Souls & Spectres: The Spectral Chronicles: Book 1

by Heather Wendlowsky

  Grown wild, and wanton, more embolden'd flies

  Far from his guide, and soars among the skies.

  The soft'ning wax, that felt a nearer sun,

  Dissolv'd apace, and soon began to run.

  The youth in vain his melting pinions shakes,

  His feathers gone, no longer air he takes:

  Oh! Father, father, as he strove to cry,

  Down to the sea he tumbled from on high,

  And found his Fate; yet still subsists by fame,

  Among those waters that retain his name.

  Metamorphoses

  Ovid

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 1

  Soleil

  I’m ripped from a nightmare of darkness and blades by the sounds of gunfire. I sit up and look around to make sure my bunkmates don’t notice my sudden jolt from sleep. Everyone is still fast asleep, and I let out a sigh of relief. I don’t exactly get along well with my bunkmates, so waking someone up from the rare day to sleep in would not work in my favor.

  I fall back on my pillow and take a deep breath to steady my pounding heart. I let the pops of distant gunshots from soldiers’ target practice pull me back into reality. Though it seems that I am merely trading the violence from the dream for a new violence, the war is one I greet, as it has become my new norm. Despite my familiarity with gunfire from several months of living on the front lines, the particular shot that ripped me from my dreams sounded alarmingly close. Not wanting to succumb to another bout of nightmares and curious of the stray shot, I pulled myself from the warmth my cot brought me and quickly grabbed my uniform and boots from my small sack of personal belongings beside me. My muscles groan at me, still aching from the previous day’s trek across our newly gained ground to set up camp. Our sergeant would tell us that we should embrace the aches because it means we are bringing victory closer to our homeland. I’m just glad we have a nice, dry spot to set up camp. Our last basecamp was on a swamp, and if I had to bathe in an algae-ridden pond one more time, I was going to risk desertion.

  I pull on my Geochroma soldier’s uniform: a forest green jumpsuit with my name, Soleil Fiore, and my ID number stitched across the pocket over my left breast. You know, just to make identifying me easier once I am inevitably blown to bits, as my predecessors in this damn war have been for the past hundred years. I’m quick to button the green sack over my slim form, blocking my miriad of scars from the view of anyone who may be waking up. As unflattering as the jumpsuit is, at least I was covered in something. That hasn’t always been the case. Plus, it matched my eyes. I suppose I could take that as some sort of win. I don’t get a whole lot of those, so I better take what I can get. I hastily lace my muddy boots and throw my long brown hair into a low bun. Giving myself a final onceover to make sure the scars over my arms, chest, and legs are fully obscured, I rush past the occupied cots of my bunkmates, still sleeping from the exhausting move yesterday, and throw back the canvas flap of my tent.

  I’m immediately assaulted by the day’s sunrise banking over the horizon, and I squint back to take in the camp’s new terrain: we are on a wooded plateau along the border of Mont Tien. I can see the infamous Mont Tien mountain range over the treeline. Our encampment is dangerously close to crossing into an outlying village. While the Mont Tien army is formidable and a very real threat, we are all relieved to have moved farther inland from the seafaring Thalassi. They are notoriously vicious and not for a small, newbie company like mine to take on. Nope, we are destined to be sacrificed to Mont Tien villagers in order to make a point from the Great and Powerful King Wilder and Queen Sage of Geochroma. Awesome.

  I refocus on the scene before me. At first, all I see is the regular hustle and bustle of a typical battle camp. As my eyes adjust, my attention goes toward the ammunition tent, where a sergeant with a smoking hole in his large hat is yelling at the small figure guarding the entrance. I sigh when I recognize the guard as my friend Juniper. I wish I could say I’m surprised by the altercation, but she is particularly talented at attracting the wrong kinds of attention. Once the sergeant eventually stomps away, still red in the face, I make my way toward Juniper, who is still pouting after the heavy reaming.

  “Dare I ask?” I say as I approach.

  She gives a small sniffle and looks up at me, tears shining in her brown eyes. “Ummm, I may or may not have fallen asleep on guard duty, and I may or may not have fired my gun at the sergeant’s hat when he startled me awake,” she replies quietly. I bite back a laugh, but a small snort escapes. Juniper glares at me. “It’s not funny!” she insists, “He is writing me up! Mont Tienents could have robbed our munitions while I was dreaming about cute boys and chocolate rations!”

  I give up and let out my laugh. “I’ve heard worse reasons for being labeled a traitor. And speaking of rations…” I nod my head over toward the mess hall, the largest tent in the camp. “Let’s get some breakfast. After yesterday’s march, I am starving!”

  Juniper gives a little huff and starts to march toward the large tent, her red hair flaming out behind her. I smile a little bigger as I run to catch up with her. She couldn’t stay mad if she tried. My little friend is way too easily distracted to hold a grudge.

  I can still remember the day we met. I guess it was less a meeting and more that she just adopted me. Geochroma had us placed in the same recovery program after the major ring bust they made. I had been there a couple weeks, and still refused to leave my room, convinced that the ring leaders would be out there, waiting to pull me back into the basement or inform me a buyer was here. I didn’t accept food or clothes. I allowed nurses and doctors to treat my wounds and infections, but that was only because they sedated me the first time I tried to refuse. The sedation left me feeling more helpless than I was before, so after that, I allowed them to treat me so I could watch them. It was the only contact I allowed. Otherwise, I would sit in a corner in silence until they left.

  One night, as I laid in bed, some little redhead threw my door open. I was so surprised that I didn’t even have time to cower or hide. She marched over to my bed and thrusted an apple into my face.

  “Eat,” she demanded, “We are not victims anymore. We are survivors. It’s time you started acting like it.”

  I was so taken aback that I just started eating the apple. After that, she kept showing up in my room, dragging me to our therapy sessions, and bringing me books. I talked, ate, and went without complaint until, somehow, it worked. She made me better. We talked about the life we could have now that we were free, and little Juniper gave me a reason to heal and look to the future.

  I smile fondly at the memory as we walk together into the quiet mess hall. Normally, it would be bustling around this time of morning, but everyone gets to sleep in, so the
re are only a few people other than Juniper and I. I’m so relieved at the empty tent. I hate being here when there’s a crowd. It’s impossible to make my way through without people touching me and vice versa. Sometimes, I would even go days without eating if I couldn’t get in without a crowd. After all the recovery I’ve made since my rescue, touch is one thing I never really made progress in.

  Juniper, however, has embraced touch since her time in the safe house. Even as we grab the plastic trays and stand in line for our breakfast rations, I catch at least half a dozen guys staring at her, probably reminiscing of whatever attention the small redhead gave them one lonely night in the barracks. I blow on her face, my way of wordlessly getting her attention without touch, and give a not-so-subtle gesture to a couple of the guys glancing longingly her way. She rolls her eyes at me. “They knew what this was,” she retorts, as the server adds to her tray. I snicker and we make our way to an empty table near the exit. After everything the two of us have been through, and as different as our recoveries have been, we always need to have an escape plan.

  We plop down at the table and inhale our food. I slow down to avoid choking, and take the opportunity to survey the hall. More people are waking up and making their way to breakfast. It is a sea of blonde and red hair atop brown eyes and pale skin, the typical appearance of Geochromans. Juniper blends in seamlessly. I stand out like a sore thumb with my tan skin, green eyes, and long brown hair. It isn’t a leap to question my belonging, given the distinct differences in looks. Lord knows that everyone else here does. It provides me with an abundance of unwanted attention from the other soldiers. Usually it’s just rude stares and not-so-hushed whispers, but the times it has progressed past impolite behavior is still fresh.

  My eyes fall to the table in front of me to avoid the wandering eyes of the soldiers and I fiddle with the last half of my biscuit. I brush some stray crumbs from the front of my uniform, and feel the embroidery of my name under my fingers. I contemplate the name, still new to me. They always called me Soleil. Apparently it was the one thing my parents thought to leave me after selling me into slavery. Fiore is new, though. I am still adjusting to that one.

  Not that my identity matters much: hell, my last name isn’t even my real last name, just one assigned to all Unknowns from my homeland of Geochroma. All countries have their own little surname for Unknowns as a means of staking a claim to any potential soldiers: Geochroma, the northern country of farmlands I was found in over a year ago, dubs us all as Fiores. It isn’t an uncommon practice, though. Every one of the four countries in the continent has a name for the Unknowns, which is a super encouraging label given to people found, forgotten, or misplaced.

  First, there are the Epices of the wealthy desert-filled Sohalas to the south. They are easily distinguishable with their deep brown skin and black-blue hair. Their main exports are spices, fabrics, and precious gemstones. Though they can’t grow much of their own food, it is easy for Sohalas to make temporary alliances with short-funded countries for meat and crops. In recent decades, they had even begun to dabble in weapons development, yet another reason for certain countries to eagerly accept trades for food. Their new weapons have really set them apart. Prior to those, their little country was nearly wiped off the map. However, everyone took a huge step back when they started launching explosives from miles away. Because of their advanced weaponry, an Epice is usually inducted to the creation of the weapons, whether that be gathering materials in mines or undergoing the white-knnuckled process of putting them together.

  The country bordering our camp, mountainous Mont Tien, dub their platinum hair, stormy gray eyed, olive skinned Unknowns as Hele. Given that Mont Tien is able to grow their own food in the lowlands and are world-renowned healers, I hear the Heles are treated pretty well. Mont Tien’s Heles are not always called to combat. As Mont Tien’s the source of the continent’s major medical developments, good or bad, any Hele discovered is given a test at age 18 to determine if they belong in the field or in the lab. Most do end up in the field, but some go on to help develop their biowarfare. From the rumors that made their way through our bootcamp a few months back, odds of survival are about the same for both designations: just one goes by gunfire, and the other goes by a horrific toxin developed for war following a contamination issue. Personally, I would take my chances on the battlefield. A bullet in the head sounds way better than my skin slowly melting off from a flesh-eating toxin.

  The advanced coastal country of Thalassi has the largest army and the most powerful navy in the world, and almost all are Unknowns. Thalassi gives Unknowns the name Nami, and their recruits begin their military training at 16 rather than 18. It’s a very unpopular policy, but boy, is it effective. Namis are trained in almost every form of combat, and their weaponry is a close second to Sohalas. Thalassian armies are reserved only for advanced companies. They would squash my company of new recruits and first placements like a bug. While Thalassians are similar in hair color to Geochromans and their skin is only slightly darker, they can be identified by their cerulean eyes, a blue only contested by the sea itself.

  I am still contemplating my mismatched looks when two men plop down across from us at our table. I relax when I recognize them as Fox and Jay, pretty much the only other friends I have managed to make other than Juniper. Granted, the only reason they started hanging out with me in the first place was because they were obsessed with Juniper, but I guess I grew on them a bit once they realized we were a bit of a package deal.

  “And how are our girls on this lovely Mont Tien morning?” Fox says in his typical teasing tone.

  Juniper sticks her tongue out at the tall ginger. “Technically, we are still in Geochroma, so you’ll have to ask your girls across the border!” she mocks back, “What happened to a simple, ‘Good morning, ladies! How was breakfast?’ like a normal person?”

  Fox shoots back a condescending smile. “Good morning, ladies! How was your breakfast?”

  “Thanks for asking! It was lovely. How is your breakfast?” Juniper replies in a teasing sweet tone.

  “Well, that’s up to you,” he says with a wink.

  The other three of us groan at the stupid suggestion. Juniper leans forward on her elbows and begins an animated “no way, not ever” lecture, while Fox presents the arguments in his favor. I look at Jay, the muscular blonde sitting across from me, and roll my eyes. He gives me a small smile and starts on his breakfast. Jay is like the guy version of me: an introvert adopted by Fox, the redheaded extrovert. As much as I love the energy Fox and Juniper bring, I enjoy the comfortable silence Jay affords me. In the past, Juniper has tried to convince me to “jump on the Jay Train,” as she so eloquently put it. I would always laugh and brush off the suggestion with some lame excuse about dating in the middle of a war or something. The truth is that I just wasn’t ready for the physical side of a relationship. I can’t even handle Juniper touching me. The idea of a man putting his hands on me, no matter how innocent, starts a throb of anxiety in my chest so potent that I have to catch my breath.

  Suddenly, a small tremor from the earth interrupts Juniper and Fox’s bickering and my quiet thoughts. In just a few seconds, the tremor moves from a gentle shake to a full blown earthquake. The entire mess hall is filled with gasps. Everyone slips under the tables to avoid any risk of falling debris. In our hiding place under the table, I am so close to Jay that I can feel his body heat. I cringe as far away as I can and wait anxiously for the shaking of the tent to cease so I can escape the close quarters. The earthquake comes to a stop, and there is a brief moment of silence as everyone slowly crawls out from their hiding spots. Then, the mess hall is filled with loud cheering. I can’t help but smile as Juniper and Fox cheer and jump along with the crowd. A Resonation means that there is a 24 hour ceasefire throughout the continent for celebrations and feasts. Also known as, 24 hours without being sent into battle and being shot at. Definitely worth cheering for. And for the two people who caused the Resonation, it will be a day to ge
t to know the person that they have just discovered is their Soulmate.

  Chapter 2

  Soleil

  The hall is filled with an onslaught of noise and excited chatter. I take a breath to settle myself. Sometimes these types of environments are a little much for me. I look at Juniper, who is still in celebration mode.

  “That was a pretty decent sized one! One of the Gifteds must be a nobleman or something! This is the second Resonation this year. Must be a good year for finding matches,” she swoons. I can’t help but admire her ability to keep anything having to do with the Gift romantic. I lost my taste for it after the years of slavery.

  “Come on, Sol! Let’s get out of here! We have to start planning!” Juniper exclaims. She reaches for my hand, but stops halfway to me, and retracts her hand. I shoot her an apologetic smile. I’m grateful that she is always careful to remember my touch sensitivity. I know how hard it is for her to not give me the physical affection she longs to.

  Instead of pulling me out by the hand, she leads us toward the small entrance behind our table to avoid the crowd flowing out of the main entrance. I look behind me to see Fox and Jay in tow. I smile at Juniper’s loyal fan club. Jay gives a small smile back, but Fox is too focused on Juniper’s butt. Jay and I roll our eyes at each other, and I face forward to avoid tripping as we cross the threshold out of the mess hall.

  Outside is even more chaotic than inside. Soldiers are jumping and cheering for the day off. A gaggle of girls walk past us talking about what they will wear for the feast tonight. A streaker runs past us, screaming, “WOOO! RESONATION!” and runs face first into a very shocked sergeant. We burst out laughing at their faces. I’m not sure who is more uncomfortable: the naked recruit or the sergeant who has to bring him in.

  The four of us turn away from the masses and step behind a tent where there is a little more quiet and a little less nudity. We stand in a little circle, with myself between Jay and Juniper.