Page 8 of A Soul’s Awakening

It was the first time she had looked up at me, her face so covered in dirt and grime that only the blue of her eyes shone through, startlingly vivid against the layers of filth. She hesitantly reached out to take the jacket, flashing a series of burn marks that marred her arm.

I crouched down next to her, nodding to the scars. “That looks painful. I can’t do much about the scarring, but my magic can heal the fresher wounds. Can I do that for you?”

I didn’t press for an immediate answer, but then with a quiet whimper, she held out her arm. It wasn’t just fresh burn marks I saw, but scars and scabs from previous injuries not yet healed. My heart went out to this kid. What had the Syndicate been doing to her this whole time?

“It might feel a little tingly and cold, but I promise it won’t hurt.”

My fingertips gently hovered over the scorched and bumpy skin on her arm, sending in small pulses of magic and being cautious not to touch and frighten the girl. Whenever I got too close, she’d flinch and I would pause, but eventually the blistered skin softened and the redness faded.

“There. All done. How does it feel?”

She marveled at the healed skin, a mumble of awe passing through her lips. She looked up at me, tears in her eyes, and said her first words to me. “Alex.”

“Alex. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Alex. How old are you?”

“N … nineteen.”

She was so young, and the thought landed pretty hard in my mind. She should have been attending school, hanging out with friends and laughing … not stuck in a dark prison cell being treated like a lab rat.

Thinking of something, I tapped my fingers to my lips and flicked them outward. A small flame sparked to life above my hand, wobbling before steadying. It gave off a subtle heat that warmed the space between us.

“Well, that’s cool.” I couldn’t tell if Jordan was being sarcastic or actually intrigued. “What kind of magic is that?”

“Sign language magic,” I answered, as Alex attempted to catch the flame in my palm. “My sister is deaf, so she can’t speak spells or use magic the same way others can. She taught me a few things. It’s not my best ability, but I use it from time to time. This one gives off warmth. The flame is just for show, though. It won’t hurt.”

“I wish it could create some food and water,” Marin sighed. “They only feed us once a day, and the food is barely edible.”

“So, why are you two here?” I stood up from the floor and walked over toward the bars.

Leon had given me some context about the underveil, and our conversation with Alistair helped me understand a bit about what was going on, but I needed to hear their stories. It was Marin who shared hers first. “This place is known as the underveil,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the strain underneath it, “a hidden realm within the underworld. Think of it like a private island for the Syndicate to do as they please. It’s protected from everywhere else, allowing both the living and the dead to survive here.”

That would have explained Brie’s presence at the bar. She was probably caught sneaking into the underworld, and dumped here to be trapped like everyone else.

Marin paused, and I could hear the faint shift of movement from the cell beside mine. “Most that pass through here came from troubled pasts,” she continued. “Some tried to sneak into the underworld and got caught by rift wardens. Others who couldn’t control their magic were promised help, the Syndicate showering them with lies that they could fix all their magic problems.” A short, humorless breath left her, soft but edged with something worn down by repetition. “And some of us,” she added more quietly, “had no other choice, forced into this life to protect someone we cared about. By the time I realized what they really wanted from me …” Her voice thinned for a moment, but didn’t break. “I was already a prisoner. No way out. No one was coming for me.”

“I’ve been here like … six or seven years,” Jordan added.

“Six or seven years?” I gasped. “Why haven’t they sold either of you at the auction? What about a demon named Ren? Do you know if he’s been here at all?” I couldn’t see inside most of the other cells, but no one else had bothered to join our conversation.

“It’s hard to tell time down here.” Jordan shrugged. “I’m their guinea pig. My magic flared to life when I was in an accident. I died, actually, but in the heat of the moment, I realized I didn’t want to let go. I came back to life, and the Syndicate praised my ability as something that could be studied to heal broken magic. At first, I agreed to the tests and experiments, but when it became too much, they wouldn’t let me leave. I learned then that they told my family I died, then I was locked up and they bound me with these chains. I’ve been stuck here ever since. The name Ren doesn’t ring a bell though.”

I sighed, leaning my back against the cold concrete wall. I supposed it was good news that he hadn’t been sold off or killed.

“My ability temporarily stops time,” Marin chimed in. “The Syndicate used my family against me. My child was sick, and no one could find a cure to prevent her death. The Syndicate approached me and said they’re working on experimental magic, and that my ability to stop time could in theory stop the progression of my child’s disease. Naturally, I agreed to help. But they won’t let me leave either. I don’t know if my little girl is even still alive, but they said they’ll stop treating her if I ever leave here.”

“I can’t even imagine … I’m so sorry.” I dragged a hand down my face.

“I guess it wasn’t all bad,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I watched my magic save countless people. Children who were too sick to survive, parents who thought they were about to bury their sons and daughters, families who got years together they never should have had.” Her voice softened at the memory. “It made me feel like what I was going through meant something.”

The silence that followed stretched on for several seconds. “But the more they experimented on me, the weaker my magic became. It stopped regenerating. Piece by piece, they took it until there was almost nothing left.” She laughed bitterly. “In the end, they didn't need me anymore. They recreated my magic and turned it into a potion that slows movement and dulls the senses. Now I'm only brought in when they need help subduing someone who won't cooperate.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I knew the Syndicate was bad news, but this—this went past cruelty into something colder, more deliberate. This wasn’t just about me escaping anymore. I forced myself to breathe through the weight pressing down on me, to think past the haze.

“So, how do we get out of here?” The words came out in an unconvincing tone.

“Get out of here?” Jordan cackled. “Sorry, buddy, but there’s no escaping this place.”

I reached out and brushed one of the metal bars, wondering if I could corrode it with my magic. As I expected, a sharp jolt of current snapped through my fingertips, racing up my arm. Clenching my fist, something felt off. A burning ache crept up my arm, spreading through my chest like venom. My magic recoiled, twisting in protest as something foreign seeped into it … and for a moment silver flashed in my veins.