like he was deciding if she could be a piece worth moving on a board.

The third reaper made Avery’s skin prickle. They stood half in shadow, their form almost indistinct. Nyx. Even the name whispered wrong in her ears. Their hood was drawn low, and when they finally lifted their head, their eyes gleamed like void-pools. They didn’t speak, but the silence itself seemed deliberate, heavy, unsettling. Avery’s tether gave a faint thrum at their presence, and she instinctively shifted closer to Kael.

The fourth leaned against a weapon rack with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. Corin. His hair was pale as frost, his scythe resting across his shoulders in lazy arrogance.

“So this is her.” His voice was smooth, laced with mockery. “The Council’s little pet project.” His eyes swept over Avery slowly, dismissive. “Does she even know how to hold a blade without cutting herself?”

Heat flushed Avery’s cheeks. She opened her mouth, but Kael’s voice cut through the tension like steel.

“She holds well enough to still be standing after facing the shard. That’s more than most of you can say.”

Corin’s grin sharpened, but he didn’t reply.

From the shadows above, a figure descended—a Council emissary in robes that trailed mist. Their face was hidden, voice resonant as it filled the chamber.

“You four have been summoned as strike,” the emissary intoned. “The corrupted soul spreads its poison. Already it reaches into districts beyond the first. Your mission is simple in word, impossible in deed: find the shard, contain its growth, and sever it before the Veil itself fractures. Failure is not permitted.”

Their voice turned colder. “The novice remains tethered. She is your compass. Without her, you will not find the source.”

The four reapers glanced at Avery again—this time sharper, calculating. The weight of their stares pressed down on her until she forced her spine straighter.

Liora snorted. “A compass that can’t fight is dead weight.”

Kael’s reply was immediate. “Then she’ll learn. Or die trying.”

The emissary did not acknowledge the tension. “Prepare yourselves. Departure is imminent.” Then the figure dissolved into smoke, leaving silence in their wake.

Avery’s hands shook slightly as the group dispersed to the weapon racks. She followed Kael to their station, where an obsidian case waited. Inside lay a scythe unlike hers—sleek, etched with faint silver lines that glowed as she reached for it. Armor rested beside it: black plates fitted to her size, curved to protect but light enough not to hinder.

“Take it,” Kael instructed.

Avery lifted the weapon. It was heavier than her old scythe, humming faintly in her grip as though aware of her uncertainty. She fumbled with the balance, adjusting her stance.

“Wrong,” Kael muttered. He stepped behind her, hands firm on her shoulders as he corrected her posture. He adjusted her grip, the angle of her elbows. The contact was brief but grounding, steadying her racing pulse.

“Breathe,” he said softly. “It isn’t alive unless you let it be.”

Avery nodded, swallowing hard. She could feel the eyes of the others on her, their judgment thick in the air.

Corin’s voice cut through. “Hope you don’t trip over it, little compass. Would be a shame to lose our only map before we begin.”

Avery tightened her grip, glaring at him. She wanted to snap back, but Kael’s hand brushed her arm in warning. Hold your tongue. Not here.

The team finished strapping on weapons and armor. Darius methodically checked the edges of his blade. Liora spun her glaive in smooth arcs that shimmered with sparks. Nyx… simply watched. Avery could feel their gaze even when their head was turned.

When they gathered again at the center, the silence was thick with unspoken things. Kael’s presence anchored Avery, but doubt gnawed at her ribs. She was the weak link, the one everyone doubted. And yet—without her, the mission couldn’t even begin.

As they prepared to step into the summoning circle that would carry them back to the city, Nyx drifted closer. Avery stiffened as the hooded figure leaned down, their voice a whisper that crawled across her skin like frost.

“Do you really think the tether chose you by accident?”

Avery froze. Her mouth opened, but Nyx was already gone, slipping back into the group as though they had never spoken.

The tether pulsed hard, deep in her chest. And for the first time, Avery wondered if Nyx was right.