Lena awoke with a start, her heart pounding. Her mind was foggy, disoriented, unsure for a moment where she was. The cold, hard stone beneath her and the dim glow of torchlight brought her quickly back to reality. This wasn't a dream—this was Hell. She sat up, rubbing her eyes as the events of the previous day came rushing back.
She was dead.
And the Grim Reaper had put her to work.
The whispers. They were still there, faint and barely perceptible but always present. Soft, like distant voices just out of her range of understanding, lingering at the edge of her mind. Lena had hoped that maybe, just maybe, they would have vanished with sleep. But they were always there, as if they were a part of this world, like the heat and the oppressive air.
Pulling the thin blanket from her shoulders, she stood, stretching out the stiffness from the cold, uncomfortable stone bed. She paced the small room, trying to shake off the last clinging remnants of the nightmare she had fallen into. Outside, through the narrow window, the red sky cast a faint glow over the wasteland beyond. Nothing had changed. Hell was as unwelcoming as ever.
_We're here._
Lena froze. The whisper was louder this time, clearer. She spun around, expecting to see someone standing behind her, but the room was empty. Her stomach clenched in fear, her skin prickling with the sensation of being watched. But no one was there. Just her and the shadows that danced along the walls, cast by the flickering torchlight.
Was it real? Were these ghosts actually speaking to her?
She shuddered, shaking her head as if to dislodge the unsettling thoughts. I need to focus. Today was another day. She had a job now. A terrifying, soul-crushing job, sure, but it was something to cling to in this surreal nightmare. The alternative—wandering aimlessly in the chaos outside, alone—was much worse.
A knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts. The heavy wooden door creaked open, and there stood Azrael, his tall frame casting a long shadow into the room. His golden eyes gleamed with that same unreadable expression—a mix of amusement and impatience.
"Time to get to work," he said, his voice brisk. "You're not here to sleep your afterlife away."
Lena swallowed, forcing herself to nod as she tried to shake off her lingering exhaustion. "Right. Of course."
Without another word, Azrael turned and strode down the hallway, his coat billowing behind him like the sweep of night itself. Lena hurried after him, her heart pounding as she descended once again into the labyrinth of stone corridors that made up the fortress. The oppressive heat pressed down on her skin, though she still didn't sweat. The air felt alive with something—something dark and ancient—and she couldn't shake the sensation that the fortress itself was watching her.
The whispers began to stir again, faint and disjointed, but they never fully left her alone. She did her best to ignore them, focusing instead on keeping up with Azrael's long strides.
When they reached the lower chambers, the room where the glowing orbs—souls—hovered, Lena felt a wave of dread wash over her. Yesterday had been overwhelming, but today… today it felt different. The souls seemed to glow brighter, more restless, their light flickering like trapped fireflies.
Azrael led her to the center of the room, where the souls floated aimlessly, their faint light illuminating the darkness like distant stars. His eyes gleamed as he glanced at her, his smirk widening.
"We continue where we left off," he said, his tone sharp. "You'll handle more souls today. You need to learn to do this efficiently. There are always more arriving."
Lena swallowed hard and nodded, her stomach tightening with nerves. She had barely managed to sort a few yesterday, and even that had left her exhausted—emotionally and mentally. Sorting souls was unlike anything she had ever experienced. The flood of emotions, memories, and fear from each one was overwhelming, as though the life force of every soul was pouring directly into her mind.
But she had no choice. She had to push through. Her survival depended on it.
"Go on," Azrael gestured toward one of the glowing orbs. "Let's see how you do."
Lena hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer to the nearest orb. The soft glow of the soul pulsed in front of her, casting faint shadows on her hands as she reached out. She steeled herself, taking a deep breath, and placed her hand gently on its surface.
The flood of emotions hit her immediately.
Regret. Sorrow. Rage. It was all so overwhelming, so raw, that it nearly knocked her off balance. She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as the soul's memories washed over her like a tidal wave. She could feel the terror of the soul's final moments, the anguish of being pulled into Hell, and the desperate yearning to escape.
But beneath all of that, there was a faint pull—a direction, like a current in the water. The soul wanted to go somewhere, needed to be guided, but it was disoriented, lost.
Lena focused on that pull, feeling it grow stronger as she tuned out the noise of the emotions. Slowly, she guided the orb toward one of the shadowy passageways at the far end of the room, the same strange force she had felt yesterday helping her find its path.
The soul drifted down the passageway, disappearing into the darkness. The whispers in Lena's mind quieted, though she could still feel their presence.
"Not bad," Azrael said, his voice breaking the heavy silence. "But you're still too slow. You need to be more decisive. Souls don't have the luxury of waiting around."
Lena nodded mutely, her heart still racing from the intensity of the emotions she had just experienced. She turned to face the next orb, already dreading what was to come.
She reached out again, her hand trembling as it met the glowing surface of the soul. This one was different—angrier, more volatile. It lashed out at her, the surge of rage and hatred hitting her like a physical blow. Lena stumbled back, her breath coming in sharp gasps as the soul's emotions tore through her mind.
"Focus," Azrael's voice was sharp, a warning. "Don't let the soul overwhelm you. You're stronger than they are."
Lena gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand her ground. The soul's anger pulsed through her, but she pushed back, fighting against the storm of emotions. Slowly, she felt the pull again—the faint, instinctual tug that told her where the soul belonged.
With a deep breath, she guided the soul toward its destination. The orb flickered violently as it drifted down the passageway, its light dimming as it vanished into the darkness.
The whispers in her mind stirred again, but this time, they felt different. Softer. Comforting.
_We'll help you._
Lena blinked, her breath catching in her throat. The words were clear now—clearer than they had ever been. And they didn't feel like a threat. They felt like… support.
The day wore on, each soul more taxing than the last. Lena could feel herself growing weaker, her body and mind straining under the weight of the emotions flooding through her. Every soul carried its own pain, its own suffering, and each one left a mark on her, a shadow that lingered long after the soul had been sorted.
By the time Azrael finally called it a day, Lena was exhausted, her limbs heavy, her mind clouded with the remnants of the souls she had touched. The whispers had grown quieter, though they were still there, lingering at the edge of her awareness like a constant hum in the back of her mind.
"Get some rest," Azrael said as they returned to the upper levels of the fortress. "You'll need it for tomorrow."
Lena didn't argue. She was too tired to respond. Her legs felt like lead as she trudged back to her chamber, her mind numb from the day's work. As soon as she reached her room, she collapsed onto the stone bed, the cool surface offering some relief to her aching body.
She closed her eyes, hoping for sleep to come quickly, but the whispers stirred again, louder this time.
_We're here._
Lena's eyes snapped open, her heart pounding in her chest. The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the torches in the hallway. But she could feel it—the presence. The same presence from her dream.
"Who are you?" Lena whispered into the darkness.
There was no response. Just the faint murmur of whispers, like a distant wind carrying forgotten voices.
Lena shuddered, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She tried to block it out, to focus on sleep, but the whispers wouldn't leave her alone. They swirled around her, soft and insistent, tugging at the edges of her consciousness.
Finally, exhaustion overtook her, and she drifted into a restless sleep.
---
Lena's dreams were not her own.
She stood in the middle of a vast, empty landscape, the sky above her a swirling mass of dark clouds. The
ground beneath her feet was cold and barren, stretching endlessly in every direction. There were no landmarks, no signs of life. Just an empty void, silent and still.
But she wasn't alone.
The whispers returned, louder this time, more insistent. Lena turned, her heart pounding, but there was no one there. Just shadows, moving at the edge of her vision, darting between the swirling clouds like smoke.
_We're here…_
The voice was soft, almost gentle, but it sent a chill down Lena's spine. She turned again, but the shadows had vanished.
"Who are you?" she called out, her voice trembling. "What do you want?"
For a moment, there was silence. Then, slowly, figures began to emerge from the darkness. At first, they were nothing more than vague shapes, but as they drew closer, Lena could see them clearly.
Ghosts.
They floated toward her, their forms translucent and flickering like dying flames. Their faces were pale and hollow, their eyes dark and empty. But they didn't feel threatening. If anything, they seemed… lost.
"We'll help you," one of the ghosts whispered, its voice faint and distant.
Lena's breath caught in her throat. "Help me? Why?"
The ghosts drifted closer, their empty eyes fixed on her. Lena wanted to back away, but her feet wouldn't move. There was something keeping her there, something drawing her to them.
"We're with you," the ghost whispered again. "We're always with you."
Lena's heart raced, her mind spinning with confusion. "Why? What do you want from me?"
The ghost reached out, its translucent hand brushing against Lena's arm. She shivered at the cold touch, but it didn't feel threatening. It felt… familiar.
The whispers grew louder, swirling around her in a cacophony of voices, but Lena could barely make out the words. They were too distant, too fragmented. But one thing was clear.
The ghosts weren't leaving her. They were bound to her.
---
Lena woke with a start, her heart racing, her body drenched in cold sweat. She sat up, her mind spinning from the dream. The room was dark, the air still and heavy, but the whispers were still there. Always there.
_We're here._
Lena's chest tightened as the realization hit her. These weren't just dreams. The ghosts were real. And they were trying to communicate with her. But why? What did they want?
The knock at the door startled her, and she turned just as it creaked open. Azrael stood in the doorway, his golden eyes glinting in the dim light.
"Up already?" he asked, his smirk widening. "Good. I was about to wake you. We have work to do."
Lena nodded, her mind still clouded with the remnants of her dream. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was changing, that something inside her was awakening.
As she followed Azrael down the hall, the whispers faded into the background, but they never left her. They were always there, like a shadow following her, waiting for the moment when she would finally understand.