SOUL KEEPER

SEAN

R eality shifted and twisted around me, the world blurring into streaks of color and light before reforming.

My stomach lurched, and I stumbled as solid ground materialized beneath my feet.

I was no longer in the alley but in a lavish penthouse, high above the city.

The walls were glass, giving a perfect view of the skyline, lights glittering like fallen stars against the velvet darkness.

A man stood by the window, his silhouette sharp against the backdrop of the city. Tall, elegant, power radiating from him in waves that made the air feel charged with electricity.

The man turned, and I got my first real look at him. Dark suit impeccably tailored, sharp features that might have been handsome if not for the calculation in his eyes, an aura of quiet control that made the hair on my arms stand on end.

“Who the hell are you?” I demanded, hand going instinctively to where my weapon should be. Gone, of course. Whoever had yanked me here hadn't been thoughtful enough to bring my gun along for the ride.

The man smiled slightly, the expression not reaching his eyes. “I suppose introductions are overdue. My name is Zeryth.”

His voice was smooth, cultured, with an accent I couldn't quite place. Ancient, somehow, though he appeared no older than forty.

“That supposed to mean something to me?” I asked, trying to mask my unease with bravado.

“Not yet,” Zeryth admitted. “But it will.”

He gestured to a sitting area, two armchairs facing each other across a glass coffee table. “Please, sit. Can I offer you a drink?”

“I'll stand, thanks,” I replied, eyes darting around the room, assessing possible exits, weapons, anything I could use.

Nothing obvious presented itself. No windows that opened, no decorative items heavy enough to use as weapons.

Just sleek, minimalist luxury that somehow felt both ancient and modern at once.

Zeryth shrugged elegantly. “As you wish.” He moved to one of the chairs and sat, crossing one leg over the other. “I've been watching Cade for quite some time.”

That got my attention. “What did you just say?”

“Cade,” Zeryth repeated, watching me with those ancient eyes. “I've been watching him since the night in the alley. Since the day he almost died as a child.”

I took an involuntary step forward. “You're the one who marked him.”

Zeryth nodded, the movement almost imperceptible. “And the one who got him out of Hell.”

The weight of the words settled over me like lead.

I struggled to process it, mind racing through possibilities, each more alarming than the last. This was the entity that had been pulling Cade's strings all along?

The one responsible for the heart-shaped mark on his chest that had been steadily corrupting him?

I didn't waste time dancing around the real question. “Are you the reason Cade's soul is missing?”

Zeryth didn't hesitate. “Yes.”

My blood ran cold. I lunged forward without thinking, fury overtaking caution, but an invisible barrier stopped me before I could reach him. Zeryth hadn't moved, hadn't even blinked.

“Let me explain,” he said calmly, as if I hadn't just tried to attack him.

“Explain?” I snarled, still pushing against the unseen force. “You stole his soul! You turned him into that... that empty shell!”

“I protected him,” Zeryth corrected, voice still infuriatingly calm. “If Cade had returned from Hell with his soul intact, with the memory of every moment of his time there, he wouldn't be functional. He'd be broken beyond repair.”

I stopped struggling, the words sinking in despite my anger. “What are you talking about?”

Zeryth sighed, the sound almost human. “Hell isn't just a place of physical torture, Sean. It's designed to break souls. To twist them until they become the very thing they fought against in life.”

“I know what Hell does,” I spat. “I've hunted enough demons to hear the highlight reel.”

“No,” Zeryth said quietly. “You haven't. Not really. What you've heard from demons are just stories, shadows of the true horror. Cade was there for what felt to him like centuries.”

I felt sick. “Centuries?”

“Time moves differently in Hell,” Zeryth explained. “What was months for you was lifetimes for him. And every moment was agony, designed specifically for him, targeting his deepest fears, his most cherished beliefs.”

The invisible barrier receded, and I found myself sinking into the chair opposite Zeryth, legs suddenly unable to support me. The thought of Cade suffering for what seemed like centuries was enough to knock the fight out of me, at least temporarily.

“So you took his soul,” I said numbly. “To protect him from the memories?”

Zeryth studied me for a moment, then reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a small crystal vial. Inside, something bluish-white swirled like smoke caught in a whirlpool, pulsing with an inner light that seemed to flicker in time with a heartbeat.

“This,” he said, holding it up between his fingers, “is Cade. The essence of him, at least.”

I stared at the vial, mesmerized and horrified all at once. That small container held everything that made Cade who he was—his compassion, his moral compass, his capacity for love and guilt and hope. All the things that had been missing since his return.

“You're keeping his soul in a fucking bottle?” I whispered, torn between reaching for it and recoiling from it.

“It's not a bottle,” Zeryth corrected mildly. “It's a soul vial, crafted specifically to contain and protect. Think of it as... stasis. The soul exists, but it doesn't experience. It doesn't remember. It doesn't suffer.”

He gazed at the vial with an expression I couldn't quite decipher—something almost like fondness. The way he looked at it reminded me of how my foster father Declan would look at his prized weapons, with pride of ownership but also genuine care.

“I don't understand,” I said, struggling to reconcile this bizarre situation. “Why help him at all? What's Cade to you?”

Zeryth's expression softened slightly, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of something that might have been genuine emotion. “When I marked Cade as a child, it created a connection. I've watched him grow, struggle, fight. I've seen his triumphs and failures, his moments of doubt and courage.”

“So what, he's like your pet project?” I couldn't keep the disgust from my voice.

“No,” Zeryth replied sharply, the first crack in his calm demeanor. “He's more than that.”

He stood and walked to the window, gazing out at the city below. “I never intended to become... invested. The mark was meant to be a simple deal—his life for his eventual service. But over time, something changed.”

“Changed how?”

Zeryth turned back to me, his expression unreadable. “I never had children, Sean. In all my eons of existence, I never created life, never watched something grow under my guidance. Cade became... important to me.”

I stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “Are you seriously trying to tell me you see yourself as Cade's father figure? That's twisted, even for a demon.”

“I'm not a demon,” Zeryth corrected. “Not in the way you understand them. I am... older. Different. And yes, I recognize the irony of my attachment. But it doesn't make it less real.”

I couldn't wrap my head around it. This ancient being, this creature of immense power, claiming some kind of paternal bond with Cade? It seemed impossible, absurd even.

“If you care about him so much,” I challenged, “then why keep his soul? Why not give it back?”

“Because I know what it contains,” Zeryth replied gravely. “I know what he endured in Hell, what memories that soul holds. Would you hand someone you cared about a bomb and tell them to hold it tight?”

I had no answer for that.

“And what, you just planned to keep it forever?” I asked finally.

Zeryth gave a small, almost sad smile. “No. But returning it is... complicated.”

“Complicated how?” I pressed.

“Souls aren't like organs that can be transplanted,” Zeryth explained. “They're consciousness, memory, emotion, all wrapped in one. Returning Cade's soul means returning every memory, every moment of torture, every second of those centuries in Hell.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “It would destroy him.”

“Not physically,” Zeryth corrected. “But mentally? Spiritually? It would shatter him beyond repair.”

“But there has to be a way,” I insisted, desperate now. “Some way to filter the memories, to ease the transition.”

“There is,” Zeryth admitted. “A wall, of sorts. A mental barrier between Cade and the worst of his Hell memories.”

Hope flared, bright and dangerous. “You can do that?”

“I can,” Zeryth confirmed. “For a price.”

I should have known. Nothing comes free, especially not from creatures like Zeryth. I braced myself for what was coming. “What's the price?”

Zeryth leaned forward, his eyes suddenly intense. “Your runes.”

I frowned, confused. “What runes?”

A knowing smile spread across Zeryth's face. “You don't even know what's been done to you, do you? Even with Cassiel following you around all this time.”

My blood ran cold at the mention of the angel. “How do you know about Cassiel?”

“I know many things, Sean,” Zeryth replied smoothly. “Including the fact that your angelic friend has been quite selective about what truths he shares with you.”

He stood and approached me, stopping just a foot away. “The runes, Sean. The Enochian symbols etched into your very bones since you were an infant. Hidden. Invisible. But always there, suppressing what you truly are.”

I instinctively touched my chest, feeling nothing unusual beneath my skin, yet somehow knowing he was telling the truth. “What are you talking about?”

“Your biological parents weren't just trying to hide you from detection when they placed you in foster care,” Zeryth explained. “They were hiding what you are from yourself. Those runes are ancient magic, designed to bind your Nephilim powers so completely that you'd never even know they existed.”