The air felt heavier today. Not just the usual, oppressive weight of Hell's atmosphere—this was different. It pressed against Lena's chest, coiling tight like invisible fingers wrapping around her lungs, as if trying to suffocate her from the inside out. She followed Azrael down the dim, winding corridors of the fortress in silence, her feet dragging slightly with each step. The day before had drained her, but there was something else gnawing at her mind.
The ghosts.
They had been in her dreams again last night, clearer than ever before. Their soft whispers had crept into her subconscious, filling her sleep with promises of guidance and help. But why? Why her?
The thought of them left her skin crawling with an uneasy chill. She didn't know what they wanted from her, but they weren't going away. She could feel their presence even now, hovering at the edges of her awareness. Silent, but there. Always there.
Azrael's voice snapped her back to reality. "You're too quiet, human. Don't tell me you're already second-guessing your choice to work for me."
Lena blinked, shaking herself out of her thoughts. "No, I'm just… tired," she mumbled, her voice lacking any real conviction.
"Tired?" Azrael chuckled softly, the sound cold and sharp. "You're dead. You don't need rest, at least not in the way you're used to. Hell will break that habit soon enough."
His words did nothing to comfort her. If anything, they made her feel worse. The idea of never truly resting, of being in this relentless cycle of exhaustion, was enough to send a fresh wave of dread crawling up her spine.
They entered the lower chambers again, the same room where the souls hovered like trapped fireflies, their faint glow casting an eerie light on the dark stone walls. Lena took a deep breath, steeling herself for another day of soul sorting. The previous day's work had left her mentally and emotionally drained, and she wasn't sure she could handle much more of it.
Azrael paused in front of the glowing orbs, his sharp gaze turning to her. "Today, we're going to take things up a notch."
Lena's heart sank. She wasn't sure what "taking things up a notch" meant, but it didn't sound good.
Azrael's smirk widened as if he could sense her unease. "You're getting the hang of it, but you need to be quicker. Souls don't have patience, and neither do I. You'll be handling more today. And not just the easier ones."
Lena bit her lip, trying to steady herself. "What do you mean by 'not the easier ones'?"
Azrael stepped closer to one of the orbs, his hand hovering just above it. "Some souls are… messier than others. More complicated. Their emotions are more intense, their memories more tangled. The more violent the death or the more chaotic the life, the more difficult they are to sort. Those are the ones you'll be handling today."
Lena's stomach twisted at his words. Yesterday's souls had already been overwhelming—waves of regret, anger, sorrow crashing over her like an emotional storm. If today's souls were worse than that…
She clenched her fists, trying to gather what little strength she had left. She had no choice. This was her reality now, and she had to survive it, one way or another.
Azrael gestured to the first soul. "Start with this one."
Lena hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward. The orb hovered in front of her, its light flickering faintly, almost as if it was struggling to maintain its shape. Lena reached out, her fingers brushing the surface of the orb. Immediately, she was hit with a wave of emotions—rage, bitterness, confusion. It was like being caught in a violent storm, the emotions swirling around her in a chaotic whirlwind.
She staggered back, gasping for breath as the intensity of the soul's memories threatened to overwhelm her. But she didn't pull away. She forced herself to focus, to push through the noise. Beneath the storm, she could feel it—the faint pull, the direction the soul needed to go.
She guided the orb toward one of the darker passageways, her hand shaking as she did so. The whispers in her mind grew louder as she moved the soul, but this time, they felt more urgent, more insistent.
_Let us help…_
Lena froze, her breath catching in her throat. The words were clearer now, not just whispers but actual voices. She blinked, looking around the room, but there was no one there. Just her, Azrael, and the flickering souls.
"Something wrong?" Azrael asked, his tone bored.
Lena shook her head quickly, forcing herself to move the orb the rest of the way. The soul flickered once more before disappearing into the darkness of the passageway.
As soon as the soul was gone, the voices quieted, fading back into the background. Lena let out a shaky breath, her heart racing.
What is happening to me?
She turned to face Azrael, trying to steady her voice. "I… I think I'm hearing things."
Azrael raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of amusement flickering across his face. "Hearing things?"
"The souls. They're… talking to me. Or at least, I think they are." Lena's voice wavered, the uncertainty gnawing at her insides.
Azrael's expression didn't change. "It's normal for the emotions of souls to bleed into your mind. Sorting them means interacting with their memories, their feelings. It's all part of the process. You'll learn to tune it out eventually."
Lena nodded, but she wasn't convinced. These weren't just fleeting emotions or fragmented memories. These were actual voices—whispers from something deeper, something tied to her in a way she didn't yet understand.
But she couldn't dwell on it now. Not with Azrael watching her.
"Move on to the next one," he said, turning his attention back to the remaining orbs. "The more you do this, the better you'll get. And the faster."
Lena bit her lip, forcing down the rising tide of anxiety as she approached the next soul. This one was different. Its glow was more erratic, the light flickering wildly as if it was trying to break free. The moment she touched it, she was pulled into its chaos.
Screaming. Fear. Desperation. It hit her all at once, a maelstrom of terror that made her knees buckle. She could feel the soul's panic, its violent death seared into its very essence. It had been ripped from life, torn apart in its final moments, and now it was lost, confused, and furious.
Lena gritted her teeth, fighting to stay upright. She focused on the pull, the direction she needed to guide the soul, but it was difficult. The soul was so disoriented, its emotions so overpowering, that she could barely think straight.
The whispers returned, louder this time.
_We can help you. Let us help…_
Lena clenched her fists, trying to block out the voices, but they were insistent. They weren't just whispers anymore. They were voices—actual voices, clear and distinct in her mind. And they were offering her something. Help.
Her heart raced as she struggled to control the soul in front of her. She needed to guide it, but the chaos in her mind was too much. She couldn't do it alone.
_We can guide you._
The words echoed in her mind, a lifeline in the storm of emotions swirling around her. Lena hesitated for only a moment before she gave in, allowing the voices to guide her.
Immediately, the chaos in her mind began to calm. The storm of emotions didn't disappear, but it became more manageable, more controlled. The voices were there, guiding her, showing her the path.
Lena's hand moved instinctively, guiding the soul toward the passageway. The orb flickered violently, resisting at first, but the pull was stronger now, clearer. The whispers grew louder, more focused, and with their help, Lena was able to guide the soul into the darkness.
As soon as the soul was gone, the voices quieted, leaving behind an eerie silence.
Lena stood there, her chest heaving, her mind still reeling from the experience. But she had done it. She had sorted the soul.
Azrael watched her, his golden eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Interesting," he muttered, his voice low. "You're progressing faster than I expected."
Lena turned to him, her breath still shaky. "I don't know what's happening," she admitted. "The souls… the voices… they're helping me."
Azrael tilted his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. "It's unusual, but not unheard of. Some souls resonate more strongly with certain individuals. Perhaps there's something about you that draws them to you."
Lena swallowed hard. That wasn't exactly reassuring.
"I'll keep an eye on it," Azrael continued, his tone dismissive. "For now, keep going. You're not done yet."
Lena nodded, though her hands were still trembling. She moved to the next soul, her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn't sure what was happening to her, but one thing was clear—the whispers were getting stronger. And they weren't going away.
---
The day passed in a blur of souls and whispers. Each one was more difficult than the last, more chaotic, more intense. But every time Lena felt herself faltering, the whispers were there, guiding her,
helping her find the way. She didn't know who—or what—they were, but they seemed to want to help her. And without them, she wasn't sure she could have made it through the day.
By the time Azrael finally dismissed her, Lena was completely drained. Her body ached, her mind was clouded, and the constant presence of the whispers had left her feeling more exhausted than ever before. She trudged back to her chamber, her legs heavy, her thoughts muddled.
The whispers had quieted again, but they were still there, lurking just beneath the surface of her mind. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were always watching, always waiting.
When she reached her room, she collapsed onto the stone bed, too tired to do anything but lie there. The cold surface felt oddly comforting against her skin, a reminder that she was still tethered to something real, something solid.
But even as her eyes closed and sleep began to claim her, the whispers stirred again, pulling her into the darkness of her dreams.
---
Lena found herself standing in the same barren field as before, the dark clouds swirling ominously overhead. The landscape stretched endlessly in every direction, empty and silent. But she wasn't alone.
The ghosts were there.
They drifted toward her, their forms flickering like dying flames, their hollow eyes fixed on her. There were more of them this time, their numbers growing with each passing moment. Lena's heart raced as she watched them approach, but she didn't move. She couldn't.
"We're here," one of the ghosts whispered, its voice soft and distant.
Lena's breath hitched. "Why?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Why are you following me?"
The ghosts didn't answer. Instead, they floated closer, their translucent forms shimmering in the dim light. Lena could feel their presence all around her, like a cold wind brushing against her skin.
"Help me understand," she pleaded. "What do you want from me?"
One of the ghosts stepped forward, its hand outstretched. Lena hesitated for a moment before reaching out, her fingers brushing against the cold, ethereal surface of the ghost's hand. A surge of emotion washed over her—fear, longing, pain—but it wasn't her own.
It was the ghost's.
"We are bound to you," the ghost whispered. "You can hear us. You can guide us."
Lena's heart pounded in her chest. "Guide you where? What do you mean?"
The ghost's hollow eyes locked onto hers, its voice barely more than a whisper. "You can save us."
---
Lena woke with a gasp, her body drenched in cold sweat. Her heart was racing, her mind spinning with the words from the dream.
Save us?
She sat up, her hands shaking. The room was dark, the air still and heavy, but the whispers were there, soft and insistent.
_We're here…_
Lena swallowed hard, her pulse thundering in her ears. She didn't know what the ghosts wanted from her, but one thing was clear.
She was connected to them. And whatever that connection was, it was growing stronger.