SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 29: The Weight of the Dead

Chapter 29: The Weight of the Dead

The spirits continued to crowd around Morvane, their cries growing louder and more frantic. Their ghostly forms flickered and twisted in the dim moonlight, some appearing calm but desperate, while others began to take on an aggressive and distorted appearance.

Drevon leaned casually against a nearby tree, a smug grin on his face. "Look at this, Morvane. So many spirits, all seeking your help. Do you really think you can handle this? Hahaha!"

Morvane shot him a glare, his frustration and fear evident. "This isn’t funny, Drevon! Some of them are turning hostile!"

With a laugh, Drevon pushed off the tree and leapt effortlessly onto a low-hanging branch, perching like a crow surveying the chaos below. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again, his voice echoing through the cemetery. "Alright, spirits! You’ve got two options: let Morvane help you, or if you’re too far gone, FIGHT HIM!"

The more aggressive spirits seemed to take Drevon’s words as a challenge. Their forms grew darker, their faces twisting into grotesque shapes as they surged toward Morvane with unnatural speed.

Morvane stumbled back, his heart racing. "What should I do, Drevon?!" he shouted, his voice shaking. "Some of them are—"

Drevon smirked, leaning back against the branch like he didn’t have a care in the world. "Figure it out, Morvane. Either you help them, or you fight them. Those are your choices."

Morvane clenched his fists, his mind racing as the hostile spirits closed in. He could feel the weight of their anger, their sorrow, their despair pressing down on him. But amidst the chaos, an idea sparked in his mind—a desperate, reckless idea.

He reached into his cloak and pulled out the small, sharp dagger he always carried. The blade glinted faintly in the moonlight as he gripped it tightly.

"If they’re going to overwhelm me, I’ll need help. Real help," he muttered to himself.

Without another thought, Morvane raised the dagger and pressed it against his forearm. The blade bit into his skin, and pain shot through him as blood began to seep from the wound.

The reaction was immediate. From the shadows around him, a dark, slithering presence began to emerge. The ground trembled slightly, and an unnatural chill filled the air. A deep, guttural growl echoed through the cemetery as the shadow beast—the mysterious entity bound to Morvane—began to manifest.

Drevon, still perched in the tree, raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Well, well. Looks like you’ve decided to call for backup. This should be interesting."

The spirits recoiled slightly at the beast’s appearance, their aggression momentarily replaced with fear and uncertainty. The shadow beast loomed behind Morvane, its glowing eyes piercing through the darkness as it snarled at the encroaching spirits.

Morvane took a shaky breath, steadying himself despite the pain in his arm. "Alright," he said, his voice firm despite his fear. "Let’s do this."

The cemetery fell into an uneasy stillness, broken only by the faint whispers of the wind and the low, menacing growl of the shadow beast. Its dark, sinewy form loomed protectively behind Morvane, glowing eyes fixed on the hostile spirits before them.

Some of the spirits faltered, their spectral forms flickering as they instinctively stepped back. Even in death, fear had not completely left them. But others, twisted by their rage and sorrow, surged forward, their distorted faces snarling with hatred.

"They’re not stopping," Morvane muttered, gripping the dagger in his injured hand. He glanced at the shadow beast, its dark form coiled like a predator ready to strike. "You’re not going to let them get to me, are you?"

The beast growled in response, a deep and resonant sound that sent vibrations through the ground.

From his perch in the tree, Drevon watched the unfolding chaos with an amused smirk. "Ah, they’re persistent, aren’t they? Even though they don’t know if they can hurt you or your pet over there. Gotta admire the determination."

Morvane glared up at him. "You could help, you know!"

Drevon waved a hand dismissively. "This is your training, not mine. Besides, you’ve got this. Probably."

The aggressive spirits began to circle Morvane and the shadow beast, their ghostly forms shimmering and shifting like smoke in the moonlight. Some shrieked, their voices like nails on glass, while others moved in silence, their eyes burning with an unnatural light.

Morvane took a step back, his heart pounding. "They’re going to attack."

"Then defend yourself," Drevon called down, leaning back against the tree branch. "Or better yet, see if you can help them. You can see them, Morvane—that’s more than most people can say. Maybe that’s all they need."

Morvane hesitated, torn between his instinct to fight and the possibility of finding another way. The shadow beast shifted beside him, its glowing eyes watching the spirits closely, waiting for his command.

"Stop!" Morvane shouted, holding up his free hand. His voice carried over the restless murmurs of the spirits. "I know you’re angry. I know you’ve been through hell. But attacking me won’t change anything."

Some of the spirits hesitated, their forms flickering as they processed his words. But others lunged forward, their distorted shapes merging into a wave of fury aimed directly at him.

The shadow beast reacted instantly, leaping in front of Morvane with a guttural roar. Its claws slashed through the air, dispersing the nearest spirits in bursts of misty energy. The ground shook with its ferocity, and for a moment, the spirits froze in fear.

Morvane’s breathing was heavy, his injured arm throbbing. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to stand tall despite the chaos around him. "If you want help, I’ll try my best to give it to you. But if you attack me, I won’t hold back."

The spirits hovered uncertainly, their aggression wavering. Morvane’s words seemed to reach some of them, but others remained rooted in their anger, their twisted forms trembling with restless energy.

Drevon, still watching from above, chuckled softly. "Well, look at that. You might actually survive this after all."

The standoff broke without warning. A spirit, darker and more warped than the others, surged toward Morvane from behind. Its skeletal hands stretched out, aiming for his exposed back.

Before Morvane could react, the shadow beast turned with inhuman speed and lunged, its jaws snapping shut around the attacking spirit. A guttural crunch echoed through the cemetery as the spirit’s form dissolved into wisps of energy, consumed by the beast.

The other spirits froze, stunned by the beast’s ferocity. Some recoiled, their forms flickering in fear. But others—driven by fury and desperation—screamed and charged forward, their numbers multiplying.

The shadow beast roared, its form rippling with dark energy. The spirits swarmed it, clawing and striking, but the beast stood its ground. Its fangs tore through the attackers, consuming them one by one.

Morvane watched in horror and awe, his heart pounding in his chest. "Drevon, what’s happening?!" he shouted.

Drevon grinned from his perch in the tree, clearly entertained. "Looks like your pet has quite the appetite! It’s defending you, Morvane. You should thank it."

As the beast devoured another aggressive spirit, it suddenly paused. Its head reared back, and a sky-blue light began to glow faintly in its throat. With a powerful exhale, the beast spat the light from its mouth, sending it flying toward Morvane.

The glowing orb struck Morvane square in the chest. He gasped as the light sank into him, spreading warmth and energy through his body. His vision blurred, and his veins seemed to hum with newfound power.

When he regained focus, the air around him felt different—alive. He raised his hand instinctively, and a rush of wind erupted from his palm, swirling with unnatural force.

"What... is this?" Morvane whispered, staring at his hand in disbelief.

Drevon let out a low whistle. "Looks like you’ve awakened something. Air magic, huh? Not bad."

The spirits hesitated for a moment, sensing the shift in Morvane’s presence. But their hesitation didn’t last long. The more aggressive ones howled and charged again, determined to overwhelm him and the shadow beast.

This time, Morvane was ready. He thrust his hand forward, and a gust of wind shot out, scattering the spirits like leaves in a storm. Some dissolved into mist, while others were thrown back, their forms flickering erratically.

The shadow beast roared in approval, continuing to devour the hostile spirits with savage efficiency. Each time it consumed one, it seemed to grow stronger, its dark form pulsing with energy.

Morvane, fueled by his newfound power, moved with purpose. He summoned currents of air to shield himself and the beast, using the wind to push back or dissipate the attacking spirits.

The cemetery was a whirlwind of chaos—spirits shrieking, the beast growling, and Morvane commanding the winds. But amidst the chaos, a sense of control began to settle over him. He wasn’t just surviving anymore; he was fighting back.

Drevon watched from his perch, his grin widening. "Now this is more like it. Maybe you’re not so hopeless after all, Morvane."