The Turning Point

The air in the Soul-Hunter barracks was thick with the smell of sweat, stale blood, and something metallic I couldn’t quite place. It wasn't a pleasant aroma, but after a few days of forced enlistment, it was starting to become my new normal. My new normal, which also included the constant, gnawing dread that I’d made a terrible mistake.

The Commander, a woman whose face seemed carved from granite and whose eyes held the weary resignation of someone who had seen too much death, had given me an ultimatum. "You're in, kid. No exceptions. You want to live, you fight. You want to fight, you fight with us." Her voice was rough, like sandpaper on wood. She’d pointed at me, then at Niku, who was standing a few feet away, his massive frame looking even more out of place than usual. "And your big friend here? He’s sticking with you. Consider it a… bonding exercise."

Bonding. Right. Niku, bless his simple, giant heart, had looked at me with wide, hopeful eyes. He’d been so excited to be a Soul-Hunter, especially since it meant staying with me. But I saw the flicker of fear in those eyes too, the same fear that was a cold knot in my stomach. This wasn't the grand adventure he imagined. This was a meat grinder, and he was fresh meat.