“Did that finally shut you up?” Cleo said, her eyes cold.

Nathan collapsed onto his knees, the bolt sticking all the way through his torso and out the other side. Blood pooled around the wound, dampening his leather chestpiece and sticking it to his skin. It was warm.

“Y… you,” he sputtered, eyes quivering in shock as he watched Cleo.

She walked a slow circle around him, face expressionless as his blood began to seep out the hole in his chestpiece. She raised a singular dark brow, as if she were at a museum, looking at a piece of art that she didn’t particularly like.

Cleo kneeled down in front of Nathan, eyes level to his. Every second felt like hours. His head was beginning to spin. Another ragged gasp escaped his lips, blood bubbling on them.

“Me,” she said, face still without even a hint of a smile. “I win, Nathan.” She reached out a hand, fingers splayed, and placed it on Nathan’s chest, staining her fingers red with his blood. The bolt extended back through the gap between her middle and ring finger, a bridge, a connecting thread between them.

The bolt shifted to a red color, stretching from Nathan’s chest to Cleo’s.

“And you lose,” Cleo whispered.

And then her eyes went wide. She gasped, hand going to her own chest as a dark crimson ring expanded, seeping through her shirt.

Nathan’s mind flashed back to one of the Traits that had been listed in his strange status screen, and it made sense. Soulchained. Specifically, one line in particular.

Damage to either entity's soul will be shared amongst both.

Nathan laughed. It sent spasms of pain writhing through his body, shooting like eels of lightning down his limbs and convulsing in his chest, but he laughed. Blood bubbled up from his mouth, popping on his lips and marking his mouth red. He fell backward onto his back, staring up at the sun-dappled leaves. And he laughed more.

“You stupid, vindictive old hag,” Nathan chuckled between ragged gasps. “Did you not read the messages in front of your fucking face? We’re bound Cleo. The universe has judged us, and found us deserving of each other.” He coughed again. “Fitting, isn’t it?”

Cleo collapsed onto the ground next to Nathan, face in the ruddy dirt, leaves becoming a bloody autumn. She tried to speak, but no noise came from her lips. Her eyes burned with the hatred of decades. Another wave of weakness washed over Nathan’s body.

“Neither of us are going to live through this. You’ve finally done it, Cleo. You’ve killed us both. Congratu-fucking-lations.”

The assassin finally found her words. “Better… to both die by my hand… than neither,” she rasped, the corners of her lips curling into a pathetic smile.

“God, you can’t really believe that, can you?” Nathan said. “Where’s your desire to finally live?”

“We’re assassins,” Cleo said with a weak laugh. “Why do you have a desire to live at all?”

“Because now… I think I have a reason to,” Nathan said, forcing his body to get up. His chest burned with a fiery protest, the corners of his vision growing dark and blurry, but still he rose. He pulled himself to his feet, grasping at a nearby branch and using it for leverage, then reached down and grabbed Cleo’s shoulder.

A glow of emerald green mixed with black, like ink dropped in a fresh spring, shone from Nathan’s palm as his hand touched Cleo. I’m starting to hallucinate, he thought, pulling Cleo up.

“Come on,” he said, voice strained with pain. “We’re in this together now, whether you like it or not. I’m not letting you drag me down… Not until I can figure out how to kill you without also killing myself.”

Cleo grimaced, but did not resist. She stumbled to her feet, leaning her weight on Nathan. Had Nathan been shot straight through the chest in his previous life, he would already have been dead. But here, his body felt stronger, more durable than it had ever been. A force of life that was more than just blood coursed through him, surging him onward.

The two assassins dragged themselves to edges of the forest, pain intensifying with every step. Nathan didn’t know what they would do once out of the forest. Neither of them knew anything or anyone.

There’s magic in this world. Maybe I can find some sort of priest or healer and threaten them into fixing us. If we can just get to the gates of the city, maybe we can survive.

That would not be an easy task. The pain had intensified beyond belief. It felt as though Nathan’s soul itself were breaking into jagged pieces. He’d been shot, stabbed, and poisoned dozens of times – mostly by Cleo – but none of it held a candle to this.

“Just give it up, you fool,” Cleo groaned from his side, her feet dragging troughs of dirt and leaves as she walked. “We lived long lives. Let me rest. Maybe we’ll just be cursed to be reborn again in another world.”

Nathan gritted his teeth, eyes fixated on the city still nearly a mile away from them. He would not give in. “Long lives, yes,” he said. “But full lives? Not even close.”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Down below, the city continued its life, unaware of their struggles. Thin trails of dirty smoke snaked through the air and into the clouds from dozens or hundreds of chimneys. Like distant candles that had been blown out. The boats and people continued their slow trek through the gates and rivers.

As Nathan and Cleo took their first unsteady steps down the hill, he heard voices. He looked around with blurry vision, searching for the source of the voices. Less than a hundred feet away, stood two men. The ones that had been driving the donkey-pulled cart.

“Hey,” Nathan groaned, his voice barely audible over the soft breeze. “Hey!” he called again.

The larger of the pair noticed Nathan and Cleo, and nudged his companion in the ribs. The companion, not knowing why he had been elbowed, smacked the large one on the shoulder with the back of his hand. That just earned him another, slightly more aggressive, nudge. He then turned and saw the two assassins.

The two had a quick word under their breath that Nathan could not hear, and then began their approach. The big man was big. A brute of a man with a two by four for a browline and biceps as big around as Nathan’s calves. He didn’t look the friendly type.

“Help,” Nathan said, voice weak as the two came closer. “Healer. We need a healer.”

The smaller one – the one that had been driving the cart – looked Cleo and Nathan up and down with a curious eye, undoubtedly noticing the blood and bolt protruding from Nathan’s chest. He had a shrewd, mouselike face and moved with the grace of a prowling cat. When he muttered something, Nathan was able to spot the glint of a gold tooth catching the sunlight.

Walk faster, damn it. Can’t you see we’re dying?

They stopped in the middle of the path, about twenty feet ahead. The big one gave a lopsided smile, tipping his head forward in greeting. “Ho, stranger,” he said. “You look to be in some rough shape.”

“Healer,” Nathan repeated, continuing his limp forward, practically dragging Cleo along. Even without a bolt feathering out of her torso, she looked to be in an even worse state than Nathan. “Medicine. In your cart.” He thrust a limp arm in the direction of their cart. “Anything.”

The world was fading fast. His vision blurred at the edges, legs threatening to slip out from under him.

“Come now,” the ratlike man said, crossing his arms over his chest and standing firmly in the middle of the road to the city. “No need to be so hasty. Mighty rude to be demanding things before you even introduce yourself, don’t you think?”

Honorless thieves. Nathan may have been a killer. But he liked to believe that he was an honorable one.

“If you have nothing for us,” Nathan growled, eyes glowering toward the two, fingers tightening into a feeble fist. “Then get out of our way.”

The rat man grinned, cocky. “No can do,” he said. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I up and left a beautiful young couple like yourselves to die on your way to Aelsport.”

Nathan was too focused to correct the man. Cleo spat a glob of blood to the dirt in derision, then muttered something Nathan couldn’t make out. Probably, if he and I are ever a couple, please do leave us to die.

“No, no, that just wouldn’t do, now would it?” The smaller man said as the larger one took a lumbering step forward. “So, just give us some coin, and we’ll gladly help you to the city.”

Cleo’s fingers slipped off of Nathan’s arm and she collapsed to a heap in the road. Had Nathan been in a better mood, he’d have laughed.

“Oh, better hurry up now,” the man chuckled. “She doesn’t look to have much time left.”

Then neither do I.

The giant of a man reached out toward Nathan. His motions were confident, making him predictable. He moved with the assuredness of a hunter grabbing a dead rabbit from his snare. Nobody ever expects the rabbit to fight back. Least of all the rabbit.

Nathan moved on pure instinct. His body shifted out of the way, the brute’s arms passing harmlessly over him.

Then – with all the strength he could muster – Nathan slammed his fist into the man’s chest. It did a pitiful amount of damage. Like a child, hitting their older brother, it only looked to make the brute angrier.

The man swung, his arm moving with enough force to take the head off a horse. Nathan took a step back, suddenly not as confident as he had been but a moment before. In his decades as a professional killer, he’d fought all manner of people in all manner of situations. The meathead brute was nothing new.

But the flickering red glow around the man’s arms, the way his muscles bulged with a supernatural rage, and his veins looked to pulse with fire and brimstone – that was definitely new.

The thug bellowed, feet falling heavy on the ground as he came at Nathan like a falling rock. The assassin leaned back as a fist rocketed in front of his face, the force of it blowing his hair back. He could feel a heat coming from the man’s arm. The warmth of it nearly made his skin sweat.

Despite being on death’s door, Nathan’s arm moved forward, grasping around the brute’s wrist and squeezing. His hands singed, the heat from the brute’s arms intense, but he held tight. He didn’t truly know what he was doing, he was just doing what felt right.

A power flooded through his veins, pleading to be used. Voices echoed in his skull, pounding, demanding to be let out. They sought a purpose. Who was Nathan to deny them?

Bones crunched. Nathan let go of the brute’s wrist before the heat became too much to bear. The man wailed, falling to his knees, cradling his destroyed wrist. Any pity Nathan may have felt for the man was drowned out by the echoes in his head. He’d cast his lot, now he was dealing with the consequences.

Why is everyone so adamant on making an enemy of me?

Nathan’s face twisted in disgust as he looked down at the pitiful man. He reached forward, grasping the man by the top of the head. His vision had been reduced to pinpricks. Consciousness was quickly fading.

What came next felt as natural water flowing through a river. A cold, dull green flame appeared in Nathan’s palm. It crackled upon the man’s head, searing away his hair and blackening his skin. The thug convulsed, a scream tearing past his lips. And his eyes…

They were the worst part. They boiled. Bubbling and bulging from his face, before bursting with a gout of the same dull green flame. The flame was sucked up into Nathan’s palm, leaving vacant husks where the man's eyes once were. With the flame, came energy. Life.

The wound in his chest felt shallower. The darkness in his vision receded just barely, like a man holding a single candle in a vast basement. On the ground below, Cleo took a sputtering, coughing breath.

And then the brute’s screaming stopped, a haunting face of green fire floating up from the man’s body and into Nathan’s palm. The man’s body fell limp to the ground, color drained from his skin, hollow eyes staring unblinking at the ashen sky.

What the hell did I just do?

89 EXP gained

Echo gained.

Echoes Stored: [1/3]