All Chapters of Soulbound: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The city had changed. Avery noticed it immediately, before she even stepped off the curb. Streetlights flickered like dying stars, their glow warped and uneven. Shadows clung unnaturally to walls and corners, stretching longer than physics allowed, curling around poles and trash cans as if tasting the air. People moved through it, oblivious—or pretending to be—but something was wrong. Their expressions were stiff, their movements jerky, and whispers trailed them like loose threads of sound that shouldn’t exist. Kael’s presence at her side grounded her, but even he didn’t speak as they moved through the corrupted streets. His eyes scanned constantly, catching details she would have missed: a hand twitching where it shouldn’t, a shadow lingering too long after its owner had moved, reflections that didn’t match reality. “They’re already here,” he said quietly, voice like gravel. “The corruption spreads faster than you can imagine. It doesn’t need to take every soul to control the city

The city was quieter now, but the calm was false. Avery moved down the cracked streets, scythe at her side, the faint pulse of the sigil on her palm echoing the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. Shadows lingered in corners, subtle and twitching, like smoke that refused to dissipate. Broken glass glittered under the flickering streetlights, and the faint hum of electricity sounded strained, as though the city itself were holding its breath. Kael walked beside her, silent and alert, eyes scanning the streets with the precision of a predator. He occasionally gestured, pointing to minor disturbances—an alley wall warped unnaturally, a lamppost casting multiple shadows, a puddle rippling though the air was still. Each anomaly was a sign of the corrupted soul’s touch, a reminder that the battle was far from over. Avery’s knees ached, and her arms burned from the repeated swings of her scythe. Sweat clung to her hair, her clothes damp with rain and exertion. She pressed her

The shard pulsed in the darkness like a heartbeat, faint but undeniable, embedded in a writhing mass of shadows at the center of the plaza. Avery’s pulse answered it, pounding in her chest as if some hidden tether had locked onto the fragment. She tightened her grip on the scythe. The air around it hummed, Veil energy vibrating against her skin. She had never felt so aware of the world pressing in—the static charge of corruption, the way the night air seemed to ripple with hunger, and the inexorable tug of the shard pulling at her very soul. Kael stood beside her, unreadable as always, his blade lowered but ready. “Do you feel it?” he asked quietly. Avery nodded, throat dry. “It’s… calling to me.” His eyes flicked toward her, sharp and intent. “That is not a call. It’s bait. It wants you closer.” Bait or not, Avery couldn’t look away. Every pulse of that shard carried something familiar, something that made her chest ache. She didn’t understand it, but she knew, with bone-de

The passage back to the Veil felt colder than usual. Shadows clung to Avery’s shoulders as she stepped through, her boots hitting the polished obsidian floor of the Council’s chamber with a sharp echo. The stillness of this place was jarring after the chaos of the city. Here, the air carried no corruption, no screaming mortals, no trembling earth. It was pristine and suffocating all at once. The chamber stretched upward into darkness, its domed ceiling disappearing into shadow. Dozens of pale thrones rose in a half-circle around the central dais, each occupied by a Council elder draped in robes the color of bone and midnight. Their eyes—silver, black, glowing—watched with unwavering focus as Avery and Kael approached. A ripple passed through the chamber as the Head Councilor, a towering figure named Marcellus, lifted his hand. “Reapers Kael and Avery. Step forward. The city stirs with corruption; our Seers tasted it even from here. Report.” Kael’s presence beside Avery was as st

The armory emptied slowly, the echo of footsteps fading until only silence remained. The strike team had dispersed to their individual chambers to prepare, leaving Avery and Kael alone amid the glint of steel and shadow. The air hung heavy with anticipation, the low hum of power from their weapons vibrating faintly through the floor. Avery lingered by the weapon rack, running a finger along the haft of her new scythe. Its surface felt cold, alive in a way that unsettled her. The silver etchings pulsed with a heartbeat that wasn’t hers. “You should rest,” Kael said behind her, his tone even, clipped as ever. She turned. He stood a few paces away, his scythe slung across his back, his armor catching the faint blue light. His expression was the same mask of control it always was, but his eyes — those storm-gray eyes — watched her too closely. “I can’t,” she said quietly. “If I close my eyes, I’ll feel it again. The tether.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “It’s stronger now. Lik