SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 28: Practice

Chapter 28: Practice

Hiraya’s spirit floated before Drevon, her translucent form flickering with irritation. Her ethereal voice, normally calm and serene, was sharp now.

"Tell me who killed me, Drevon. I need to know," she demanded, her spectral eyes boring into his.

Drevon raised his hands defensively, leaning back against the crumbling wall of the abandoned chapel. "Easy, easy! Okay, okay, I admit it—I lied! I didn’t see who killed you." He chuckled nervously. "Haha, honestly, I just wanted to mess with you a bit. But hey, I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually."

Hiraya’s spirit shimmered with anger, her presence growing colder. "You... you lied? This is my life, Drevon!"

"Hey, don’t get mad at me!" Drevon smirked. "What can I say? Old habits die hard."

Hiraya clenched her fists, but as a spirit, she was powerless to do anything but glare at him. Her frustration hung in the air like a storm about to break.

Morvane, standing off to the side, watched the interaction silently, his brow furrowed in thought. Drevon turned to him with a grin.

"So, Morvane, you’re going to help her, right?" Drevon asked, his tone almost teasing. "I mean, you’re the only one who can see her besides me, and it seems like she’s convinced you’re the key to... whatever this is."

Morvane crossed his arms, his expression serious. "If she thinks I’m the key, then I’ll help her. But I need answers too, Drevon. What do you know about all of this?"

Drevon’s playful smirk faded slightly, replaced by something darker. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I know more than I let on, Morvane. But some things... some truths are better left buried. Trust me on that."

Hiraya’s spirit hovered between them, her anger giving way to a desperate determination. "I don’t care about buried truths. I want justice, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it. Morvane, please..."

Morvane looked at her, then at Drevon, and nodded. "We’ll uncover the truth, Hiraya. No matter what it takes."

Drevon laughed softly, his tone laced with a hint of foreboding. "Well, I hope you’re ready, then. Because once you start digging, there’s no turning back."

The dinner table was filled with an uneasy silence. Crimson, Drevon, Medas, and Morvane sat in their respective seats, while Hiraya’s spirit lingered by Morvane’s side. The warm glow of the candles failed to lighten the tension that lingered in the air.

Medas cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. "Is Hiraya... okay?" he asked, glancing at Morvane, who was the only one aside Drevon who are able to see and communicate with her.

Morvane turned his head slightly, addressing Hiraya directly. "Hiraya, Medas wants to know if you’re okay. Should I tell him anything?"

Hiraya, who had been silent and contemplative since the end of their earlier conversation, nodded faintly. "Tell him I’m fine... for now," she said, her voice tinged with weariness.

Morvane relayed her words. "She says she’s fine. For now."

Medas nodded but looked unsure. His worry for her was evident. "Good to hear. But I wish I could speak to her myself."

Morvane hesitated before speaking. "Do you want to talk to her directly, Medas? I’ll let her use my body again if it’ll help."

Before Morvane could finish, Medas interjected sharply. "No, Morvane. That’s not an option."

Hiraya nodded in agreement. "He’s right. The last time I possessed you, it drained so much of your energy that you were in a coma for weeks. I won’t risk that happening again."

Crimson, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. "You can’t keep pushing yourself like that, Morvane. You’ll burn out. Besides, there are other ways to help her."

Drevon leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Well, if you don’t train yourself to handle being possessed, you’ll never get better at it. Your power won’t grow unless you push your limits."

Morvane glanced at him, a mix of curiosity and skepticism in his eyes. "Then tell me, Drevon. What should I do to get better at this?"

Drevon shrugged casually, as if the answer were obvious. "Just try. And then try again. And again. Practice makes perfect, you know."

Morvane frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the vague advice. "That’s not exactly helpful, Drevon."

Hiraya floated closer to Morvane, her gaze softening. "He’s right about one thing, though," she said quietly. "You have to train yourself. But not at the cost of your health, Morvane. We’ll find another way."

Crimson pushed his chair back and stood up. "Enough for tonight. We all need rest. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together."

The group dispersed, leaving Morvane alone with Hiraya’s spirit. As the flickering candlelight dimmed, Morvane whispered, "We’ll find a way, Hiraya. I promise."

Her voice, gentle but determined, replied, "I believe you, Morvane. I just hope we’re ready for what’s coming."

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The next day came, and the royal library was quiet except for the faint rustle of pages and the occasional creak of old wooden shelves. Sunlight streamed through tall stained-glass windows, illuminating rows of ancient tomes. Drevon and Morvane sat at a secluded corner table, stacks of books between them.

Drevon leaned back in his chair, his expression unusually serious as he addressed Morvane. "You need to understand, Morvane. Your unusual power—it’s not something you can just leave untamed. It requires practice. Dedication. And maybe a bit of risk."

Morvane, still half-focused on the book he was reading, glanced up. "I get that. But how do I even begin? It’s not like there’s a manual for this sort of thing."

Drevon smirked, tapping the table. "That’s why you’ve got me. Let’s start with the basics. You can see spirits, which is rare enough as it is. If you want to master this ability, you need to immerse yourself in it. Let it become second nature to you."

Morvane closed his book and looked at him directly. "And how do I do that?"

Drevon’s grin widened as he leaned forward, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "Where do you think is a place where lots of spirits reside?"

Morvane blinked, caught off guard by the question. He wracked his brain for an answer but came up blank. "I... I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it."

Drevon rolled his eyes dramatically. "Seriously? No guesses at all?"

When Morvane stayed silent, Drevon shook his head in mock disappointment. "The cemetery, Morvane. A graveyard. The one place where the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest. If you want to get comfortable with seeing spirits, that’s where you need to start."

Morvane frowned, his stomach twisting at the thought. "You’re saying I should just... hang out in a cemetery? That sounds more like inviting trouble than training."

Drevon shrugged. "Trouble builds character. Besides, it’s not as bad as you think. Spirits tend to keep to themselves—unless you give them a reason not to."

Morvane leaned back, considering the suggestion. It felt reckless, but he couldn’t deny the logic. If he was going to get better at this, he had to face his fears head-on.

"Fine," Morvane said after a long pause. "I’ll do it. But if this goes horribly wrong, I’m blaming you."

Drevon laughed, a mischievous glint in his eye. "That’s the spirit! No pun intended. We’ll head there tonight. Just you, me, and a whole lot of ghosts. What could possibly go wrong?"

Morvane groaned, already regretting his decision. As Drevon began to lay out their plan for the evening, the weight of what was to come settled heavily on Morvane’s shoulders. He could only hope this training would be worth the risk.

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The moon hung low in the night sky as Morvane and Drevon approached the cemetery gates. The iron bars creaked ominously as Drevon pushed them open, revealing a sea of gravestones illuminated by the pale silver glow of moonlight. The air was heavy, and an unsettling stillness surrounded them.

Morvane’s hands were clammy, but he clenched them into fists, determined to mask his fear. "This place is... something else," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Drevon chuckled softly, his tone light despite the eerie atmosphere. "Oh, don’t be such a baby. You’ve got me here, remember?"

As they stepped deeper into the cemetery, Morvane’s breath hitched. The once-empty air began to shimmer, and suddenly the grounds were teeming with spirits. They floated above the graves, some resembling ordinary Baltalahans in spectral form, while others looked twisted and unnatural—distorted by whatever torment they had carried into death.

Despite the frightening sight, the spirits seemed unaware of the two intruders. They moved aimlessly, some weeping, others staring blankly into the void.

Drevon, unfazed, strolled forward with a confident swagger. Morvane followed cautiously, his eyes darting to every corner.

"They don’t seem to notice us," Morvane whispered, trying to reassure himself.

"They won’t," Drevon said casually. "Unless, of course, you give them a reason to."

Before Morvane could question him, Drevon abruptly stopped, turned toward the largest gathering of spirits, and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"HEY, ESTEEMED SPIRITS!" Drevon bellowed, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife.

Morvane froze, his heart plummeting. "Drevon, what the hell are you—"

Drevon continued, ignoring him. "My friend here can see you guys! Not only that, but he can help you with your unfinished business. So come forth and speak with him!"

For a moment, there was silence. Then the spirits began to stir. One by one, they turned toward Morvane, their ghostly faces lighting up with a strange mixture of hope and desperation.

Morvane’s blood ran cold as the air grew thick with energy. "Drevon, you idiot—"

Before he could finish, a flock of spirits surged toward him, their forms shifting and merging into a chaotic swarm. They surrounded him, their voices overlapping in a deafening chorus.

"Help me find my child!"

"I need justice!"

"Tell my wife I’m sorry!"

"Make the pain stop!"

Morvane stumbled back, his senses overwhelmed by the cacophony. The cold, weightless touch of the spirits made his skin crawl, and panic began to set in.

Drevon stood off to the side, watching with an amused expression. "Well, looks like you’ve got your hands full. This is great practice!"

"Practice?!" Morvane yelled, his voice cracking. "I’m going to kill you, Drevon!"

But as the spirits continued to clamor around him, their desperation and sorrow became impossible to ignore. Gritting his teeth, Morvane forced himself to stand his ground. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm within him.

"Alright!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the noise. "One at a time! I’ll do what I can, but you have to give me space!"

To his surprise, the spirits began to quiet down, their chaotic movements slowing. They hovered before him, their faces filled with expectation.

Drevon smirked, crossing his arms. "See? You’ve got this. Now let’s see what you’re really made of."