Chapter 19
Nineteen
I’m sick for well over a day. At least, I think it’s a day. Whatever was in those Echoes came out of my mouth as vile-smelling black puss that soaked my straw bedmat and filled my cell with the smell of rotting corpses.
Callie talks me through it as much as she can. “You need to expel it all. Your body isn’t Soulren enough to process Echoes. So it’s rejecting them.”
I laugh bitterly before another wave of nausea hits. I doubt Falcen concerned himself with such a side effect. My body seizes as I retch into the bucket beside my mat.
Callie’s voice carries a note of amusement. “How many Echoes did you render?”
“Three,” I whisper, wiping black residue from my chin with shaking fingers. “He gave me three before I couldn’t... before I...”
My words dissolve into another violent heave. Nothing comes up this time except a thin stream of tarry fluid that burns my throat raw.
“Three?” Callie sounds genuinely shocked. “Nox below, Verily. Most initiates start with one. No wonder you’re purging so violently.”
Another heave roils through me. It’s thicker this time, almost gelatinous, with tiny glimmering flecks that remind me of stars in a pitch-black sky.
“Will it kill me?” I ask when I can breathe again.
“No. But you’ll wish you were dead for a while.”
Her words aren’t exactly comforting, but they’re honest. I curl into myself as another spasm hits, though milder this time.
“You need to distract yourself so you can get some sleep and recover. Got any books near you? Preferably the most mind-numbing, tedious volume you have.”
I groan, pushing myself up on weakened limbs to scan the multiple piles of books Falcen left me.
My vision blurs, making the titles swim before my eyes, but I manage to read.
“How about Fundamentals of Soul-Rendering: A Systematic Approach to Energy Transference? Because that’s all I’m able to reach. ”
“Perfect. Read that.”
After a prolonged moan, I manage to prop the book on my legs and open it.
“‘Chapter One: The soul is comprised of pure, radiant energy,’“ I read, “‘a luminous force that can be harnessed and manipulated by those with the innate gift of soul-rendering.’ Huh. Gift. That’s a nice way to put our curse.”
Callie snorts. “Right? More like a one-way ticket to misery and isolation.”
I agree. “Okay, next bit: ‘The strength and quality of a soul varies from person to person, determined by factors such as lineage, emotional intensity, and individual essence.’ Essence? What in Lux’s name is that supposed to mean?”
“Picture it like ... the flavor of your soul? The Verily-ness of Verily?”
That earns a genuine laugh from me.
eat.
The ember’s voice is faint, yet it’s becoming harder to ignore.
“Verily? You there?”
“Yes. Sorry. Where were we? Right. ‘More advanced techniques include infusing objects with soul-energy to create enhanced weapons, crop growth, lighting, spire cities, and Vehloria’s modern currency, soul tokens. Pain amplification and Voidspawn blood extraction are more experimental methods, yet have seen success among human subjects—’”
“Skip that part.” Callie interrupts.
I frown but do as she says, flipping through several pages. “‘Soulren must be cautious not to overextend their abilities, as excessive use can permanently damage the practitioner’s own soul.’”
Unbidden, an image of Falcen enters my mind, his veins blackening under his skin, growing under a bright path of fire until his face became unrecognizable…
I blink the image away, my stomach twisting.
“Have you ever seen it happen?” I ask through my gut’s empty churn. “A Soulren who overused their power?”
Callie goes quiet, then says, “Once. Back when I was still an initiate. There was this Soulren, Jelson. He was brilliant, one of the most promising students. But he became obsessed with pushing the limits of his abilities.”
Jelson. The name sounds familiar.
“They found him in the training ring, his skin ghostly white, black veins spider-webbing across his face. His eyes, they were dark pits, like all the light had been drained from them. They say his soul was depleted beyond repair.”
I push my brows together, unable to ignore the nagging at the back of my head. Jelson … Lyndsey—oh, gods! The innkeeper’s son!
“Is he still alive?” I ask, leaning closer to the wall between us. “Do you know?”
If Falcen could endure it, couldn’t others?
Eat, my ember demands, more insistent this time. I try to ignore the gnawing vacuum at my core, the way my soul aches to be filled.
“No,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. “They found his body a few days later, hanging in the courtyard. He couldn’t live with what he’d become.”
I shudder, trying to push the image from my mind. But it lingers, a dark smudge that refuses to dissipate.
HUNGRY, the ember whines, the ache in my middle sharpening to a knife’s point. I grit my teeth, trying to focus on the book in front of me. But the words swim before my eyes, blurring into meaningless shapes.
“Verily?” Callie’s voice cuts through the haze. “Are you alright?”
“I’m feeling better,” I lie, forcing a smile so that it hopefully shows through my voice.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” I reply.
“What was your life like? Before all this, I mean. Did you have a family? Friends?”
The question catches me off guard. It’s been so long since I’ve thought about my life before Falcen stole me away. The memories feel distant, like they belong to an isolated village girl who has no clue she’s about to earn a one-way sentence to the Resonance Academy.
“I had a mother,” I begin slowly. “And a grandmother. And a cat. They were crop pickers, like me. We didn’t have much, but we had each other.” A lump forms in my throat as I remember Mother’s kind eyes, her gentle smile. “Mother used to sing to me when I was scared.”
“Your mother sounds wonderful,” Callie says softly.
“She was. She died a little while ago.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that.”
Eat, it whispers again, more urgent now. Eat or wither away.
I slam the book shut, tossing it aside in frustration. “I can’t do this.”
I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the cold stone wall and willing myself to go to sleep. But on top of the lingering nausea, hunger chews at the lining of my stomach, a constant need that I can’t escape.
“I had an older sister,” Callie says suddenly. “Her name was Lileth.”
I open my eyes, turning my head toward the wall separating Callie and me.
“She manifested young.” Callie’s voice cracks. “When she was eight. They came for her in the middle of the night.”
Every village dreads it and prays that its children will be spared. But the Soulren always come, seeking out the strongest, the most vibrant souls to fuel their dark magick.
“I tried to stop them,” Callie continues, her voice thick with tears. “I begged them to take me instead. But they just laughed. I hadn’t yet showcased any affinity for souls yet, so they just dismissed me, but Lileth, she fought. Bit one of them in the forearm. It made him so angry that—”
Oh no. I pull my lips in before she even has to say it.
“He killed her. Right there in the field.”
“Callie,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
“I never told anyone that before. Not even friends at the academy. I couldn’t bear their judgment, their pity.”
I press my hand against the cold bricks.
Callie goes quiet, then says, “When I first arrived at the academy, I was so angry. At the Soulren, at the world, at myself. I blamed myself for not being strong enough to save her.”
I know that feeling all too well. The bitter sting of helplessness, of watching someone you love suffer and being powerless to stop it. “It wasn’t your fault. You were just a child.”
“I know that now. But back then, I let the anger consume me. I threw myself into my studies, determined to become the most powerful Soulren the academy had ever seen. I thought if I could just be strong enough, fast enough, smart enough, maybe I could make up for failing Lileth.”
“You are not responsible for their horrible actions,” I say.
“I had an older brother, too,” she adds, her voice fading like she’s beginning to tire. It makes me wonder, if I’m feeling the pangs of hunger and I’m newly feasting on souls, what must Callie be going through?
“He was taken when I was just two years old. I barely remember him. But can you imagine? Being the parents of three Soulren? Watching all of your children be collected for the academy against your will?”
I think of the innkeeper and her kind eyes. Her unbreakable hope that her son was still alive. Maybe it was a blessing my mother never had to witness my kidnapping. “No. I can’t.”
The air in my cell feels thicker, heavier with each passing moment. The hunger, the ember’s insistent calls, and Callie’s heart-wrenching story all press down on me, threatening to crush me beneath its weight.
I try to center myself, to find some semblance of calm amidst the chaos. But all I can see is Falcen’s face and the cold indifference in his eyes as he left me here to rot, the way he turned his back on me without a second glance.
The more I dwell on it, the more the anger builds, bubbling up inside me like a poisonous brew. It mixes with the hunger, the desperate ache in my soul, until I feel like I might burst from the sheer torture of it all.
“He could come back any moment,” Callie says, but her voice is gentle, understanding. “Your Elite. You’re waiting for him, aren’t you? Don’t. People like him? They don’t wait for anyone.”
I scowl at the dingy stone wall where her voice leaks through. “I’m not waiting for him. I’m just...” Just what? Hoping he’ll appear with an explanation? A way out? “I’ll prove myself without him.”
“Careful, Verily. That kind of thinking can be dangerous here. Elite Reaves isn’t ... he’s not what you think.”
“And what do I think?” I ask, genuinely curious how a girl who’s never seen me can read me so well.
“That he betrayed you. But trust me, he’s betrayed a lot of people. He’s only out for himself.”