Chapter 1: The Girl Who Could Hear Souls
Rain tapped softly against the windowpane, a rhythm that should've lulled Karen Lockwood to sleep. But sleep had become a distant memory ever since the voices started.
They weren't voices in the traditional sense. No one else heard them. They came from people's shadows, their breath, their memories. Some whispered. Others wept. One even screamed. She had learned not to flinch. Not in public, anyway.
At first, her parents thought it was a phase—an overactive imagination. When that excuse wore thin, they turned to medical explanations. Countless appointments. Dozens of specialists. MRI scans. Therapy. Pills.
None of it helped.
The only constant was the increasing strangeness: things moved when she was afraid, her reflection lingered when she turned away, and sometimes, the air around her shimmered like heat rising off tarmac—even in winter.
Then he came.
Joshua Ikemba.
He arrived on a Sunday, dressed in all black like a preacher or an undertaker. His smile was calm, practiced. His eyes, too old for his youthful face, studied her like one might a living puzzle.
"I'm here to help her," he had told her parents, his voice soft but unwavering. "What she's experiencing isn't a disease. It's a gift. One that must be nurtured… or it will consume her."
They were too desperate to object.
Karen didn't say goodbye. She didn't cry. She simply packed a bag, followed Joshua into the waiting black car, and never looked back. Her parents didn't chase her. Part of her thought they were relieved.
The journey was long. Too long. Roads became narrower, then vanished altogether. They drove into fog, into silence, into places the GPS didn't recognize. When she finally stepped out, her breath caught.
Lafrosa.
The capital of Soul Island.
It wasn't on any map. She knew because she had checked, twice. The city shimmered with ancient architecture and modern marvels, floating lanterns and spiraling towers, stone plazas and glowing glyphs etched into the streets. It was a place that seemed stitched together from dreams and nightmares.
At its heart was the Soul Academy.
A sprawling fortress of blackstone and silver-veined spires surrounded by crystalline barriers that pulsed like a heartbeat. It was alive. She could feel it in her bones.
Joshua didn't speak as they entered through massive soulsteel gates. Guards clad in gray armor and humming with spiritual energy nodded silently. Students—some as young as her, others older, sharper—glanced her way with curiosity or caution.
No one looked surprised.
Inside, the world grew stranger still.
"She's a latent," Karen heard one student whisper.
"No markings. No known lineage. But she sees…"
"Joshua brought her. That means she's special."
Joshua led her into a circular chamber. Marble floors. High dome. Inscribed with ancient runes that glowed dimly as she approached. Three individuals awaited them, seated on a raised platform.
The Spirit Tribunal.
Elder Soulbornes—towering figures of power and presence. Even sitting, their auras made the air thick, like wading through honey. One of them, a woman with skin like burnished copper and eyes that glowed amethyst, leaned forward.
"You see the souls, child?" she asked gently.
Karen nodded.
"You are Awakened. Raw. Unshaped. But… promising."
They gave her a uniform—a sleek black coat with silver thread lining the cuffs, the emblem of a rising flame stitched over the heart—and a dormitory assignment: 1st Year. Spirit Cycle One.
Her first day was a blur of overwhelming sights and even more overwhelming power.
There were others like her, but not quite. Most were born into this world. Trained since they could walk. Her roommates—Leslie and Marie, black-haired twins who moved in perfect synchronicity—were patient and kind, if a little unnerving. They showed her how to wear her Soul Band, how to sense energy threads, and how to navigate the Academy's shifting staircases.
Then there was Jim.
He bumped into her on her second morning. Literally. He mumbled an apology, looked up, and smiled. His soul pulsed like a heartbeat in the dark—a flicker of something raw and stormy.
She didn't smile back.
Not yet.
In classes, she learned of the Spirit Cycles, the essence of soul cultivation, the hierarchy of Soulbornes. The names of gods and monsters—the Pillars of Existence, the Elder Race, the Veil, the Council of Nine.
She learned the difference between a Soulbound Weapon and a Soul Construct, how to shape energy into shields, blades, wings. Most students struggled. Karen didn't.
Her gift—the thing they once called a sickness—flared like fire in her chest. Darkness obeyed her. Energy bent. Her body moved with unnatural grace, enhanced by instincts she didn't know she had. She was called a Spiritual Element Manipulator. Darkness was her affinity.
And then, during her first combat evaluation, it happened.
Cornered by a Third Spirit Cycle student who thought she was just a novelty, something snapped inside her.
The shadows writhed.
Her soul pulsed.
Her weapon formed—not forged, not summoned… born.
A great black scythe, etched with runes that glowed a deep violet. It screeched into existence with a voice like thunder swallowed by the void. The instructors gasped. Even the Elders took notice.
She didn't understand what it was. Not yet.
But the name whispered in her mind.
The Abyss.
It wasn't just a weapon.
It was alive.
---
That night, alone in her room, Karen stared at the reflection in her mirror. Pale skin. Black hair. Haunted eyes.
No longer sick. No longer normal.
A Soulborn, they called her now.
But she didn't care for titles.
She wanted strength.
Enough to never be helpless again.
Enough to survive.
Even if it meant embracing the monster inside.
....