Trial by Shadow

Avery stumbled through the Veil, the black fire sigil burning faintly in their palm. Kael followed silently, scythe slung over their shoulder like it weighed nothing at all.

“You still look like you might puke,” Kael muttered.

“I’m fine,” Avery snapped, voice cracking anyway. “I’m not—”

“Lying doesn’t help,” Kael interrupted. “Council wants to see if you can function under pressure. You failed your first claim—now you fix it.”

Avery’s stomach lurched. “Fix it? How?”

“You’re going after a Wraith,” Kael said, voice flat. “It’s feeding on a recently lost soul. You stop it before it destroys the cycle, or you don’t come back.”

Avery froze. “I—stop it? I barely survived the last one!”

Kael’s scythe tapped against the Veil’s cracked floor. “Then pay attention. Hesitation gets you eaten. Follow instructions. Survive. That’s your first lesson today.”

The Wraith they were hunting had already begun to stir, its form a mass of jagged shadows licking along the edges of the Veil. The faint glow of the lost soul pulsed somewhere inside it, frantic and small.

Avery swallowed. Their hands shook—but the mark burned, pulling faintly toward the soul. The sigil throbbed like it wanted them to act, a tether to this mission that was now life or death.

Kael crouched slightly, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll guide you—but not hold your hand. You do your part. Move when I say move. Strike when I say strike. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise what?” Avery asked, dread coiling in their chest.

Kael smirked faintly. “Otherwise you’ll become part of the Veil yourself.”

The Wraith shrieked, a sound that ripped through Avery’s chest. Shadows stretched and clawed at the floor. It was feeding. It was alive. And it was hungry.

Kael shifted their stance, scythe ready. “Now,” they ordered.

Avery’s heart pounded. Every instinct screamed to run. But the sigil on their hand pulsed. Tight. Sharp. Pulling them forward.

This time, there would be no hesitation.

The Wraith’s shriek tore through the Veil, ripping Avery’s chest as if the sound itself were claws. Shadows stretched across the floor, jagged and alive, clawing at the walls and ceiling of this distorted world. Somewhere inside, the lost soul thrashed, faint pulses of light blinking desperately like a heartbeat.

Avery’s palms burned where the sigil seared against their skin. It throbbed, pulled, demanded action, and Avery forced their legs to move. They followed Kael’s every word, every motion.

“Left!” Kael barked. The Wraith lunged. Avery jumped aside just in time, their foot landing on a shard of Veil-ground that threatened to collapse under them. The scythe’s shadow sliced past, cutting a chunk from the creature’s arm. The Wraith hissed, smoke curling from the wound, and Avery felt a flicker of confidence.

“Now, close!” Kael commanded.

Avery reached out, focusing on the soul trapped within the Wraith. The sigil flared bright against their palm. Threads of light stretched from them into the shadow mass. They tugged gently, holding their breath as the soul strained against its prison.

A second lunge from the Wraith caught Avery off guard. They stumbled, twisting the tether, and for a moment the soul wavered, almost free. Avery gritted their teeth and pulled harder, sweat stinging their eyes. One more tug, one more push, and they could do it—they could save it.

The Wraith shrieked again, louder this time, bending the space around them. Shadows coiled like snakes, whipping and snapping. Avery’s arms shook, the strain nearly unbearable, but they ignored it. They were so close. So close.

Then a sudden pulse, sharp and violent, shot through the sigil, throwing Avery backward. The soul flickered—and disappeared.

“No!” Avery screamed, lunging forward, but it was too late. The Wraith’s head tilted, jaws snapping. The lost soul’s faint light extinguished, sucked into the shadows. The Veil itself groaned.

Kael’s voice cut through the chaos. “Enough!”

The reaper leapt forward, scythe spinning in a graceful arc. The Wraith shrieked as the weapon tore into it, cutting deep. The beast recoiled and vanished with a final, echoing scream. Avery collapsed to their knees, chest heaving, eyes wide.

Kael stepped over them, scythe slung casually once more. “Look at you,” they muttered, voice tight with frustration. “You almost did it. Could have saved the soul. But no—you hesitated. And it’s gone.”

Avery stared at their trembling hands. “I—I tried! I pulled! I—”

“You didn’t finish,” Kael snapped, crouching so their pale eyes were level with Avery’s. “You hesitated like last time. That hesitation costs lives. Souls. Everything we hold together. This isn’t training. It’s reality.”

Avery flinched under the scythe’s shadow. “I can’t just—kill people! Even in the Veil, even if they’re already dead—”

Kael’s expression softened fractionally, a ghost of something human. Then it hardened again. “You can’t afford to think like that. Not here. Not ever. You want to survive? You want to do your job? Then you follow orders. Period.”

Avery swallowed hard, the weight of their failure pressing down like the night itself. “So… what now?”

Kael tapped the sigil on Avery’s hand. “Now you learn from it. We go back to the Council. They’ll want a report. They’ll want to see you’re capable of understanding the consequences. And if they think you’re a liability…” Kael’s smirk was humorless. “…you won’t get a second chance.”

Avery nodded, trembling, exhausted, and painfully aware that their mistakes had consequences far larger than themselves. Kael extended a hand to help them up, scythe resting on their shoulder.

“Welcome to being a reaper, rookie,” Kael said. “Where failure isn’t just embarrassing—it’s deadly.”

Avery took the hand, bracing themselves. The sigil pulsed, a reminder that this world had claimed them completely. And as they stepped toward the Council, Avery knew one thing for certain: they were already in too deep to turn back.