An unsightly dark gray box, jet-black iron bars to my right, and dimly lit gray and black rock walls adorning all other sides of the room greets my visage as I arise from... from? This is... a prison? I reach for my head suddenly as a sharp piercing sensation rushes through my now awakened senses. Ouch - looks like someone must’ve given me a good hit before I got thrown in... well, wherever “here” is. Ugh... I need to rest a moment I suppose. 

After I take a minute to recompose myself, I readjust to the view of my unsightly surroundings... except... hmm? It appears that someone is occupying my cell with me. It’s strange that I did not notice them before... but then again, I did only merely glance at the immediate area before becoming inundated by my throbbing head. They appear to be... asleep? I need to make sure that they won’t become a threat in this confined space. Upon inspection, it seems that my unfortunately similarly confined company was too not friends of those that threw them down here with me - bruises litter their barely clothed body, and their face shows signs of blunt force trauma. Still though, just because he’s not allied with our captors doesn’t guarantee that he will exhibit a congruous morality to mine. I suppose the only way to find out whether or not he’ll be an issue is to wait for them to regain consciousness... and I’d rather not sit around long enough for that to happen. 

The cramped box that holds us captive is certainly utilitarian in nature, the bars crudely made and hastily fashioned into place. I suppose that would be adequate enough, if the intention is keeping their inhabitants contained. It’s not like I can criticize the craftsmanship, as I am unable to provoke any amount of giving way of their restrictive capabilities despite all the available strength I have being utilized to attempt to do so. Not without a serious show of force will there be any way to break through them. The walls are also similarly form over function, the stone haphazardly carved, almost as if the original designer wanted to make a solid declaration about their lack of interest in actually giving the stone cutting their best work. Hmm... there really doesn’t seem to be a way out of here...

Suddenly, I hear the sound of shuffling as my formerly incognizant roommate begins to appear to awaken. I ready myself, not sure entirely what to expect from this potentially dangerous individual... and then they notice me. The already dismal exterior redoubles its unease as our eyes lock for a laborious moment. This person closes their eyes... and then - they simply grins. “Well then...”, they begin, “...it certainly seems that we must have upset the wrong people, huh? What did you do that got them so riled up?” Hmm... my initial impression of them isn’t giving off much hostility... Everything from how they are speaking to how they are presenting themselves is telling me that they don't appear to be malicious. If they are just putting on a facade, it’s a damn good one. After a short pause to regain some of my mental composure, I cautiously reply back, “I suppose we have. As for why I was put in here, that’s easy, I...” and as I go to recollect, I... I draw a blank. What WAS I doing before I was imprisoned...? Actually, what was I doing in general? As I try to recollect, I feel as if there exists almost a fading flicker of a faraway memory... but I can’t seem to reach it.

After deliberating and racking my brain for what seemed like minutes, I decided to respond to his inquiry truthfully. “I am not sure...” I start, “I can’t seem to remember... well, anything before this.” They take a second, clearly puzzled by the statement I had just made to them. There’s no way they’re going to buy that, I think to myself. If the roles were reversed, I certainly wouldn’t. But once again, this mysterious stranger proves my instincts wrong by simply laughing and heartily stating, “Well, guess whether or not you can recall why you’re here doesn’t really matter now that we’re on the wrong side of the bars, no? Hahaha!”

I was certainly floored - but I wasn’t about to look this non aggressive gift horse in the mouth. Last thing I need to do is make an enemy of someone who’s occupying the same 12 foot square as me. “Heyo!...” they suddenly and joyfully bellow out, “...you don’t suppose there’s any way out of this predicament we find ourselves the unfortunate participants of?” They sure seem in good spirits even despite our circumstances. I suppose that’s good enough for me to trust them, at least tentatively. I begin lowering my guard and start to speak to my fellow cellmate. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t appear to be that way - although the time I have devoted to that end is quite limited considering our only recently being deposited here”. The man looks over themselves for a moment’s time, appearing to be pondering our current situation and thinking over my words. After some internal deliberation, they unceremoniously and with an admittedly slightly comedic facepalm and then exclaim, “Why didn’t I think about that sooner?! Your soul ability! Do you have a soul ability that might be able to get us out of here?”

My... soul ability? I think to myself. What do they mean by that?  I attempt to remember, but for some reason my already shrouded thoughts seem even more clouded than normal when I attempt to think upon it. Reluctantly, I respond with a defeated, but inquisitive “I’m not quite sure what you mean by that... what is a ‘soul ability’ again?” Mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed into a dull gaze, they reply with a small hint of bewilderment, “You mean you really don’t know? Ah, no worries then! Here, I’ll demonstrate!” Slowly and deliberately, this unknown individual begins to assume what appears to be a meditative stance. After a brisk moment of intense concentration, a flash of light emits from their body, and what appears to be their mirror image appears in a ghostly ethereal form in front of him, their hands tightly gripping onto what appears to be a harp or a lute of some sort. For some reason it looks like both instruments simultaneously, each shifting into the other as quickly as I make out one of them individually. Before I am able to examine this projection thoroughly enough to get a concrete answer, my focus is shifted, as the air is filled with the somber melody of a track that conveys emotion beyond my ability to comprehend or reproduce. I close my eyes as lavish and supernatural notation begins to fill my thoughts, a newfound sense of purpose and determination stirring within my being almost instantaneously. What is this?! Surely I’m not imagining things... I feel... amazing! Exceptionally so! As I indulge in this feeling of pure notational elation, I open my eyes to the sight of my former cellmate, statuesque in their continued meditative stance but also somehow miraculously undoing all of their many formally grievous wounds - bruises fading, cuts sealing up, both blood and life in general returning to their face - the appearance of healthiness washing over them as the otherworldly rhythms and melodies cascade through the previously sorrowful and heavy air of our mutual confinement.

“What... what was that?!” I exclaim still in complete shock at what I had just witnessed. “That, my friend, is the manifestation of the immense power within my own soul, otherwise known as my ‘soul ability’!”, they proudly state with a toothy grin. “Do you not also have an ability of your own?” they ask, inquisitively. A soul ability? I thought he was just pulling my leg - lighthearted banter for the sake of making light of such a dark situation, but my eyes and ears didn’t deceive me. That was definitely an exceptionally miraculous presence I felt just now! And... they claim I too have this power? With eyes furrowed and a puzzled expression plastering my countenance, I start to... well I wouldn’t even know, I suppose. Do I just... look within myself? After a short while of deliberation, all the while being patiently waited on by my apparently quite musically inclined cellmate, I declare that I cannot find any kind of indication as to what they are talking about. Dejectedly and with some level of embarrassment, I meekly reply, “I don’t appear to have any such ability, unfortunately...” My cellmate quizzically looks at me, confusion now appearing to dominate his once jovial facial features, and responds, “But all of humanity should have one, yourself included! Were you not taught how to harness your power, as all should be? Was your soul archetype not defined upon your adolescence?” Again, my fellow victim of captivity has shot a stabbing, yet vague sense of deja vu pulsing through my already beleaguered mind. What are they talking about? I feel like I’m supposed to remember, but no matter to what length I attempt to ponder it, the memory fades, always an arms length out of reach before disappearing too far back into the realms of my subconscious to be adequately acknowledged or understood.

I am taken out of my solipsistic trance by a boisterous “Would you like me to help you harness the power of your soul, my friend?!”, followed by a hearty chuckle and an offered extended hand. Still in a bit of shock from being unexpectedly jolted out of my own headspace, I reply, “S-sure.”, as I reach for this man’s large outstretched arm. “My name is Hans...” he begins, “Hans Delphassen! Pleasure to make your acquaintance, even if the situation surrounding it is less than pleasant hahaha!” It’s hard to remain suspicious of the man before me with the amount of natural charm and charisma he exudes through his mere existence. Maybe this will only be a temporary alliance, but considering the circumstances we both find ourselves in, I figure it would be best to have an ally rather than an enemy. “My name is Amos...” I reply, politely, “Amos... Amos...” My mind once again fogs over, the obscured memory both existing and not simultaneously.  “That’s... that’s all I can remember, unfortunately”, I defeatedly concluded with. “Well then, looks like we both have a long road ahead of us, eh? Hahaha!” he responds, jovially. Again I am taken aback by his immediate trust and lack of visible suspicion. But I certainly won’t complain at this point.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Hans then divulges into an enthusiastic tirade of focused explanation - his natural charm giving his words a resonance quite unlike anything I’ve heard before... well, at least I think I’ve heard before, memory notwithstanding. “Now, to begin with - a soul ability is a manifestation of the innate power within an individual’s... well, soul! Think of everything that defines you, your likes and dislikes, your hobbies, your personality, your wants and fears... everything that makes you... you! Imagine taking everything that comprises who you are as an individual and converting that individuality into a visible, external source of power and ability!” Hans takes a moment’s pause to gaze over at me with an expression not too dissimilar to a puppy dog awaiting approval for performing a trick, adorably enough. I nod along, ensuring him that I was listening intently to his speech and internally taking careful note of what he was saying. “Now what does this mean in practical terms?” he gleefully continues. “How does one harness this ability in practice? The person who taught me described it like... well, he said that you need to focus on what drives you, whether that be money, power, the pursuit of knowledge, your loved ones, whatever or whoever gives you purpose in your existence. You have to think upon them, those things or people that/who give you meaning, respectively, and allow the drive and determination that gives you to cascade over your being. Once you embrace that feeling, you need to mentally visualize it as an external projection of essentially what amounts to your truest self. If fueled with enough determination it will manifest itself outside of your inner psyche and appear as my own did just a moment ago! For example, I enjoy performing music, so the form my truest self takes is a performer! And because my greatest passion is to protect and care for my loved ones, that manifests my soul ability as a healing song! Another example would be an old friend of mine who found passion in masonwork, and what drove him forward was building good homes for the impoverished, so his soul ability was a spell that bolstered defenses and allowed people to shrug off any minor injuries they might incur! Some people use their soul abilities to allow themselves to work harder, become stronger temporarily, enable smarter decisions... because these abilities are tied to our innate humanity, the possibilities for them are quite nearly endless!” He concludes his speech with a flourish as he once again reveals his soul form. As he said, it is indeed the same spectral projection as earlier - lute in hand and mirroring the tall man it shares a duplicate exterior with.

Still attempting to process his verbose albeit effectively demonstrative sea of sentences, I stumble across each of my words of response. “Much as I enjoyed your explanation, I do have a few questions about how you presented this ‘soul ability’. If one’s soul ability is dependent on factors such as likes and dislikes, goals and ambitions, friends and family, and other such factors, does that not mean that all the contributing agents to one's soul ability are external? And as such, are subject to alteration over time, willing or unwilling of the individual they are connected to?” Upon hearing my inquiry, Hans’ bright and contagiously jovial exterior immediately gave way to a solemn and graven expression - a visage evocative of being painted by experiences of true turmoil. A haphazard and dejected “Yes...” is unceremoniously plopped out from the misery-laden airwaves of the sullen Hans, before they continue, “It is also as you said. Sometimes individuals, whether it be through unforeseeable epiphany, personal tragedy, or any other number of factors can experience a shift in their soul ability so great that it causes a complete transmogrification of their soul ability into another form.” Hans then turns the other direction to face away from me before he continues to speak. “While innately this is a neutral occurrence, after all people do experience events in life that aren’t always tragic in nature, usually soul transmogrification only occurs after major life changes or stressors... which tends to mean that people more often than not experience a negative transmog when it does occur. When tragedy strikes, sometimes people become overwhelmed by grief, despair, anger, jealousy, or any other number of negative traits, and this can manifest in the formation of a soul detriment - or a soul ability that negatively affects the user when performed. To give an example, imagine that in order for Shane... my soul ability, to perform a heal - I had to sacrifice part of my own life energy to do so. These soul detriments on average are more potent than their soul ability counterparts, but any user of such an ability runs the risk of burning themselves out over time - a fate considered worse than death by most. Those experiencing burnout lose touch with their soul counterpart entirely, and essentially just become husks without compassion, empathy, or care for anyone or anything - themselves included...” 

As he concludes his despondent explanation, he turns back towards me, staring down towards the ground and averting his gaze away from mine as the now silent cell is filled with a heavy, choking air. His easily apparent discomfort at this particular topic causes me to want to try to divert the conversation away from this line of questioning as quickly as I can, as the sorrowful aura exuding from this once elated human tower of a man relentlessly suffocates the air with its unyielding infectiousness. “I’m uh... I’m ready to try it out!”, I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster in an attempt to get my sorrowful cellmate to return back to their normal state of joviality. “Ah... very well then, let’s see what you’ve got!” Hans replies with a small amount returning enthusiasm and an accompanying slight smile. Alright... deep within myself, there exists a sense of purpose, a reason for why I fight... but what is that exactly? My memory is so hazy... who or what drives me? After an intense period of deliberation, I unfortunately still was unable to determine any driving force or motivation to the caliber of which Hans described. I look up, ready to break the unfortunate news to Hans, but before I can speak, I am met with the gaze of his patient and glowing smile, almost as if his very presence tells me that he has utmost confidence and belief in me - but would be still okay if I failed. Suddenly, a feeling that could only be described as fiercely primordial starts to form in the deepest part of my being. This feeling... I want to protect them... it says. No... I HAVE to protect them! I focus on this feeling, allow it to build and build... and without warning, a bright flash of scarlet begins to exude from my being and I am greeted by the visage of my mirror image brandishing a sword of flames and kitted out in armor made of shining steel from chest to toe - I want to escape!, I tell it without speaking aloud. Lend me your strength! We have to get out of here, together! I... I have to protect them! This being... this soul then begins to adopt an aggressive stance... all the while their blade of fire begins to exude an even brighter blaze. The once red and orange sword transforms into a stunning blue color as it then quickly slashes at the bars confining our cell, destroying them and now providing both of us with an escape from the stone walls that until now confined us. 

“You... you did it! I... that was amazing! Hahaha!” Hans exclaims with the excitement of a young child receiving a new toy, pumping his clenched and slightly oversized fist up into the air in celebration. “If I may ask... who or what were you thinking of that caused you to form THAT?” He asks excitedly. Embarrassed at my true answer, I decide that I’d like nothing more than not to think about it too much for the moment, and  I try my best to change the subject, “Perhaps we should try to get out of here for now, I can tell you another time, ok?” Almost instantaneously, Hans’ expression reforms from his dorky childlike exuberance into an unflinchingly serious look of outward determination. “Right! There will always be time later to chat, our current objective is to escape!” He replies firmly. “You got us out of that cell, so you can lead the way - I’ll follow! Let’s get moving, friend!”

With newfound (or perhaps rediscovered) purpose, and with the beginnings of a mutually beneficial accord with my fellow escapee Hans - we hastily make our way out of our former cell and into the unknown halls of the dungeon...