Page 51 of A Soul’s Awakening

My stomach dropped. Everyone was down. Every single one of them unmoving and unconscious. There were bodies everywhere, the pedestrians caught in the crossfire sprayed across the brick.

What had I done?

I tried to step toward Ren, but the array anchored me in place. The connection running through my body had become too strong. I could feel it winding around my magic like chains.

The city trembled beneath my feet. I stared at the widening wound above Salem, completely invisible under a starry night sky, but I felt it there, my helplessness settling in my chest like a stone.

Every choice I made was making things worse. I had saved the phantoms, but at what cost?

Then, through the roar of the magic, I heard a voice.

I can end this, the female voice said softly. Her presence coiled around my thoughts like a hand around my throat. The pain. The chaos. All of it. You don’t have to watch them die.

“Please … end this,” I spoke out loud, tears slipping down my cheeks. My heart was frantically hammering inside my chest, my breathing erratic. “They’re not a part of this! They don’t deserve to suffer!”

A malicious giggle echoed in my thoughts. You tried so hard, always putting yourself above others. It’s time you put yourself first.

The thought didn’t feel foreign, it felt reasonable.

You’re exhausted, came the soft realization, warm and intimate. Yes, I was exhausted. You’ve done more than enough. Won’t you come with me and rest?

I swallowed, my hands trembling against the pavement. Something about the calm voice felt like it didn’t belong. But my body leaned into it anyway, desperate to make this right.

Come, now. Follow my voice. Your work here is done.

Somehow, I stood up and started stumbling as I followed the melodic sound of my salvation, but where I was going I had no idea.

23

“You poor thing.” The woman gently patted my forehead and tsked. I was sitting on a folding chair, letting her clean up a few minor scrapes and the blood that had trickled from my mouth and nose. “You must be cold and hungry. When I’m done here, we’ll get you a change of clothes and something to eat. How does that sound?”

The woman looked harmless, the kind of person people trusted without thinking twice. She was young with soft features, an easy symmetry that drew the eye without demanding attention. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves around her face in effortless beauty. She had a strange shade of icy-silver eyes that were clear, too clear, and were framed by long lashes that fluttered with every blink. She was wearing pastel colors, a simple blouse and cardigan paired with dark jeans and practical shoes. Everything about her invited trust and loyalty, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling there was something dangerous lingering underneath.

“There. All done.” She placed a bloody cotton ball on the table next to her. “Oh, I never introduced myself. I’m Mandy.”

I tried to say my name, but the dryness in my throat only allowed me to cough.

“Here, have some water.” She handed me a plastic cup, but I didn’t drink it.

“F-friends?” I rasped.

“They’re fine for now,” Mandy gathered the dirty supplies on the table.

“For now?” I studied this mysterious woman more closely. There was something vaguely familiar about her that I couldn’t seem to place.

“I said they’re fine. Now drink. You need to stay hydrated.” A sharp pain lanced through my head, and I sipped the water she gave me. I wanted to press her more about what had happened, but as she took my hand and led me into the hallway, I felt the urge to ask her about something else instead.

“Where am I?”

The walls were a pale, peeling gray, streaked with rust where water had leaked through the roof years ago. The floor was cold concrete, pitted and stained, and the faint tang of salt and mold hung in the air. Pipes ran along the ceiling, some wrapped in fraying insulation, their occasional drip echoing through the emptiness. Everything about the place smelled of abandonment, of work left undone decades ago.

Several people passed by as we traveled down the long hallway that stretched before us, lit by flickering fluorescent bulbs that buzzed like cicadas. Men, women, children, and the elderly. Some of them were wearing those black rift warden vests, others had lab coats, and yet most of them were dressed casually.

“A sanctuary,” she said like I had just entered heaven. Her gaze drifted past me, distant. “Everyone here has a past and a purpose. It’s a safe place for them to go when the world rejects them for the magic they have.”

“Uh huh. And what’s my purpose? How did I get here?” We reached the end of the hallway, a set of double doors now standing before us. She opened them, and the first thing that hit me was the smell of coffee and grilled food; a comforting, mundane smell that somewhat melted the tension in my shoulders.

“The people here are fighting for a cause, just like you. And they need your help. Will you help them?”