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My mind reeled. After everything Cassiel had told me, I'd started to believe there might be truth to the Nephilim claims, but this was different. This was confirmation that my entire life had been built on secrets and lies.
“That's why you've always been able to sense things other hunters couldn't,” Zeryth continued, circling me slowly. “Why you heal faster than humans should. Why you've survived injuries that would have killed any normal man. You're not human, Sean. Not entirely.”
“And you want to... what? Remove these runes?” I asked, wary. “Why would you do that?”
“Not remove the runes themselves,” Zeryth clarified. “I want to break the binding. To free what's trapped inside you.”
The implications were staggering. If what he said was true, without the binding, I would be exposed, visible to every supernatural entity that knew how to look. More than that, I would begin to manifest abilities I had no training to control, powers that could be as dangerous to me as to others.
“Why?” I repeated, suspicion gnawing at me. “What do you gain from unbinding me?”
Zeryth moved to the window, gazing out at the city below. “The First Nephilim is coming, Sean. The seals are breaking, one by one. We both know it's only a matter of time before the last one falls.”
“There won't be a fight,” I insisted, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears. “We're going to secure the last seal and end Asmodeus before he can break it.”
Zeryth just smirked, not bothering to turn. “Oh, Sean. You really believe that?”
His condescension ignited my anger. “We've stopped worse.”
“Have you?” Zeryth finally turned, his expression serious. “The First Nephilim isn't just another monster. It's the original abomination, the reason angels and demons first found common ground. Both sides fear it, and with good reason.”
“And you want me unbound because...?”
“Because when the time comes, we'll need every weapon we can get,” Zeryth said simply. “And you, unbound, would be quite the weapon.”
“I'm not a weapon,” I growled. “I'm a hunter.”
“You're both,” Zeryth countered. “You always have been.
The runes just kept you from realizing your full potential.
Did you never wonder why you could track monsters that left no trail?
Why you could sense supernatural beings that others couldn't detect?
Those are just glimpses of what you're capable of.”
I shook my head, trying to clear it. This was too much, too fast. “And if I say no?”
“Then I keep Cade's soul,” Zeryth replied without hesitation. “And he remains as he is. Functional but hollow. A perfect hunter with no moral compass to guide him. No capacity for love, for hope, for any of the things that made him Cade.”
My jaw clenched. The bastard had me, and he knew it. I couldn't leave Cade soulless, not after everything we'd been through. Not when I'd gone to hell and back to save him.
“If you really care about him,” I said slowly, “why use his soul as leverage? Why not just help him?”
Zeryth's expression hardened. “Because this isn't just about Cade anymore. This is about what's coming, about being prepared. Sometimes caring means making hard choices.”
I recognized the justification for what it was—the same bullshit Declan had fed me when he'd push me past my breaking point in training. It hurts now, but it'll keep you alive later. As if cruelty was just another form of protection.
“Fine,” I said, the word tasting like ash. “I'll do it.”
But Zeryth wasn't done. “There's one more thing you should know. The soul vial can only be opened if Cade gives full, conscious permission. He has to want it back, truly and completely.”
Given our earlier conversation about how Cade preferred his soulless state, that would be no small feat. “And if he does?” I asked, sensing there was more.
Zeryth's expression became unreadable. “Don't let him knock on the wall I'll build in his soul.”
I didn't ask what happens if he does. I already knew it wouldn't be good.
“When will you remove these runes?” I asked, resigned.
“Not yet,” Zeryth said, surprising me. “But soon. When you're ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“To become what you were born to be,” he replied cryptically. He moved closer, holding out the soul vial. “Take it. Keep it safe until Cade is ready to accept it.”
I stared at the small container, hesitant to touch something so otherworldly, so fundamentally wrong yet right. “How will I know when he's ready?”
“You'll know,” Zeryth said simply. “The soul will respond to him when his resolve is true.”
Slowly, I reached out and took the vial. It was warm to the touch, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. Looking at it, I felt a strange connection, as if the essence inside recognized me. Cade's soul, the core of who he was, now literally in my hands.
“How do I know this is really his soul?” I asked, suddenly suspicious. “This could be anything.”
Zeryth's expression softened. “Hold it close to your heart. You'll know.”
Feeling ridiculous but desperate, I pressed the vial against my chest. Instantly, a wave of emotion washed over me—compassion, determination, loyalty, guilt, hope—all the complex, contradictory elements that made Cade who he was. I nearly dropped it, overwhelmed by the intensity.
“Holy shit,” I whispered, carefully tucking the vial into my jacket's inner pocket. “It's really him.”
“Yes,” Zeryth agreed. “It is. I've taken good care of it.”
I looked at him, really looked at him, trying to understand this being that claimed to care for Cade yet used his soul as a bargaining chip. “Why Cade? Out of all the people in the world, why him?”
Zeryth's expression became distant, almost wistful. “Sometimes, even after eons of existence, something surprises you. Cade surprised me. His capacity for compassion, his stubborn refusal to give up on people... it's rare. Precious, even. I didn't expect to find that interesting, but I did.”
“So you're saying you got attached,” I translated flatly.
“In my own way,” Zeryth admitted. “Though I suspect my understanding of attachment differs from yours.”
He turned away, moving back to the window. “Our time is up for now. Remember what I said, Sean. The wall will hold, but only if Cade doesn't try to break it down.”
I had a dozen more questions, but I could sense our meeting was ending whether I wanted it to or not. “Wait—how do I contact you if something goes wrong?”
Zeryth smiled, a genuine expression this time that transformed his face into something almost warm. “Just call my name. I'll hear you.”
Before I could question him further, the penthouse dissolved around me, and I found myself back in the alley, the night undisturbed as if nothing had happened. But everything had changed.
I exhaled sharply, heart pounding against my ribs, the weight of what I'd just done settling over me. My hand went instinctively to my inner pocket, confirming the vial was still there, warm against my chest.
“Shit,” I whispered to the empty alley.
I had just made a deal with a being powerful enough to extract souls and keep them in bottles. A creature old enough to have witnessed the beginning of humanity, claiming some twisted form of paternal interest in Cade. An entity that knew about the Enochian runes supposedly binding my true nature.
I pulled out my phone, staring at the screen. I should call Sterling, tell him what happened. Or Cade—he deserved to know I was literally carrying his soul in my pocket. But what would I say? How could I explain any of this?
The vial pulsed against my chest, a constant reminder of my new responsibility. Of the impossible choice I now faced.
I slid the phone back into my pocket without making a call. First, I needed to process what had happened, to figure out what this meant. To decide if I could trust anything Zeryth had told me.
As I walked back, I couldn't shake the image of Zeryth looking at that vial with something like affection. The idea that a being of such power could develop attachment to a human was disturbing enough. That he saw himself as some kind of father figure to Cade was even worse.
But most unsettling of all was the realization that on some level, I believed him. The way he spoke about Cade, the care he claimed to have taken with his soul—there was something genuine there, warped as it might be.
I slid into the driver's seat of my car, resting my forehead against the steering wheel. The vial pulsed against my chest, a rhythm as familiar to me as my own heartbeat.
“Don't worry,” I murmured, not sure if I was talking to myself or to the soul I now carried. “I'll figure this out.”
I started the engine, the familiar rumble offering little comfort. I had a soul to protect, a friend to save, and apparently, ancient runes to break.
Just another day in the life of Sean Cullen, nephilim-in-denial.
Table of Contents
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