28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Bater came to a halt before an archway carved from a single, gargantuan slab of obsidian. The stone here was a glutton for light, swallowing every stray glimmer and refusing to reflect even the faint pulse that characterized the rest of the Umbral.
It stood as a literal void.
A cavern opened before us, vast and seemingly endless, its vaulted ceiling lost to the hungry shadows above. Mist curled around my ankles in thick, gray ribbons, cold enough that I almost jerked back before I could stop myself.
Shadows flickered at the very edges of my vision—countless restless spirits darting through the gloom.
These were not the melodic whispers that had greeted me upon my arrival. These were fractured things, humming with grief and an unsettled anger that had me stepping closer to Bater.
“They are untethered,” he said. “Without a loyal cell to house them, they drift. They are lost, and they are very volatile.”
I kept walking, my chest tightening under the pressure of their collective sorrow. I forced my pace to remain steady even as the hum of their voices vibrated through my ribs and made my fingers tremble.
We stopped before a circle formed by large, round blocks of stone, and in the middle stood a figure.
Neya was cloaked in robes of bone-white and had her hair pulled back with a severity that made her features look like they were carved from ice. Her golden eyes locked onto me with a surgical precision that made me feel like a specimen under a microscope.
She did not bother with the pretense of a greeting. Her attention flicked to Bater, her chin tilting in a silent question.
“She is ready to train,” he announced.
My eyes shot to him with a frown tugging at my lips. Was he leaving me alone with her?
Neya’s lips curved in acknowledgment that did not reach her eyes.
“Very well.” She lifted a hand and gestured toward the cleared patch of stone at the center of the circle. “Come, Sayel. Show me what you are worth.”
Her voice carried enough contempt to make it clear what she expected to see—a fragile human playing at power she did not understand.
Heat flared low in my chest, a slow, simmering anger rising to meet the challenge.
Bater stared straight ahead, carefully avoiding my gaze.
With a quiet huff of breath, I stepped forward, the cool mist curling around my boots as I crossed into the circle.
Every spirit in the cavern seemed to lean closer as I reached the center of the floor, their hunger pressing against my mind, their pull scratching at the very edges of my focus.
Neya began to circle me. She moved with effortless grace, her steps nearly soundless against the stone as the mist swirled around her ankles. The spirits followed her motion instinctively, drawn to her presence until shadows gathered and folded around her form.
“You feel them. That is the first step,” she instructed. “The spirits always show themselves to those who cannot yet master them.”
The mist thickened around me, brushing against my skin in cold, creeping currents. It was not ordinary fog. Grief and fear pressed into my mind with it, a tangle of fractured emotions that seeped steadily into my thoughts.
My body trembled beneath the weight of it. Their sorrow dragged at me, their fury scraping through my focus until my balance wavered and the edges of my vision blurred.
I drew a slow breath and flexed my fingers, trying to steady myself. I willed the spirits to follow the motion, though I had no idea how one was meant to command them.
Neya stepped closer, her amber eyes burning through the haze like twin coals.
My hands lifted higher, palms open and facing upward, and the spirits surged. My knees threatened to buckle under the sheer intensity of their jerky, frantic movements, but I stood my ground.
Shadows coiled around my fingertips, and my skin prickled with a heat so intense it felt like a second pulse.
Neya stilled. Her poise wavered, her gaze widening just enough to reveal a flicker of genuine shock.