Chapter 44

  Soul Touched

  Enoux’s footsteps echoed against the stone floor,

  sharp and deliberate. I froze, the acrid scent of burnt sage and sulfur thick

  in the air. The candles flickered, their feeble light barely holding back the

  darkness that curled in the corners of my workshop. A single glance at her face

  revealed everything—concern, fear, and something colder, something like

  suspicion.

  "Elara…" Her voice was steady, but I

  caught the faint tremor beneath it. Her eyes flicked from the open grimoire to

  the sigils I had painstakingly carved into the wooden table, the ink still

  glistening with latent power.

  I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "It’s not

  what it looks like."

  Enoux’s gaze settled on the centerpiece of my

  work—an intricate bone charm wrapped in silver thread, pulsing with an

  unnatural hum. Her jaw tightened. "Tell me you’re not tampering with the

  Abyss."

  I hesitated. That silence was all the answer she

  needed.

  "By the great cycle!" she cried out,

  her voice thick with shock and disbelief. "Witchcraft, alchemy,

  divination—even the black arts, to some extent—those are within acceptable

  boundaries of study. But necromancy? Researching the Primals? The Primordials?

  That is a line you should never cross."

  She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

  "Why? Tell me why, Elara. You're such a clever and innocent little girl...

  so why?"

  I should have stopped. I should have listened to

  the warnings etched in blood-soaked history, to the countless voices that

  cautioned against treading where I had. And yet… something inside me refused to

  turn away. A whisper at the edge of my thoughts, an unseen hand guiding my

  quill, urging me deeper.

  I clenched my fists, feeling the heat of defiance

  rising within me. "I only wanted to understand."

  "Understand?" she replied, her voice

  tight with disbelief.

  "My clairvoyance…"

  Enoux gasped, her eyes widening.

  "Clair…voyance?"

  "Yes…" I swallowed hard, my voice

  faltering. "It… it doesn’t work on Selene."

  Enoux exhaled sharply, a soft chuckle escaping

  her lips. The tension in her body seemed to dissolve as she moved around my

  room, her hands deftly adjusting the sigils on the candle holders. They hummed

  to life, their light brightening as the shadows slowly retreated.

  It was in that moment, as the darkness slipped

  away, that I realized I was being… swayed by something darker, something more

  sinister than I had first understood.

  "Some things," Enoux said, her voice

  soft, almost motherly, "my dear child, aren't meant to be

  understood."

  She walked over to Selene, gently poking her in

  the stomach.

  Selene cooed, giggling in response.

  "Elara, it’s okay to be curious… but it is

  not, however, okay to use your own sister in your… experiments."

  “I… understand.”

  But did I?

  “Apparently not…” The dragon chuckles, a deep,

  rumbling sound that fills the space.

  I meet his gaze, then laugh softly, the tension

  easing in my chest. “Ha… yeah, you’re probably right.”

  I sat across from Enoux, the flickering

  candlelight offering little defense against the shadows that danced upon the

  stone walls. The remnants of my earlier experiment were scattered across the

  table—charcoal runes, half-burned parchment, and the faint shimmer of

  dissipating energy. I exhaled slowly, gathering myself before speaking.

  “My clairvoyance…” I hesitated, searching for the

  right words. The weight of the truth hung heavy in the air, and I knew I could

  not reveal it all—not yet. Perhaps some things were better left unsaid,

  confined to the touch of my hand, as if that might make it more bearable.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “It allows me to see the past, the present, and

  glimpses of the future. But when I tried to read Selene, there was… nothing. A

  void. As if she wasn’t there at all.”

  Enoux didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she

  studied Selene’s joyful little fox-like face, cradling her gently in her arms.

  Her sharp golden eyes met Selene’s, searching, absorbing, as if trying to

  decipher something hidden. Then, to my surprise, she smiled—a small, almost

  relieved gesture.

  “So, that’s all it was,” she murmured.

  I frowned, confusion tightening in my chest.

  “What do you mean?”

  Enoux leaned back, carefully placing Selene

  against her shoulder and patting her back. The little one let out a soft burp,

  gasped, then resumed her quiet cooing.

  “What you’re describing isn’t just clairvoyance,”

  Enoux said, her voice thoughtful. “It’s Soul Magic.”

  The words hit me like a stone. Soul Magic. The

  term felt alien, hollow in my mind, unsettling in its implications.

  “Selene is probably attuned to it,” Enoux

  continued, her gaze still fixed on Selene. “It would explain why you can’t see

  her threads of fate like everyone else.”

  I shook my head, struggling to grasp the weight

  of her words. “But I’ve never heard of Soul Magic before. Why? What is it?

  Where does it come from?”

  Enoux raised Selene before her, her expression

  softening as she nuzzled her nose into Selene’s belly, cooing playful nonsense.

  Selene giggled, sputtered, and cooed in return, her laughter a melody in the

  stillness of the room.

  But then, as if the moment had shifted, Enoux’s

  expression darkened. Her gaze sharpened, and her voice dropped to a grave

  whisper.

  “Soul Magic, my dear, is not of this world. It

  belongs to an ancient people—the Soul-Bound. And those who carry their blood

  are called the Soul-Touched.”

  A cold weight settled in my chest.

  “But I’ve never heard of them either,” I said, my

  voice unsteady.

  “That’s because no one speaks of them, Elara. No

  one wants to be associated with them.” Enoux leaned forward, her tone a stern

  whisper. “Promise me—you’ll never experiment with it again. Never use it

  again.”

  I swallowed hard. “But…”

  “ELARA!”

  I flinched. She had never raised her voice at me

  like that. But in her eyes, I saw something I had never expected—fear. It was

  then that I did what every child in my position would do in that moment and

  place. I lied.

  “Okay…”

  The next day, Enoux presented me with a pair of

  gloves—fine leather, stitched with silver thread, their surface inscribed with

  delicate, intricate runes. She laid them on the table between us, her

  expression unreadable.

  “These will suppress your clairvoyance,” she

  said, her voice steady, yet there was something laced within it I couldn’t

  quite place. “It’s necessary.”

  Necessary. The word sank into me like a stone I

  couldn’t quite swallow, pressing against my chest with uncomfortable weight.

  She moved with deliberate care, guiding my

  fingers into the gloves, her touch hesitant, as if the act itself might unravel

  something she wasn’t willing to risk. The leather was cool against my skin,

  fitting snugly, but not uncomfortably. Yet there was a carefulness to her

  movements—too cautious, as if she feared even the smallest slip.

  Then, by accident, her fingers brushed the bare

  skin of my forearm.

  I saw—nothing.

  No shifting threads of fate, no glimpses of past

  or future, no hidden truths. Just… emptiness. A void, like Selene.

  I gasped, and Enoux quickly misinterpreted my

  reaction. She fastened the buttons at my wrist with practiced precision, her

  brow furrowing in concern.

  “Is it too tight?” she asked.

  I hesitated, forcing a smile. “No. You just

  pinched the skin a little.”

  She chuckled, relieved. “Sorry about that.”

  As she adjusted the final button, her voice

  softened as if the words were a casual observation.

  “Soul Magic is a fickle thing,” she said. “It

  only works on those who aren’t Soul-Touched. Even less so if the soul you’re

  trying to… see, is that of a demi-god or higher. That includes demons and

  celestials. Since your clairvoyance failed on Selene, it means she is

  Soul-Touched as well.”

  “Soul-Touched?” I echoed, my voice rising with

  confusion. “Not… demon or celestial.” I paused, then added almost too

  cheerfully, “OH! What if she’s a demi-god?”

  I watched her carefully as she stood, gathering

  her things, chuckling softly.

  “Silly child,” she said, a playful smile curving

  her lips. “She is neither of those things.”

  “But… how would you know?” I asked, doubt

  creeping into my voice.

  Enoux’s smile faltered for a brief moment. And

  before she closed her eyes, I caught a flicker in them—guilt, sadness, and

  fear.

  “Trust me,” she said softly. “I would know.”

  It seemed I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

  Enoux… was Soul-Touched too.