Pogue straightened. His throat bobbed as if he weren’t just swallowing down his words . . . but my presence.
“The cave runs deep.” He nodded into the blackness. “Branches out into others. You’re to use your Soulsayer ability for sight, nothing else. Focus. Ground yourself.” Voice hardening, the mentor returned. “I’ll be deep in one of the offshoots. Wait five minutes. Then come find me.”
He spun on his feet without another word, vanishing into the pitch-black void.
“Wait,” I called after him. “How areyougoing to see anything?”
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. Something flickered in his eyes. Not ice this time, but something quiet and sad.
“I was born in the dark,” he said softly, as if falling into a distant memory. “Learned to thrive in it. It’ll be like spending time with an old friend.”
Then, the shadows swallowed him whole.
The silence constricted around me like a too-tight blanket. I let my heartbeat slow and my mind clear.
Ground yourself, I reminded. So I did.
A heavy sorrow fell over me, thick and aching. But I realized it wasn’t mine. It coated my skin like a cream soaking in, entering my bloodstream. This washispain. My ability had reached out on instinct—a hand dipping a finger into his soul. Enough to taste the essence of it. To feel the weight of it. And my god, it was heavy . . .
A twist of guilt coiled in my gut. Maybe I’d been too harsh. There were clearly some serious scars carved into his soul. Scars no one acquired by accident. I couldn’t imagine what kind of horrors he would’ve survived through in order to carry marks like that.
Still, he was a grown adult. Probably had years to face those demons, to find healing. Or at least stop using his own pain as a weapon against others. Maybe if he had a littleempathy for others and their struggles, he’d learn a thing or two.
I exhaled sharply, cutting the thought loose like a rogue spindle of thread.
Focus.
I reached inward again, feeling for that connection. The subtle pull of spirit energy. Pogue’s shimmered at the edges of my senses, taut and waiting. I latched onto it, tracking. My power spiraled around me in soft swirls, casting a faint glow across the surrounding jagged walls.
Pull.
Step.
Pull.
Step.
In my mind’s eye, I kept reeling in that thin strand of connection. Like a fisherman unknowingly reeling in a pouty dickfish.
Each stride farther into the cave was cautious. My eyes were half closed, focus split between two worlds. The moss-riddled floor was slick and uneven. I had to balance my Soulsayer instinct with physical awareness. A mental muscle I wasn’t used to flexing. At least, not like this.
The harder I tugged and farther I reached, the stronger a throb built behind my temples. I’d probably have a week’s worth of migraines after this.
Almost there, closer now. He’d clearly gone deep, too deep for my liking.
A fork in the path appeared. The moment I stepped forward, I felt it—a tug to the right. Stronger now, weighted. Like the connection transitioned from a thread to a dense rope, tight and tangible. He must’ve been nearby.
Crack!
The sound ricocheted through the tunnel, sharp and violent, like the snap of a whip.
I froze mid-step.
A shudder tore through me. Images of the Dullahan burned across my mind. The shrieking—the flaring pain.
No, it can’t be. It’s gone . . . it’s gone.
This better not have been some training exercise or sick joke Pogue came up with.I swear to god, I’ll cut his?—
