had broken a tiny tip of his horn off at some point. Beyond that, the only thing concerning was the extensive amounts of grey-covered skin.
He figured out why my gaze had paused and shook his massive head, sighing. “Not mine,” rumbled from him, and he stomped on a hand reaching out for his leg.
My eyes swung to Axton, whose hair stuck up everywhere. I spotted a bald patch, one about the size of a fist. His eyes seemed tired as he met my gaze and nodded. His lips barely tipped up as he tried to reassure me, but he didn’t seem to have enough energy to do more than that. A single blade protruded from his upper left arm, an explanation for why he stopped changing forms. Blood leaked down his torn cloak slowly, but it wasn’t gushing, so I turned back to the causes of his injuries.
They lay on the floor, some with hands over their ears while others curled into a ball and wept. A few tried to get to their feet or held a little too much anger in their eyes. So I dipped my fingers into my well again and sent another pulse of the disabling emotions. Subconsciously, I instructed them to avoid Trace and Axton, and somehow, they did.
Trace stepped over a pile of body parts and bodies, his eyes locked on me. I stopped him with a gesture towards Axton, who stood swaying and blinking as if his vision was compromised. He’d lost enough blood that it had affected him, so he’d need help, and I wasn’t sure I’d be capable of doing so.
An urge inside of me begged me to refill my well, to replace all the fear and horror and sorrow that I’d used up. I knew if I touched the trio, I’d do something to pull it out of them. The boost of energy I’d received seemed to be waning. My muscles no longer felt strong and efficient, and my bones ached.
Worst of all, that sensation that I’d lost a part of myself was growing, gaining in intensity parallel to my physical weakening. Tears burned paths down my cheeks as I searched for my monster, but all I found was the vines that threaded through my entire self.
“Hey, are you okay? Why are you covered in blood?”
The deep, gravelly voice yanked me from my search, and I blinked. Axton leaned on Trace, who remained in his Demon form. My gaze snapped to his arm, and a breath whooshed out when I spotted a black bandage wrapping his injury. Axton smiled, but he seemed exhausted as if only Trace kept him upright.
I looked to Trace, then dropped my gaze to his torn uniform and sticky cloak. “You’re one to talk,” I said and jutted out my chin.
“Yeah, but this isn’t mine,” he countered.
I shrugged. “I’m fine. Sit Axton by the door, and let’s get to work. They won’t be down forever,” I ordered, sweeping my hand towards the minds I’d need to ravage.
Perhaps I should have felt bad about killing the incapacitated Reapers and allowed them to at least fight for their lives. Yet, when I probed inside, not a hint of guilt or concern appeared to discourage me. I’d been in the memories of three of them, and I knew they didn’t deserve such kindness. They’d been assisting something so horrid, all hoping they would be elevated to a position where they could do the same thing. No, their death should have been much more painful.
Trace hesitated, but it was Axton that voiced their worry. I could feel it rolling off them, and I sucked it down as he questioned me.
“Will you murder them as they lay there unable to defend themselves?” he asked, a touch of scorn in his tone.
Instead of answering, I reached out with both hands, laying one on each of them. In an instant, I had a scene picked, and I pushed it into their brains, allowing it to play out.
Reapers stood around the room where the odd soul soup pot sat. Corlia, in a red cloak, flipped up his hood and waited at the rear of the room with a line of others in red cloaks. The view shifted as the Reaper turned to watch yet another red-covered being enter with a twisting soul in his grip. They dropped it into a slot and took their place in the line. Time passed while chants filled the air. I couldn’t understand the words because they were in