“Where you must go, what you must do, that was but a small taste of what is required to truly fight against the Abyss,” Galadrith’s voice pressed. “It knows no mercy. You do not have the luxury to falter.”

  Shut up, Mitch responded sharply to the soul sword.

  “Silence will not protect you from the truth,” Galadrith continued. “What you had to do–it is only the beginning. The Abyss has no room for doubt, nor patience or hesitation. It will swallow you whole if you allow yourself to linger in weakness.”

  He lay beside the fire, its warmth failing to chase the chill rooted deep inside. Rex curled against his body, the menacing beast turned to a snuggling, loyal dog. Mitch’s fingers moved absently, scratching behind the hound’s shadowy ears. The simple motion of petting Rex grounded him, but only barely. His other hand clenched and dug hardened nails into his palm.

  Flashes of broken bodies, cracked jars, and spilled souls tore through his mind like piercing glass. Faces twisted in pain and rage. A torrent of blood.

  They screamed for blood–my blood, Varaks.

  They’d rushed forward with rocks, spells, and anguish. And he had fought back. Killed them without mercy. Cut through bodies with exactness.

  It was easy. Galadrith had torn through as if they were nothing.

  But they weren’t nothing.

  Each swing had carved into him as deeply as it had into them. He had stomped on the jars they carried, his boots crushing glass. Souls, weak and scared, funneled into him.

  Settlement Amount: 354(+97) Souls, 338 Beast Souls, 0 Credits, 253(+181) Flesh.

  What am I becoming? What am I?

  Across the fire, Varak’s distorted hands worked efficiently, skewering fat Abyssal bugs with Sable’s wires and grilling them over the flames. The bugs oozed pungent juices that hissed and popped, their stink clinging to the air. Her brood clustered around her, clicking and chittering and crunching on bugs as they tried to mimic her low, rattling hum.

  One of the children jumped, almost too high, flirting dangerously close to the flames before bounding back into the huddle. The other Abyssal minions waited in the shadows, silent and unspeaking.

  Hathgar sat silently, normal arms resting limply on his lap as he stared into the fire. Mitch had seen his Skill in action. Flesh turned into formed metal to sweep the prisoners.

  Sable leaned against a crooked wall of stone a short distance away. Her arms were crossed, and her expression distant. She wasn’t looking at anything. Not the fire, not Mitch, not even Varak.

  Through their Abyssal Bind, Mitch felt the wall she had erected between them. She had shut him out, her feelings buried behind a barrier he couldn’t breach, even with his bond. He knew she was there. Just…locking him out.

  The crackling of fire and Varak’s humming filled the space, but it wasn’t peaceful.

  Another flash from the slaughter of freed prisoners hit him–his boot shattering a jar, the pale glow of a soul sucked into him. His blade slicing through flesh, cutting a swath through the ravenous crowd that didn’t understand who they attacked. The sound of glass hitting the floor a moment after their holder. Reaching for trapped souls behind unbroken jars he couldn’t get to.

  Clink. Clink.

  The sound wasn’t a memory.

  Mook shuffled quietly around the fire, cradling and then setting the remaining intact jars like sacred relics. His claws deliberately added each of them into a neat collection. His hunched, Abyssal form cast unsettling shadows as he worked.

  Mitch glanced at the gnome man and elf woman that had stood back and watched during his stand. They rested at their own fire, a ways away from him, in the cavern. The gnome’s crooked arm rested backward, fingers twitching towards his jar. The elf woman sat motionless, eyes unblinking as they watched Varak and Mook work. Her own jar rested untouched infront of her. Occasionally, one of Varak’s children would scurry over and try to offer them a burnt bug.

  His gaze shifted to the Warden, who lay crumpled on the ground. Bound and gagged and whimpers barely audible over the crackle and light activity. Occasionally, the Warden would send a frantic stare at Mitch, waiting for what was to come.

  I’ll deal with you in a bit.

  He felt the stares. Watching and waiting for him to address them.

  “Forty three jars,” Mook murmured. “All functional…Do you want them, Mitchell?”

  I missed at least forty three souls. Delivered into the Abyss.

  Mitch said nothing. Mook didn’t push, and retreated to search the cavern for more jars.

  “It’s time to talk, lad,” Hathgar said, his voice rough and low. “What in the Stars was that? What’s going on? Those people attacked ye’, but…ye’ fight like a bloody demon.” He gestured loosely at the fire as if the answers might come from its embers. “Skills like that, they don’t just come from nowhere.”

  Mitch didn’t look at him, keeping his eyes firmly on the flames. His fingers stilled on Rex’s fur.

  “What do you want me to say?” Mitch muttered, his voice heavy. “That I had no choice? That I did what I had to do?”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Aye,” Hathgar replied, sharper now. “But don’t insult me by pretendin’ it was just that. I’ve seen what choice looks like. What ye’ did…that wasn’t just survival. That was somethin’ else.” He gestured to his own arms, where he showed Mitch the wrought Abyssal iron gleaming faintly under his skin. “I know what torment does to a man, how it remakes ye’, but this—no bloody way. Yer too strong, too fast. That Shadowshroud of yers is damn near a monster on its own, and those Skills of yers...they don’t belong to someone who’s been fightin’ for a month. Cut them down like they were nothing.”

  Mitch squeezed Rex’s fur. “They weren’t nothing,” he snapped, his voice rising. “I didn’t want to—”

  “Didn’t want to?” Hathgar cut him off, his words biting. “Looked like ye’ wanted it to me. The way ye’ moved, the way ye’ fought…ye’ weren’t just defendin’. Aye, they attacked you, but that was....Bah…Ye’ were cuttin’ ‘em down like they didn’t matter.”

  Mitch shot to his feet, the movement jarring Rex, who let out a startled bark. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed. “They attacked Sable, you, me, Varak. They came at me! Don’t you fucking dare.”

  Hathgar stood as well, his smaller frame unyielding in the face of Mitch’s anger. “Aye, I’ll dare,” he growled. “What are ye’ gonna do? Kill me too? Someone ye’ called a brother? Go ahead, lad, if ye’ think that’s the answer.”

  Mitch faltered, his breath coming in uneven bursts. Rex pressed against his leg.

  Hathgar’s voice softened, “I’m on yer side, Mitch. I’ve told ye, I’ve got your fookin’ back, whatever it is that’s goin’ on. We all got our reasons to do what we do. Don’t I know I got some superstitious thoughts. Bloody hate the Abyss, cept for Rex and Varak. But yer keeping secrets, and they’re gonna drown ye’ if ye’ bloody let em. What’s the Abyss done to ye? What’s it made ye’? I told ye’ it does this, ain’t I?”

  Before Mitch could respond, Sable’s voice cut through. “He’s right.” She had pushed off the wall, her mismatched eyes burning with a mix of anger and something else. Something raw and uncertain.

  Her words rushed out. “You made me your Follower, Mitch. Do you even know what that means? Because I don’t. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be bound to someone who’s keeping you at arm’s length? You can’t tell me nothing, when you know what you do about me. You expect me to follow you? To trust you?” She stopped herself. “I can feel it, Mitch. The Abyssal Bind. You’ve tied me to you, and I don’t even know where my soul is or what I’m following.”

  Mitch looked away into the fire, unable to meet her eyes. Rex whimpered again. Mitch subconsciously pet him for comfort.

  Galadrith’s voice rumbled softly in his mind. “They question because they see a man. A man wielding power that scars the soul. Power meant to break and bind. They fear what they do not understand. As do you.”

  Shut up! You told me to attack! He responded mentally.

  “And I was correct,” Galadrith replied. “Do not mistake reluctance for righteousness. They would have torn you and your people apart. Now, this will become our test,” his voice flickered in a laugh. “To wild power with grace. Or destroy with abandon. The Abyss will consume either path, but only one leaves a man intact. I was once a man, and I was honorable. Perhaps I have something to learn as well.”

  Mitch exhaled sharply, banishing Galadrith’s words to the back of his mind. He turned back towards Sable and Hathgar. All the while, Mook listened in rapt, silent attention while Varak chomped on bugs. The elf and gnome watched the scene with fear written in their eyes from further down the cavern.

  Mitch’s voice finally broke the tense silence.

  “I didn’t ask for this,” he said, tone trembling with the weight of his frustration.

  Sable’s eyes narrowed as she stepped closer to him. “And yet, here you are. With us. With all this power. With…the debt.”

  Hathgar blinked, his brows furrowing. He tilted his head slightly. “Debt? What bloody debt?”

  Mitch’s shoulder stiffened as he fought the instinct to lash out. To push them away. As he always did when anyone got too close.

  “I’m not what you think I am.”

  Sable’s voice rose. “Then what are you? What is going on?” she demanded. “What does that mean, Mitch?”

  “What we think you are?” Hathgar echoed. “Lad, what in the bloody Stars does that mean?”

  Memories tore through his mind. Being murdered on a piss covered tile floor, the whisper of the Abyss, the Grimmers he stomped, the people he had just killed, the gnawing question etched into his Burden.

  Do you give up?

  It taunted him. He could say yes. End this current nightmare in favor of another.

  Rex pulled closer, his strong shadowy form radiating a warmth stronger than the fire. A strange calmness flowed through their bond, as though the creature told him to hold steady.

  Galadrith’s voice cut through, curious and ancient. “Truth is a sharp edge, wielded wisely or turned against the wielder. Speak now, Mitchell, not for them, but for the path you must carve. I too would see where this road leads.”

  Mitch exhaled shakily. “You won’t understand,” he said aloud.

  Hatghar scoffed, stepping closer. “Try me, lad. I’m here. I can handle it. Bloody well handled the blasted Pod. She,” He jerked a thumb in Sable’s direction. “Is a fookin’ Patchling. Ye’ got any idea what that’s like? Where her soul is kept? What the tales tell?”

  Sable’s gaze remained sharp, but Mitch felt their bond shift. The wall she’d built between them cracked. Letting him back in.

  Mitch glanced toward the gnome and elf. They waited, eyes locked onto their conversation. Mitch didn’t fear them hearing the conversation. Not when he knew he could deal with them if it went poorly. The thought made him shiver.

  My mind goes to violence right away.“Master strong. In…two way. Not just…big. See? Brood safe. Is…ok. That is good. Not all…bad.” Her tone was casual and dismissive, as though the entire conversation was unnecessary. She crunched on another bug with her mutated mouth.

  Mook tilted his head, his strange eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Ah,” he murmured reverently. “A Traveler. It explains…everything.” His tone held a sharp edge, like a scalpel peeling away flesh to reveal the truth beneath. “The signs were there from the start. Obvious, even.”

  The word hit like a hammer. Mitch’s shoulder’s stiffened, and the fire seemed to crackle louder in the ensuing silence.

  Hathgar’s eyes widened. Sable’s breath caught. They both took a step back. Even Varak stopped her crunching.

  Hathgar’s voice broke the silence like a crack of thunder.. “A Traveler?” Then louder, shaking the air. “A bloody fookin’ Traveler?!”

  The gnome and elf flinched audibly, their jars trembling in their hands. They huddled closer to their fire, as if it could protect them.

  Mitch said nothing as he met their eyes. The silence that followed swallowed everything.