Voidborne:The Soul sea chronicles

Eliot moved stiffly through the carnage, his body aching with each step. His wound had stopped bleeding for now, thanks to the potion he had found earlier, but the pain lingered, dull and unrelenting. Harlen limped beside him, his face pale but steady, his eyes scanning the bodies littering the ground.

"We need supplies," Harlen said, breaking the silence. "Anything we can use."

Eliot nodded, though the thought of digging through the dead churned his stomach. There wasn't time to hesitate, though. If they wanted to survive, they had to be practical. He crouched down beside a fallen soldier, carefully pulling open a torn satchel. The man's face was frozen in shock, a grim reminder of how sudden death came here. Eliot quickly searched through the bag, but it held nothing but broken scraps of food and a useless rusted knife.

Harlen grunted nearby as he checked another body. "Empty. Just my luck."

Eliot straightened and moved to another corpse, trying not to breathe in the heavy smell of blood and decay. This time, he was luckier. His hand brushed against something smooth and cool—a glass vial tucked into the soldier's belt. He pulled it free and held it up to the dim light. It was a potion, its contents shimmering faintly with a dull green glow.

"Got something," Eliot called out.

Harlen looked up, his eyes widening slightly. "A potion? You're lucky. That stuff's worth more than gold out here."

Eliot tucked the vial into his satchel. "Keep looking. There might be more."

The two of them continued to search, their movements careful and methodical. Most of the bodies had nothing left to give—armor stripped, pouches empty. Whatever had happened here had left no room for mercy. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Harlen let out a breath of relief.

"Here." He held up two small vials, both glowing faintly with red liquid. Healing potions, weaker than the one Eliot had used earlier, but better than nothing.

Eliot took one of them and slipped it into his bag. "This should keep us going for now."

Harlen let out a low chuckle, though there was no real humor in it. "Look at us. Scavengers picking through the dead. My wife wouldn't believe it if she saw me like this."

Eliot glanced at him. "Your wife?"

Harlen's face softened at the mention. He slumped down onto a chunk of broken stone, the vials clinking faintly in his hand as he stared off into the distance. "Yeah. My family's waiting for me back home. A small village near the mountains—nothing fancy, but it's peaceful. My wife, my little girl…" He paused, his voice growing quieter. "My daughter's only five. She used to wait for me every day, arms outstretched like I'd been gone for years. I'd pick her up, spin her around. The way she laughed…"

Harlen smiled faintly, though his eyes shimmered with sadness. "It was a simple life. We didn't have much, but we didn't need much either. Then the Empire came. They took me,forced me to leave it all behind. Said they needed more men to fight their war."

Eliot frowned, leaning against a broken spear for support. "They forcefully conscripted you?"

Harlen nodded bitterly. "Me and every other man in the village. Most of us had never held a real weapon before. We were farmers, woodcutters, traders. The Empire didn't care. They said we had no choice. I was dragged away from my family and thrown into this hell."

Eliot's brow furrowed. "Why would they conscript people who don't even know how to fight?"

Harlen looked at him for a long moment, as though studying him. "You really don't know anything, do you? Who are you?"

"I told you,I'm not from here," Eliot replied, his tone guarded.

Harlen shook his head, his gaze lingering on Eliot like he was some strange anomaly. "You don't know about awakening. You don't know about the Empire."

Eliot straightened slightly, meeting Harlen's eyes. "Then tell me."

Harlen sighed, rubbing his temple. "The Empire doesn't just need soldiers. They need Awakened."

"Awakened?" Eliot repeated, the unfamiliar word catching his attention.

Harlen nodded. "Awakening is what happens when a soul resonates with the universal energy. It happens during near-death experiences, or sometimes when someone's been pushed to their mental and emotional limits. You've probably seen it before,someone who's stronger, faster, more aware than a normal person. Those are Awakened."

Eliot listened intently, his grip tightening on the hilt of his broken sword.

"People like me," Harlen continued, gesturing to himself, "we're just dormant souls. Mortals. We don't resonate with anything,not yet. The Empire throws us into battle hoping we'll awaken. Most of the time, it doesn't happen. Out of a hundred men, maybe one will make it."

Eliot frowned. "And what happens when youawaken?"

"You change," Harlen said simply. "Your strength increases. You move faster, react quicker. You start to sense energy around you. It's like you're finally alive." He paused, looking off toward the battlefield. "But awakening is just the first step. It's the Soul Path—what most people aim for because it's easier to start. But the truth is, continuing down that path is harder than anyone realizes."

"Why?" Eliot asked.

Harlen let out a tired breath. "Because the stronger you get, the harder it becomes to control. Most people hit a wall they can't pass, or they die trying to move forward."

Eliot processed this information carefully. The Empire's war wasn't just about soldiers,it was about finding Awakened. People who could tap into something greater, something beyond the limits of a normal person.

"There are other paths," Harlen added. "I've heard rumors about the Physical Path, where people strengthen their bodies to unnatural levels. And the Energy Path, where people manipulate forces like fire or lightning. But most of us only care about the Soul Path. It's what the Empire values most, and it's the easiest to start. The hardest to master."

Eliot looked down at his hands, remembering the pulse of energy that had erupted from him earlier. It hadn't felt like anything he could explain. Was that… part of awakening?

Harlen pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. "Come on. We've wasted enough time here. If we don't get to the safe zone, we'll be dead by nightfall,if night ever comes in this cursed place."

Eliot nodded and followed, his thoughts swirling with questions.

The two of them continued through the battlefield, moving carefully around the scattered remains of war. The sky above them remained the same,endless gray clouds, swirling slowly as though mocking the chaos below. Eliot couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was watching them.

They kept to the edges of the field, using crumbled stone walls and broken wagons as cover. Harlen limped slightly, but his pace remained steady. Eliot kept an eye on their surroundings, his grip on the broken sword firm.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, Harlen pointed ahead. "There. The safe zone."

Eliot squinted through the smoke and haze. A cluster of ruined buildings and walls loomed in the distance, barely standing but still offering some semblance of shelter. Fires flickered faintly in the windows, and Eliot could see shapes moving inside,survivors.

They approached the crumbling walls cautiously. As they entered through a gap in the stone, Eliot took in the scene around him. Soldiers were scattered throughout the camp, their faces hollow and exhausted. Some tended to wounds, others sat in silence, staring blankly into space. The air was heavy with despair.

Harlen led them to a shaded corner near one of the buildings and sank down onto the ground with a heavy sigh. Eliot followed, leaning back against the cold stone.

"This is it," Harlen muttered. "The safe zone. Don't get comfortable,it's just a place to rest before they send us back out there."

Eliot didn't respond. He stared up at the swirling gray sky, the weight of everything he'd learned pressing down on him. The war. The Awakened. The Empire's pursuit of perfection.

And his own place in all of this.

For now, what he needed the most was a rest. But he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far bigger.

Something he couldn't yet see.