Page 48 of A Soul’s Awakening

I watched the uneven sidewalk of Front Street move past under amber streetlamps, narrow lanes flanked by squat brick storefronts, their windows etched with frost. The sentient magic stirred inside me, uneasy and icy, crawling through my veins with the taste of something unsettling lingering in the air. Ahead, the junction with Derby Street opened into a wider cobblestone stretch near the old square, with shadowed facades on each corner where small snowbanks were piled. Even in winter’s quiet, downtown remained busy with the after work crowd of bundled figures crossing the intersection, their footsteps leaving damp trails where their boots met the bricks.

“Something’s not right.” The magic in my chest churned and snapped, crawling through me like a warning I couldn’t ignore.

“Were you not just listening to me? That’s literally what I just said!” Stella grunted.

It was near a battered brick wall beside a darkened café that was closed for the evening, a place we had passed countless times tonight, that something finally caught my eye—a spray-painted mural on the side of a building. Thick strokes of black and rust-red paint cut through one another in sharp angles and spirals, the lines warped just enough to look careless. Anyone else would’ve dismissed it as messy artwork.

I replayed that night Ren and I had come back from the club and bumped into Sly as vandals were painting a similar mural. These paintings had a strikingly similar art style … and the people they depicted?

“Stop the car!”

Ren slammed on the brakes, the car behind us honking as it suddenly swerved around us. “What is it?” He pulled off to the side, powering over a small snowbank to fit into a parking spot too small for his car.

“That … that mural.” I pointed, already hopping out the door, boots skidding on icy asphalt as I crossed the sidewalk. The others jumped out of the car and trailed behind me.

“What about it?” Ivy cocked her head as if changing her viewing angle would reveal some hidden message.

“Looks like some doodle from an aspiring artist whose talent didn’t get the memo.” Stella stared at the artwork in front of her, failing to see it for what it really was. “Wait, I’m getting bits and pieces of a young guy with blonde hair and blue eyes. Did you commission someone to paint your portrait? Because I’d ask for your money back.”

“No. Look harder.” My chest tightened as I analyzed the wall. The longer I looked, the more the shapes aligned. The disproportionate face had a snarling mouth and aggressive stare. But beneath the curves of his nose, the sharp angles and slashes of his eyes and jaw, circles nested inside one another. Angles converged toward a central point. Tiny runes hid in paint drips and cracks. “This isn’t some amateur drawing. The lines, the shapes … they’re runes! It’s a fucking magic array!”

I took off my glove, running a hand down the rough brick. The paint glowed with my touch. It was faint, with lines lighting up like veins under skin. From the array’s center, thin filaments of light spilled outward, racing along the ground and vanishing down the side streets, slipping beneath doors, curving around corners.

My blood ran cold.

“Oh, fuck. I think I just activated it,” I said as I saw half the city light up from a distance. It was followed by screams erupting from all around me.

“What the fuck did you do?” Stella stepped in front of Ivy, summoning flower petals that swirled around them chaotically.

I shook my head. “I … I don’t know! I just touched it!”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. “Markus?” At first there was nothing but a static, muffled noise. “Are you there? What’s going on? We found this magic array …”

“It’s not just one, Theo.” I could hear commotion going on in the background as Markus responded. His voice was shaking, his breathing labored. It sounded like he might have been running. “They’re all over the fucking city, and they’re connected to the underworld. The Syndicate never planned on transferring the phantoms in a convoy, they’re going to send them through these transportation arrays!” The phone suddenly went silent. It sounded like Markus and the others had their own problems to deal with. We were on our own.

Unease coiled in my chest, tightening with every pulse of magic thick in the air. A low hum swelled into a vibration that shook the brick beneath my boots, resonating through my bones. It was calling to me, insistent and insidious, and my own magic couldn’t help but answer. The response twisted into a tight, uneasy knot, clawing at my chest like it wanted to tear itself free.

“Everyone, run!” I shouted, pushing my friends back and garnering some strange looks from those passing by. A shockwave of light and sound rippled outward from the array. Pedestrians froze mid-step, gasps and startled cries erupting from the crowd of people nearby.

My magic was screaming now, thrumming and sharp. A woman rushed out of a nearby restaurant, clutching her coat as she pointed at me and shouted, “He did it! I saw him through the window! That man and those filthy demons! Call the police!”

Several people pulled out their phones and started dialing, some recording.

Another man lurched out from behind her, trembling just enough to feign fear, but the smirk curling Sly’s lips told a different story. His posse fanned out behind him, shadows moving with a predator’s patience across the cracked pavement. “I’ve seen them before,” Sly hissed, voice sharp and venomous, all false panic. “That demon … he did this to me!” He pointed to the swollen bruise and black eye on his face. “I came out of the club the other night and saw them roaming the streets, up to no good spray painting buildings.” He jabbed a finger at the empty lot, his words echoing off the concrete. “I confronted them … and when I told them to stop, I was attacked! It’s all on video!”

My stomach twisted. I could see it now … the lies, the exaggeration, the calculated fear meant to manipulate. Every fiber in me screamed that Sly was baiting me, drawing me out, daring me to react. It was just like what had happened when the Syndicate had set me up for burning down Carson’s Pizza or poisoning the food supply at Emberheart Place. They were trying once again to pin me into a corner so that I had no choice but to concede and assist the Syndicate.

Little did they know, I had already chosen that plan.

Ren’s hand slammed onto my shoulder, hard, dragging me back toward the array. “Don’t let it bother you,” he snapped, pulling me across the icy cobblestones. “Your emotions can’t spiral out of control or Alex won’t be able to rein you in. Right now, their minds are as warped as these phantoms. The only thing we can do is stand between them and the danger, whether they want us to or not.”

The hum from the graffiti didn’t fade. It grew louder, deeper, vibrating through the bricks, the ground, even the bones in my chest. Shadows along the street twisted and elongated, and the air seemed to warp around the patterns on the wall. Then I felt it: the presence of something else, something cold, vengeful, and hungry.

“W-what’s that?” Someone called out, and upon seeing the crazed half-ghosts converging like a horde of zombies, the crowd reacted instantly. Pedestrians screamed and scattered, slipping on the icy bricks, knocking into one another, scrambling to lock themselves inside any store still open.

“The array … it’s summoning the phantoms and pulling them through!” Ivy called out as a vengeful phantom emerged from the shadows and lunged at her. With a burst of power, red flowers swirled through the chilly air, Stella’s magic sending the phantom airborne and knocking into a young woman behind her.

“You … you monster!” the victim trembled, her gaze fixed on Ivy.