Chapter 15
The Soul That Refuses to Yield
The silhouette bent its neck, eyes locking on Varka after slaughtering the last soldier. Red mist coiled like smoke, every breath sharp with iron. The clearing reeked of blood, scorched flesh, and rain's faint sweetness, failing to cleanse the carnage.
Varka almost pitied the dead. Almost. Not with the Empire's mark on their armor.
The girl stood apart, untouched by chaos. Hollow eyes, pale as ash. More ghost than human. No fear, no hope. Carter felt it first, a chill echoing inside Varka: he had slipped into her empty shell not long ago. Her void lingered in him.
Snezna staggered, clutching his mangled wrist. Blood poured from torn fingers. Each gasp rasped against his lungs.
He's dying… isn't he? Carter's panic fractured, jagged and dizzy in Varka's mind.
Varka met Snezna's gaze. A nod, grim and final. Mercy didn't exist here.
He knelt before the girl, eyes level with hers. His voice, soft as a whisper yet sharp as steel, cut through the storm:
"Do you want to live?"
Carter spun inside him, fragments of the girl's emptiness clinging like shadows. Her silence pressed against his mind, hollow and heavy.
The girl blinked slowly. Flat, lifeless voice:
"Doesn't matter."
Varka's chest tightened. Pity flickered, brief, almost human. Weakness is a chain, he thought. She wears it like armor—but it will drag her down. I break chains—for survival, for my goal, not hers.
Carter felt it too: alleys, hunger, staring into nothing for years. She's like me… no, worse… nothing left.
"Well, kid," Varka murmured, "then I choose. For me, not you. The Empire won't claim you. Nor that thing." He paused. "Forgive me—if forgiveness means anything here."
Almost human. Almost tender. Carter marveled at the contradiction: a blood-soaked warrior capable of softness.
The abomination stirred. Shadows rippled, liquid and vicious. Its scream tore the night as it lunged.
Snezna reacted first. One hand stretched, summoning a gale. Razor wind cleaved branches and flesh. Bones snapped. Blood sprayed the air. The monster faltered—just a heartbeat.
Varka seized the opening. He scooped the girl and hurled her off the cliff into the river below. Silent. Unresisting.
"Swim," he muttered, eyes tracking the foaming water. "Hell can wait… or perhaps it's already here."
The abomination froze. Its form flickered—three, four, five shapes stuttering across the clearing. Limbs twisted impossibly, then vanished.
Varka's mind spun. Illusions or multiplicity? No matter. In shadows, one strikes the root, not the branches. But if the root is endless… sever the trunk first.
Which is real? Dodge left? Right? Or am I already lost? Carter's thoughts splintered. Lost… everything lost… like her.
"Focus," Varka whispered. "The path to power is paved with calculated risks. This one… I'll turn to advantage."
A voice whispered in his mind: If I guess wrong, I die. If I guess right, I still die. Carter's panic clawed at him. Who even knows me? Not me… fragments… all fragments…
The godskin's gaze snapped back. Its scream—or laugh—shattered reality, a thousand unanswered prayers clawing at the world. Blood froze in Varka's veins. Adrenaline ignited every nerve.
Pain is fuel, he thought. Cold logic. Turn it to essence. Refine it. No room for regret.
It struck.
Faster than thought, faster than magic. Limbs lashed from every direction. Varka twisted—bone cracked, flesh split. Pain seared and burned through every nerve, yet he forced movement.
Shadowstep. Dark matter shields. Blood-fueled blasts. Each defense faltered, shattering. Each strike stole more—flesh, memory, spirit. Every dodge, every block, every counter measured, yet hopeless.
Tentacles carved ribs, back, thighs. Vision blurred, black spots devouring light. The ground itself seemed to shake with agony.
Ask Snezna… Carter thought. No answer. Life bled from him, gone.
Time fractured. Block. Dodge. Burn soul. Shadowstep. Always too slow. Shadows crept over the edges of sight, unrelenting.
A tentacle pierced his thigh like molten iron. Another ripped ribs and lung. Right eye gone. Each blow shredded him, fracturing memory and will.
He's breaking—me! Carter's mind screamed, trapped. Her void, her "doesn't matter"—all pressing, all consuming.
Varka roared, funnel straining, essence fraying. Tentacles shredded side, arm. Blood flared in shadow. Pain became calculation. Survival, instinct.
Essence is a tool, he thought, pragmatic amid agony. Break it. Reform it. Transcend, don't preserve.
He slammed into the earth. Crater formed. Rain fell cold and unrelenting, mixing with blood, washing heat from his skin.
Never thought it'd end like this. Death familiar—but not this. Absolute. Consuming. The world, oppressive, without mercy. Hope a faint glimmer, fading fast.
"Hold," Varka whispered. "Sacrifice. Always sacrifice. Give it—and gain what you can."
One thought burned:
If I die, I drag you down. Monster or god, you fall with me.
Snezna gone. Carter trembled in Varka, helpless. No escape… fragments… all breaking…
Despair pressed like damp earth. But Varka's will burned, unyielding. Despair is for the weak. He refined it into resolve. Power is eternal; weakness fleeting.
Rain softened briefly, whispering over the carnage. Varka clawed deeper—past funnel, past memory. Shadows bled. Blood flared. Every fragment of himself screamed as he tore barriers apart.
The godskin paused. Flickering forms, fractals of horror—watching.
For a breath, the world stilled. Rain the only sound. Varka reached his core, raw and vast.
"Break," he commanded, internal voice like forged steel. "And in breaking, ascend."
He shattered his name.
"Shade of Vaelthryn…" All will, memory, fury splintered. Light bled into shadow. Rain washed the world gray.
Time held its breath.
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