The Soul Eaters (The Thin Hex Line Book 1) by Gwyndolyn Russell (100 best novels of all time .txt) 📗

this strange creature was rising by the second. It wasn't normal.

Was it a quadrupedal creature? Bipedal? Why did it resemble an earthly wolf? It even resembled humans to some extent! Yet according to Mjolnir, this creature looked more like his own kind.

All of his questions surfaced in his mind. His fear made his heart thump like a war drum. His curiosity coursed through his veins.

Fenris stared right at him.

Within the blink of an eye, Jackal sunk into the soil. Enveloped by a torrent of water, he was the anchor stuck to the bottom of the ocean floor. Darkness all around him. Its tendrils stabbed towards him, threatening to spear the light within his soul.

Here again? He thought. But how?

The breath left his lungs. A sharp gasp sliced into his chest like icy daggers. Jackal clutched at his neck and chest. Bubbles rocketed out of his mouth. When they finally cleared, Jackal found the crimson lights hanging in the shadows. They breathed into focus from the top down. The creature was different this time. Indiscernible through the pulses. Jackal stared at the lights trickling down into smaller cracks.

That alluring song echoed around him, barely audible over the white noise ringing in his ears. Drawn to the lights, he followed them as they fell. The static shrieked. His body jolted. Bubbles plummeted from his mouth.

He looked to the bubbles rushing down his frame.

What?

He looked back to the lights. A wicked claw had reached out to him.

The lights were not falling! They were rising. Jackal had flipped around without realizing it. He was the odd one out. He watched the lights as they breathed. Slow. Calm. The ache in his chest slowly dissipated. The spears for tendrils retracted back into the void. The white noise gently faded into the wolf’s song.

Jackal reached for the claw. For the creature.

Cold. Metallic. It was like he plunged his hand into snow.

His touch rippled through the crimson lights. They shimmered brighter than ever.

The darkness flooded in. Its effusion carried Jackal upwards. Back to solid ground.

Back to reality….

“Hey, you alright?” Reaper grabbed his shoulder, looking him in the eyes.

Jackal blinked, his body slumping down under the sudden weight of gravity. He looked at his friend.

“Valkyrie.” Boomed an otherworldly treble. Three voices overlapped each other like an endless echo. It carried through their bodies like thunder.

“W-what?” Jackal’s voice cracked.

“I am valkyrie.” The voice was softer, resonating inside their bones.

FOURTEEN

Reaper sat in a chair inside a holding cell. There were no decorations to brighten up the gray room. Just a table and two chairs. Across the table sat a young man, a boy perhaps, with his hands cuffed in front of him. His head was bowed, a black, leafy hood hiding his face.

Reaper’s arms crossed over his chest, lips twisted in thought.

“I was under the impression that your people are pacifists. Why would you murder those eldiravan?”

The boy’s head shot up, large eyes shimmering like emeralds. What would have been his face pinched up. The bird upon his shoulder resembled a falcon. Big, yellow piercing eyes. A hooked beak and beautiful rust colored feathers decorated with black and tan stripes and flecks. Black feathers stood up on its head like a crest, matching the extra-long tail feathers.

“Drast’Oebev was a slave trader!” The bird squawked. “He was kidnapping children and forcing them to work in those mines!”

“What about the raven at the bar?”

“He was a kidnapper who worked for Drast.”

Reaper studied the boy. He could see it in his eyes. The truth and the hatred. It pierced through the darkness in a green that matched no other. Fleebeeron were not liars. He had never known one to be anyway.

“I have to say, I’ve never heard of a fleebeeron picking up a sword. What made you change?”

“Why do you care?!” The bird’s wings flapped. The boy tensed, pulled back into his seat.

Reaper knew he suffered trauma. Fleebeeron were beautiful visages of nature. Yet this boy had no flowers or vibrancy. His body darkened like bark, the leaves like charcoal, wilted and shriveled. The clothing they wore were grown by themselves, it shaped their personalities, told their stories. This boy was the complete opposite of any known image of a fleebeeron. He was at the other side of the spectrum from Fauriei, a graceful beacon of hope.

“Because I have to figure out what to do with you.” Reaper raised a brow. “I’m under orders to return you to a prison to pay for your crimes.”

“Then do it!” The bird snapped. “You wouldn’t understand. You don’t really care! All you humans are the same! Just like those bastards.”

Reaper raised a hand. “I fought the eldiravan. I went to war against them. I know they are only in it for themselves.”

“They killed our family….” The boy’s head lowered. “We were starting a colony on Monleura. Mother wanted to study the unique life. Father wanted to mine the resources to fund expansion. It was going to be a safe haven for refugees.” The bird took a deep breath, taking a second to straighten out some of its feathers. “I don’t know who it was, but a group of eldiravan showed up one day. They demanded we give them everything. My parents refused. So, they killed all of them.”

“They let you go?”

“No. We were not there when it happened. Mother sent us into the woods to gather some samples. We returned to the massacre.”

“Have you found the culprits?”

“Only one of them. He didn’t say much. We’ve been tracking them down…All we know is their sigil. Orange and yellow. An immortal dragon of fire.”

Reaper scratched his cheek. He rolled the details of the story over in his head. While it was easy to believe the eldiravan could do something so horrible, why would they do it to such close allies?

“What’s your name?”

“Ianisse. My mother was Yari. My father, Emtra.”

Reaper slowly stood from the table. “Wait here for a few minutes. If your story checks out, I’ll come to a decision.”

“If you won’t let me hunt