✦ CHAPTER FIVE
The Soul That Should Not Speak
The Citadel shattered into alarm.
A sound like a bell forged from thunder rang through every hall, every corridor. The floor trembled beneath Eryndor's feet. The mist outside the windows swirled into violent spirals.
B O O M.
Soul-lanterns suspended above the grand atrium flickered wildly, shadows jerking erratically inside them.
Eryndor stumbled backward from the balcony, heart slamming against his ribs.
The chained soul vanished — slipping into the fog like ink dissolving in water.
A voice boomed across the Citadel.
"LOCKDOWN. ALL TRAINEES TO THEIR QUARTERS. DO NOT INTERACT WITH THE DISTURBANCE."
Seris appeared as if carved out of the darkness, grip like steel closing around Eryndor's arm.
"What did you do?" they demanded.
"I— I didn't do anything!" Eryndor stammered. "It appeared. It spoke to me."
Seris's face went pale beneath the violet flame.
"It spoke to you?"
"Yes."
"That's impossible."
A second voice swept through the hall — deeper, ancient, resonant enough to shake the walls.
"Find the anomaly."
Kaelith.
Seris cursed under their breath. "We need to go. Now."
They dragged Eryndor through the corridor, their usual calm replaced with controlled panic.
Every torch guttered. The shadows themselves looked nervous.
Eryndor's voice cracked. "Why is everyone panicking? What is that thing?"
Seris didn't answer. Not until they rounded a corner and the path ahead twisted downward into a stairwell. Their voice dropped to a razor whisper.
"That soul should not exist."
Eryndor swallowed hard. "Why?"
Seris hesitated — then said the words like a confession.
"Because chained souls are not the dead."
Eryndor blinked. "What?"
"They are the un-dying."
Seris pushed him toward a hidden alcove. They slid their palm across a rune on the wall; it lit beneath their touch and opened a chamber — a small, stone room barely large enough for two.
"You need to stay here."
Eryndor stepped inside, confused. "Wait— why are you helping me? If the High Reaper finds me—"
Seris grabbed his collar, pulling him close.
"I am not helping you," they hissed. "I am preventing a catastrophe."
Eryndor stared, breath hitched.
Seris continued, expression fierce.
"Kaelith will destroy anything that touches a chained soul. Even a trainee."
"Destroy," Eryndor repeated, voice small. "Not punish. Destroy."
Seris didn't deny it.
They released him and stepped back, turning to leave. The room began to seal shut.
"Seris—!"
Seris paused, hand pressed against the edge of the sliding stone door.
"Do not listen to it," they said. "Do not think about it. It wants freedom, and it will use you to—"
They stopped.
Their eyes widened.
The torches outside the alcove abruptly died.
Darkness swallowed the hall.
And then the screaming started.
Shadows writhed along the walls, twisting into clawed shapes. Trainees ran through the hallway, but every sound was cut short as if devoured mid-breath.
Eryndor felt a presence behind him.
No.
He turned slowly.
Chains materialized from the darkness — spectral and cold — wrapping around a shape that had no form and every form at once.
You hide from them.
Wise.
Eryndor stumbled backward until his spine pressed against the wall.
"You need to leave me alone—"
I cannot.
The voice slithered into his mind.
You heard me.
You saw me.
We are connected now.
The chains shifted, rattling like distant thunder.
Eryndor forced himself to speak. "Why me?"
Because you are not like them.
The chained soul leaned closer, and the air froze to ice.
You are not a Reaper.
You are something far worse.
Eryndor shook his head violently. "No. No, I am not—"
You were chosen. Not by Kaelith.
By the Veil itself.
Something inside Eryndor cracked open at those words — the same crack he felt when he first held a dying soul, when the scythe appeared without command.
The voice softened.
You don't have to belong to death.
You can command it.
Eryndor's pulse roared in his ears.
"No."
Chains snapped — another link breaking.
Yes.
The stone door slid open — Seris stood there, scythe drawn, face pale with horror.
"Eryndor— step away from it."
Eryndor couldn't move.
Seris threw their hand out, shadows curling around Eryndor's arm to pull him free—
And every lantern in the Citadel shattered at once.
The chained soul vanished.
When Eryndor could breathe again, he stood in the middle of the hallway. Soul-glass littered the floor like fallen stars. Trainees and instructors alike stared at him with fear he had never seen directed at him before.
Kaelith appeared at the end of the corridor.
He did not walk. He arrived.
Shadows bent toward him.
His gaze locked on Eryndor.
"Bring him to me."
Two armored Reapers seized Eryndor by the arms. Seris moved forward in protest, but Kaelith raised one hand and Seris froze mid-step — body immobilized.
Eryndor thrashed. "Kaelith, it's not me—!"
Kaelith's voice was quiet, deadly.
"You spoke to the chained soul."
"I didn't— it came to me!"
"That is worse."
Kaelith leaned close, his voice soft enough only Eryndor could hear.
"Do you know what happens to those who hear it?"
Eryndor shook his head.
"They break."
Seris struggled against the invisible force binding them. "High Reaper— he didn't seek it out! That matters!"
Kaelith did not spare them a glance.
"No. What matters is that it chose him."
Eryndor's blood turned cold.
Kaelith stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"You are either a threat…"
He lifted his hand.
"…or a weapon."
Eryndor's vision blurred.
Kaelith smiled.
"And I intend to find out which."