Feral Bonds: Claimed By Rogue Alpha Brothers
Chapter 126: Soul Death

Chapter 126: Soul Death

Evaline:

The night wind was carrying the faintest scent of lavender and earth as I sat silently on the old stone bench, nestled in the farthest, most forgotten corner of the Academy’s grounds. The garden surrounding us was wild and secretive, like nature’s hidden sanctuary. It was a quiet, overgrown escape that seemed untouched by the rest of the world.

The only light illuminating the space was coming from the moon above - soft, cold, and silver. It was hanging low in the sky, nearly full, casting ghostly beams through the branches overhead. Its glow painted everything in shades of white and blue. As I tilted my head to stare up at it, a strange calm settled over me.

Another full moon was near.

Next to me, Kieran was sitting in complete silence with his elbows resting on his knees and his head slightly lowered. He hadn’t spoken a word since we left the underground chambers. He simply guided me through the twisting paths of the Academy without explanation, and brought me here.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t even ask where we were going.

And now, I was sitting quietly beside him, despite the storm of questions brewing inside me. Questions that were clawing against the back of my throat, demanding answers - about the man in the bed, about that place deep beneath the Academy, and about what really was going on.

But something about Kieran’s posture stopped me from voicing them. There was a weight in his silence I had never seen before. He was looking less like the controlled, calculating leader I knew and more like someone quietly unraveling.

His calm had cracks.

And now that I was close enough to really see them, I realized something that sent a shiver down my spine - behind all the power and composure, behind the warm walls he always wore like armor, Kieran Thorne had been fighting battles I couldn’t begin to understand.

The faint sound of metal against cloth drew my eyes downward.

He pulled something from the inside pocket of his jacket. It was a small black can, worn at the edges. Without looking at me, he opened it and took a long sip of whatever was inside.

I caught the faintest scent wafting from it - bitter, sharp, with a slight burn. Alcohol.

Even with my dull, wolfless senses, I knew that smell. I raised an eyebrow, not even bothering to hide the way I was silently judging him.

And he noticed. Of course, he did.

A soft exhale left him. It was half a chuckle, half a sigh. "I don’t usually drink on Academy grounds," he said, not bothering to defend himself too much. "Only around the full moon. And only when I feel like hell."

He didn’t say it to excuse himself. He said it like a man stating a simple, unpleasant truth.

I didn’t say anything to that. What could I say?

So I let the silence stretch again. It wasn’t peaceful, it was thick and restless, a tension sitting between us like a third presence. The cold of the bench was seeping into my skin, but I didn’t move.

Then finally... finally... he broke it.

"The man you saw earlier," he said, his voice low and rough, "was one of mine."

I turned to him, listening.

"He was stationed here. One of the scouts tasked with patrolling the Academy perimeter. I placed him there a month ago, under direct orders."

A beat passed in silence as he took another sip.

"This evening, my men found him unconscious. Just outside the back border, near the forest trail. He shouldn’t have been anywhere near there, but... we still don’t know if he wandered or was dragged."

The image of that man on the bed - pale, unmoving, bruises crawling up his throat - flashed in my mind.

"Is he dead?" I asked, finally finding my voice.

He slowly shook his head and whispered, "No."

That surprised me. "But he wasn’t responding. Not to touch, not to sound. Not even to your voice."

"I know," he said. "That’s because he’s soul dead."

I blinked at the foreign phrase that almost sounded chilling.

"Soul dead?"

Kieran leaned back and ran a hand over his face and took another sip, this one longer than the ones from before. "It’s a... rare condition," he said. "One even most healers refuse to talk about because it borders on taboo. His body is alive. His heart is still beating. But his soul... it’s gone."

I stared at him in half confusion and half terror. "Gone? You mean..."

"Taken," he said flatly. "Ripped from his body by force."

For a moment, I couldn’t speak.

I had heard and read about a lot of things. Potions, curses, dark magic. Even forbidden rituals. But nothing had ever come close to the concept of ’soul death’. It sounded like something pulled from myth. From nightmares.

"Has anyone seen such a case before?" I whispered, curious to know more despite the chill I was feeling.

He didn’t answer immediately. But when he did, his voice was even lower than before. "Yes."

The way he said it made my skin crawl. I didn’t press him for details, but instead waited for him to continue on his own. Moments later, he did.

"The first case of Soul Death was recorded about eighty years ago. I tried to find as much information on it as possible, but the records only mentioned a young girl being found in that condition in the woods near her pack by her pack members. The healers were only able to find out what was wrong with her, but they failed to find what did that to her or how to heal her."

I processed the information, letting my mind wrap around what I was hearing. "What happened to that girl?" I finally found myself asking, and a big part of me was scared to hear the answer.

He turned his head, his gaze locking with mine as he answered, "She died after sleeping for five long years."

I forgot to breathe for a moment. Five years. Did that mean...

"The senior from last year and the one from today... do they have five years before..." I couldn’t finish the sentence but he understood what I was trying to ask.

Another sigh escaped him. "There’s no confirming this theory. They might have five years... or maybe not even another day."

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