Lena sat on the edge of the stone bed, knees pulled to her chest, staring at the dim room around her. The voices—the whispers—were louder now. It wasn't just faint echoes on the edge of her consciousness anymore. They had grown persistent, intertwining with her thoughts, filling her mind like static she couldn't tune out.
_We're here. We'll help you. Guide us._
Lena shivered. She had been hearing these whispers ever since she arrived in Hell, but they had become more distinct, more insistent. And it wasn't just when she touched souls. They were always there now, waiting, lurking in the corners of her mind like they had been there all along, unnoticed. The dreams, too, had become more intense—nightmares filled with the hollow-eyed specters from the cages, pleading for help. The line between the dreams and reality was beginning to blur.
She pressed her palms into her eyes, hoping to block out the noise, but the whispers only swirled closer, brushing against her thoughts like cold wind on the back of her neck. Lena's body tensed. She didn't know how much longer she could handle this constant gnawing presence. What was happening to her?
A knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts. She knew who it was before the door even opened. Azrael.
"Up," came his voice, cold and impatient. "We're not done yet."
Lena sighed, dragging herself off the bed. The days—if you could even call them that—were blurring together. Sorting souls, enduring their pain, and now this... this unsettling connection to the ghosts. She followed Azrael out into the corridor, the oppressive air pressing down on her as it always did, heavy and thick with a suffocating stillness.
They moved through the darkened halls of the fortress, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the stone walls. Lena's heart pounded in her chest. Her mind felt muddled, her thoughts thick with fog. She had barely rested since she had started this work. How could she rest with the whispers constantly swirling around her?
Her eyes wandered to Azrael's back as they walked. His tall, lean frame moved gracefully through the fortress as if this place bent to his will. His golden eyes gleamed whenever they turned to her, a constant reminder that there was nothing in this world that didn't interest or amuse him. But Lena couldn't shake the feeling that, despite his calm exterior, there was something he wasn't telling her. He knew more about this place—about everything—than he let on.
"What are we doing today?" Lena asked, her voice coming out softer than she intended.
Azrael glanced at her from the corner of his eye, the smirk on his face curling slightly. "You've been doing well," he said, though there was a sharpness in his tone that made it feel more like an evaluation than a compliment. "You've handled the sorting efficiently. But today, we're dealing with something a bit more... problematic."
Lena's stomach twisted. The word "problematic" wasn't exactly reassuring.
They descended deeper into the fortress, through winding corridors Lena had never been in before. The air grew colder as they walked, the oppressive heat of Hell fading into a sharp, unnatural chill. The stones underfoot felt damp, and Lena could hear the faint sound of water dripping somewhere in the distance, the echoes bouncing through the corridors.
"Where are we going?" Lena asked, her voice hesitant.
"You'll see," Azrael replied, his tone giving nothing away.
They reached a set of massive iron doors. Azrael paused for a moment, his hand resting on the handle. He turned to face Lena, his golden eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
"There are souls in Hell that resist their fate," he said, his voice soft but dangerous. "They don't accept their place, don't accept what they've become. Some are stronger, some more stubborn, but all of them are trouble. They need to be dealt with."
Lena's heart pounded. "Dealt with... how?"
Azrael pushed the door open, revealing a vast, dark chamber beyond. The air inside was thick with the stench of rot, and Lena recoiled at the smell, her stomach churning. The chamber was lined with iron cages—each one holding a soul twisted into a grotesque, barely human form. Some were gaunt, with hollow eyes and limbs stretched unnaturally long. Others were monstrous, their bodies mangled and warped, their faces contorted into expressions of agony.
Their eyes—those hollow, glowing eyes—locked onto her the moment she stepped inside. Lena could feel the weight of their stares pressing against her skin, like hundreds of cold fingers crawling over her body. Her breath quickened as the whispers in her mind surged.
_Help us..._
Azrael stepped into the room, his voice low and commanding. "These souls need to be broken. They're beyond sorting. They refuse to let go of what they were in life, and that makes them dangerous. If they're not dealt with, they'll throw the balance of Hell into chaos."
Lena's stomach twisted. "You want me to... break them?"
Azrael's smirk widened. "Not break, exactly. You'll strip away what's left of their humanity, force them to accept their place here. It's not pleasant, but it's necessary."
Lena's blood ran cold. She stared at the figures in the cages, her heart racing. She could feel their pain, their fear, their anger. It pulsed through the air, thick and suffocating. They were clinging to something—some small, fragile piece of what they once were—but it was slipping away.
Her hands trembled as she stepped closer to the nearest cage. Inside was a gaunt, skeletal figure, its eyes burning with defiance. Lena could feel the soul's rage pouring off it in waves, like a fire that refused to be extinguished.
_We'll help you. You can guide us._
The voices in her mind grew louder, more distinct. Lena squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block them out, but they wouldn't leave her alone. They were swirling around her, pressing against her thoughts, urging her to do something.
Azrael watched her, his golden eyes glinting in the dim light. "You're not supposed to think too much about it. Just do what needs to be done."
Lena bit her lip, her heart hammering in her chest. She didn't know how to do this. She didn't know how to break a soul, how to strip away its humanity. But the voices... the voices were there, guiding her, pulling her toward the truth.
_Help us..._
The voice was louder now, almost pleading.
Lena glanced at Azrael, but he wasn't paying attention to her anymore. His gaze had drifted toward the cages, his expression distant, as if he was lost in thought. He didn't know. He didn't know what was happening to her, didn't know that the whispers weren't just the remnants of soul emotions.
She reached out toward the iron bars of the cage, her hand trembling as it touched the cold metal. The soul inside snarled, its hollow eyes narrowing as it lunged toward her, its bony fingers clawing at the air. But it couldn't reach her. The cage held it back, keeping it trapped, caged like a wild animal.
Lena could feel the soul's rage, its defiance, but beneath that... there was fear. Deep, overwhelming fear. The soul was clinging to what it had been in life, refusing to let go, but it was terrified of what awaited it.
_We can help you. Let us help you._
The whispers were insistent now, swirling around her mind, urging her forward. Lena closed her eyes, feeling the cold rush of the spirits as they brushed against her consciousness. She didn't know how she was doing this—how she could hear them, how they could guide her—but she didn't resist.
She let the voices guide her.
Slowly, she reached out with her mind, touching the soul's emotions. She could feel its fear, its anger, its desperate clinging to the remnants of its humanity. But she didn't push. She didn't force it. She let the voices show her the way.
The soul resisted at first, its emotions surging, but Lena didn't give up. She pressed deeper, not with force, but with understanding. She wasn't trying to break the soul. She was trying to show it the truth.
You're not what you were anymore. You've changed. You have to let go.
The soul trembled, its hollow eyes flickering as the last vestiges of its defiance began to crumble. Slowly, the rage that had burned so brightly dimmed, replaced by a quiet resignation. It wasn't acceptance—at least, not yet—but it was a start.
Lena opened her eyes, her chest heaving as she pulled her hand away from the cage. The soul inside had changed. Its eyes were still hollow, still empty, but the anger was gone. It no longer fought against its fate.
She had done it. Somehow, she had guided the soul.
Azrael glanced over at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Well," he muttered, "I didn't expect that."
Lena's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"
Azrael studied her for a moment, his gaze sharp. "You didn't break it. Most souls need to be shattered before they accept their fate. But you… you did something different."
Lena swallowed hard. "I just… I tried to guide it. I couldn't break it."
Azrael's golden eyes gleamed with something Lena couldn't quite place—curiosity, maybe, or suspicion. But he didn't press further. Instead, he gestured toward the other cages. "You're not done yet."
Lena turned toward the remaining souls, her stomach twisting with dread. She could feel their eyes on her, their whispers filling her mind. Each one was different, each one clinging to what little humanity it had left. But she knew now that she didn't have to break them. She could guide them, just as she had guided the first one.
She stepped toward the next cage, her heart pounding in her chest. The whispers swirled around her, filling her mind with their presence. They were there, guiding her, helping her. She didn't know why they had chosen her, but she couldn't do this without them.
Her hand trembled as she touched the iron bars, and once again, she felt the soul's emotions wash over her. But this time, she didn't hesitate. She let the voices guide her, let them show her the way.
_You're not alone. We're with you._
---
Hours passed in a blur of souls and whispers. Each one was more difficult than the last, more desperate, more broken. But Lena guided them all, using the whispers to find her way. She didn't understand it, didn't know why she had this connection to the souls, but she was beginning to realize that it was the only thing keeping her from losing herself in this place.
By the time Azrael finally dismissed her, Lena was completely drained. Her body ached, her mind was foggy, and the constant presence of the whispers had left her feeling more exhausted than ever before. She could barely keep her eyes open as she stumbled back to her chamber, her legs trembling with every step.
The voices had quieted again, fading into the background, but they were still there, lurking just beneath the surface of her mind. They never left her. They never would.
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, grounding her in something real. But even as her eyes closed and sleep began to claim her, the whispers stirred again, pulling her into the darkness of her dreams.
---
In the dream, she stood once more in the empty field, the dark clouds swirling overhead like ink spilled across the sky. The ground beneath her feet was cold and hard, stretching endlessly in every direction. But she wasn't alone.
The ghosts were there.
They drifted toward her, their forms flickering in and out of focus like shadows caught in the wind. Their hollow eyes locked onto hers, and Lena felt the weight of their presence pressing against her skin.
"We're here," one of the ghosts whispered, its voice soft and distant.
Lena's breath caught in her throat. "Why? Why are you following me?"
The ghosts didn't answer. Instead, they floated closer, their translucent forms hovering just out of reach. She could feel their presence all around her, like a cold wind brushing against her skin. But this time, they didn't feel threatening. They felt... familiar.
_We are bound to you. You can guide us._
Lena's heart pounded in her chest. "Guide you where? What do you mean?"
The ghosts drifted closer still, their hollow eyes fixed on hers. Lena wanted to back away, to run, but something kept her rooted to the spot. There was a strange sense of calm that came with their presence, like they were waiting for her to understand something.
"We are with you," the ghost whispered again. "We will always be with you."
---
Lena woke with a gasp, her body drenched in cold sweat. The whispers were still there, but they were quieter now, patient.
She sat up, her hands trembling. What did they want from her? Why were they following her? And why did she feel like she was somehow responsible for them?
_We're here..._
Lena shivered as the realization hit her. She was connected to them. And whatever this connection was, it was growing stronger with each passing day.