Page 30 of Echoes of the Banshee

“Night, Thea. See you tomorrow,” he says, like it’s guaranteed. Like we’ve done this a hundred times.

I nod. “Tomorrow.”

He means in class. Not in my nook.

He’s going to be in my damn nook tomorrow night.

I head inside and take longer than usual getting ready for bed. I even floss.When I run out of ways to stall, I pull out the library book on rare magical artifacts and flip to the section on soul shards.

Soul shards, are thought to be condensed fragments of soul, forged like diamonds through pain into a substance called Soulenium. While any spiritborne can form a soul shard, they are particularly potent in witches. Their presence often amplifies raw power, but also results in volatility and erratic magical expressions. Witches with a soul shard are often drawn toward elemental affinities.

The creation of a soul shard appears largely random. It requires a traumatic event during early magical development, while the soul is still in innocence. Some covens have attempted to manufacture them in witchlings; however, the failure rate and fatality rate are too high. Most recorded cases are tied to historical trauma, such as enslaved children, trafficked nightblinds, or mass magical catastrophes.

I scoff at the page.

Great. My entire family was ripped to shreds in front of me, and all I got was this lousy soul shard.

I slam the book shut.

Awesome. Now I’m going to have that creepy nightmare with the frozen bodies again.

Maybe Lazlo was wrong. Maybe he’s not the cursed one. Maybe I am. Everyone I love dies in front of my eyes. The familiar ache starts low in my chest.

I lay down and stare at the ceiling, my fingers absently rubbing at my wrist. Not because it soothes anything. It doesn’t. But it gives my hands something to do while I wait.

And sure enough.

Frozen bodies. Shattered limbs. Blood painting the walls in wild arcs.

I wake drenched in sweat, the sheets twisted beneath me.

The grief hits fresh and deep.

I stand and make my tally.

Day two done.

This isn’t getting easier.

Mavrik

A Brief Introduction to Human Connection

My steps echo as I jog around the lake. The moon hasn’t set, casting shadows on the trail. My headphones are playing a song I’m trying to learn the dance to, but I can’t hear it. Instead, my thoughts are circling. Every word from class yesterday repeats in my mind as I try to remember the exact sound of her laugh.

The shadows replay it, her head tilted back. My own laughter echoes. Something I was unaware I could still do.

“Why do you guys like her?” I ask. Wondering for the thousandth time if they knew I was thinking the same thing. Sometimes they do exactly what I intend, others, they do whatever they want.

They don’t answer me, just warn me of a root on the path ahead. I try to focus on my music, unable to believe that a single interaction with another human being is enough to send me into a tizzy.

After my laps I head to combat class. I scan the room, convinced I saw her here yesterday. Wondering if I’m actually losing my mind. Her braid bounces into the gym and she approaches coach. He sends her over to work with his TA Max. He must be trying to get her to quit.

I move through the motions of the routine, just good enough that no one corrects me, not good enough that anyone notices. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Max telling her to move tires that are easily double her weight. It’s an impossible task for anyone but a goblin. Meant to teach teamwork.

She looks around, I almost forget to move as she grabs a barbell and a weight, putting it next to the tire and using it as a fulcrum to lift the tire. By inches she lifts it, sliding a step platform under it as it moves. Max is staring at her in complete confusion as the tire echoes loudly around the room as it finishes a full flip.

Thea moves her little setup and starts again. At the end of class the tire is halfway across the track. Not at the goal. Still farther than any single person has ever gotten it in this class. Coach goes over and lectures her like she failed. Her triumphant smile doesn’t waver.