Once the Nine-Cycle Soul Return Needle formation was complete, Frank Yates’s vision shifted. To his spirit-enhanced eyes, the translucent gray shadow hovering over the little girl’s body—her fleeing Soul Essence—halted its ascent. It was no longer drifting toward the Gates of Hell, but it remained stubbornly detached, refusing to sink back into the physical vessel.
"It’s not enough," Frank thought, sweat trickling down his spine. "I need to force it back in."
He extended his left hand, fingers pressed tightly together, and hovered his palm just inches above the girl's forehead. To the onlookers, the gesture looked mystical, almost like a priest performing a last rite or a magician preparing a trick. Even the police officers, who were busy documenting the crash site, paused to stare.
The
