Scattered Souls

Chapter One

Part One

Claira’s heart didn’t race—it halted. That single word—found—was a key turning in a lock buried deep within her, one she’d never known was there. What stirred wasn’t memory in the form of faces, but something older: the sting of a starless chill, the sharp scent of lightning before it strikes, and the remembered warmth of fire warding off the press of endless dark. His fire. She was sure of it.

“Found doesn’t mean welcome,” she said, voice quiet and even, a steady answer to the chaos of the sea. Her wolf, moved to her side—silent, grey, a blade of muscle and fur. She didn’t growl at the man, but at the world behind him, as if sensing what shadows had followed.

The man dipped his head, giving her a solemn nod. Accepting her wariness as his due.

Rain streaking his hood and cutting down a face worn by storm and sorrow. “I’m Kael,” he said, gravel threading his voice. “And you’re right. I’m not asking for welcome. I’m asking for sanctuary. For all of us.”

Us. The word was breath and disbelief. She had lived so long as a singular shape—her—that “us” felt foreign, like a word spoken in a forgotten tongue the sea had once tried to teach her.

Part Two

The stranger called himself Kael, but the name didn’t matter as much as the pull he had on her memory. Claira had spent years trying to bury those thoughts—faces, feelings, fragments best left in the dark. And yet here he stood, like he’d stepped out of one of her old sketches—the one she’d drawn in the dead of night at the Coven of the Forgotten Sisterhood. That cursed place. A place she clawed her way out of as a teenager, leaving behind blood, salt, and silence.

Kael spoke like someone out of time—measured, articulate, careful. But it was the wolf, Fen, that held her attention more. That creature was no pet. He watched her the way predators watch wounded things—with recognition, not pity.

There was a connection forming between them—subtle but solid. Not lust, not romance, not the nonsense the townsfolk would whisper. This was older. Sharper. Something that scratched beneath the skin.

He saw her. The real her. And that, more than anything, unnerved her.

It was strange, having someone echo her thoughts instead of dismiss them. Still, Claira didn’t trust it. She didn’t need anyone to tell her how powerful she was—she knew. What she doubted, what she struggled to believe in, was people. The world. That it was worth anything at all.

Kael studied her like he was piecing together something broken. “You’ve walked through hell,” he said, voice low. “And you came out the other side. Scarred, but standing.”

Claira’s mouth curled. “That’s one way to put it.”

Then he said something that made her fists clench, not out of anger—but because it was too damned close to the truth.

“Everyone matters,” he told her. “Even you. Especially you. You lead whether you mean to or not. But you keep hiding. Why?”

Part Three

“I came to show you there’s another way.”

Claira narrowed her eyes.

Kael didn’t blink. “Do you even know who you are? No—don’t answer that. Let me say it straight. The people who raised you? They failed you. Broke you down to build something smaller.”

Her temper flared. “Don’t you dare bring them into this.”

“I opened the door to my house,” she snapped. “Why the hell are you trying to pry open the locked ones in my head? I sealed them for a reason.”

He looked at her like she’d just stabbed him—eyes wide, disbelief raw. “That’s not how this works. You say you want truth, knowledge—then let me give you some. Let me give you purpose.”

Claira scoffed. “Let me guess—what’s the cost?”

“No cost,” he said, stepping closer. “Call it a gift. You do understand the concept, don’t you?”

“I’ve heard of it,” she said coldly. “Doesn’t mean I’ve ever received one. I’ve spent most of my life giving with nothing but silence in return.”

Kael smiled faintly. “Then I came at the right time.”

He leaned in, voice just above the wind: “This gift—it won’t fix everything. But it’ll carry some of that weight you keep pretending doesn’t exist. The burden you whispered to the sea? I heard it. And this mission—it will call others. People like me. To your door.”

“Dark forces gather, and you—Mother of the End—will rise as the Huntress.”

¶ To be continued

- As written by Resigner Luth, June 24, 2025. Chapter one of my new fantasy blog: The Huntress©

Resigner 💜

🪝Please keep reading at https://resignerluth.space or https://ultraviolet.ink

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Poetry Corner:

The Soul in Shards

Let us not fear the fractured parts—
For beauty lies in shattered arts.
Each soul, a piece of a cosmic whole,
Yearning to reunite, yearning to fight.

Embrace the fragments, make the whole—
For in the brokenness resides the soul.

~ A poem by Resigner Luth, June 24, 2025. The Soul in Shards ©