SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark
Chapter 30: The Mystery of the Child Spirit

Chapter 30: The Mystery of the Child Spirit

The night deepened, shrouded in thick mist as Morvane fought alongside his shadow beast. Each movement of his hands summoned torrents of air magic, aiding his beast in devouring the hostile spirits. The battlefield was chaotic—howls, screeches, and bursts of energy filled the forest.

But then, Morvane felt it—a strange heaviness in his chest, as if something vital was slipping away. The flow of air magic weakened with each attack, becoming thinner, more fragile. From a nearby tree, Drevon perched silently, his sharp eyes observing the battle.

"So," Drevon’s voice cut through the din, "it’s not permanent after all." He smirked, his fangs glinting in the faint moonlight. "Your power is fading. Soon, it will be gone entirely."

Morvane froze for a moment, looking at his trembling hands. His breaths grew shallow, and he realized Drevon was right. His air magic was draining fast, leaving behind a hollow emptiness. In mere minutes, his magic was completely gone.

But Morvane didn’t panic. He glanced around and saw his shadow beast still fighting fiercely, their dark forms tearing through the spirits. Most of the spirits had been devoured, their eerie glow vanishing into the shadows, while the few remaining fled into the night, unwilling to face such power.

Except one.

At the edge of the clearing stood a single spirit—a child, its small form trembling in fear. It tried to run, its glowing essence flickering as if attempting to vanish, but something held it back. Morvane’s shadow beast lunged forward, ready to strike.

"Stop! Do not devour that spirit!" Morvane shouted, raising a hand to halt the beast. His voice echoed with authority, and the creature obeyed, retreating into the shadows.

As the shadow beast vanishes, Drevon leapt down from the tree, landing gracefully beside Morvane. He raised an eyebrow, a look of curiosity mixed with disdain. "Mercy, huh? Even for a spirit? You surprise me, Morvane."

"That is a child! He probably died of a young age. And maybel he still doesn’t know he is dead, he can’t even vanish, you see." Morvane muttered as he stepped forward towards the child spirit.

Morvane knelt on one knee and approached the spirit. Its form wavered like mist, its eyes wide and brimming with tears. It was a child—no older than six, with faint traces of innocence still etched on its ghostly features.

"Are you okay?" Morvane asked gently, his voice softening. "Don’t worry. We won’t hurt you. We just attack those spirits from earlier because they attacked us first"

The spirit sniffled, its glow dimming as it muttered in a broken voice, "Where is my mother? I... I want my mother!" The child began to cry, its sobs echoing through the clearing like a haunting melody.

Drevon crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "It doesn’t even know it’s dead," he said, his tone colder than usual. "Poor thing probably doesn’t realize it’s just a lingering fragment. It can’t run. Can’t disappear. Soon enough, it’ll learn he’s now only a wandering spirit. And knowing that he is young he might have not awakened his power yet."

Morvane felt a pang of sympathy as he looked at the child spirit. There was something profoundly sad about its small, fragile form. It didn’t belong in this fight. It was just lost, caught in a place it didn’t understand.

Kneeling closer, he extended his hand toward the child. "It’s okay," he whispered. "We’ll find a way to help you."

The spirit looked up at him, its tears momentarily stopping. "R-Really?" it asked, its voice trembling with a mixture of hope and fear.

"Yes," Morvane said firmly, though he wasn’t sure how he’d fulfill that promise. He glanced at Drevon, who rolled his eyes but said nothing.

As the tension in the clearing eased, Morvane suddenly felt a spark within him—a flicker of energy, faint but present. It was unlike his air magic, something deeper, something primal. It coursed through him, resonating with the shadows around him and the presence of the child spirit.

Drevon’s eyes narrowed, his smirk fading as he noticed the change. "What’s this?" he muttered, stepping closer to Morvane. "A new power awakening, perhaps?"

Morvane didn’t respond. His focus was on the child spirit, whose glow now seemed to brighten slightly as if reacting to him. He didn’t understand what was happening, but one thing was clear—this was far from over. The night had more mysteries to unravel, and Morvane knew he had just crossed into uncharted territory.

For the first time in a long while, he felt the stirrings of something greater than himself—a power waiting to be unlocked. But what price would it demand?

Morvane reached out and gently placed his hand on the trembling child spirit. The moment his skin made contact with its misty form, a jolt shot through him, followed by a flood of vivid images. His surroundings dissolved into darkness, replaced by fragments of memories that weren’t his own.

The first vision was serene—a quaint village nestled in the valley, alive with laughter and the sounds of children playing. Morvane could see the spirit as it once was: a lively little boy named Mykal, his golden hair bouncing as he ran through the fields with a wide, innocent smile. Mykal had a mother who lovingly called him home for dinner and a father who ruffled his hair with pride. Morvane’s heart ached as he witnessed this happiness frozen in time, now shattered by tragedy.

Then the vision shifted, growing darker and colder. Morvane was standing by a rushing river just beyond the village. He saw Mykal playing along the banks, tossing pebbles into the water and giggling at the splashes. But something felt off—a shadow loomed behind the boy.

Before Morvane could react, the scene turned violent. Mykal was pushed into the river, his small body flailing as the current dragged him under. Morvane wanted to reach out, to save him, but he was merely a witness to the memory. The shadowy figure on the riverbank stood still, watching the boy drown, but its face was obscured—a murky void that defied recognition.

"No..." Morvane muttered, his voice trembling. The vision dissolved, and he was back in the clearing, his hand still on the child spirit. Mykal was looking at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"You... you saw it, didn’t you?" Mykal whispered, his voice faint and quivering.

Morvane nodded, his jaw tight with anger and sorrow. "I saw what happened to you. Someone... pushed you into the river." He clenched his fists, frustration boiling within him. "But I couldn’t see who it was."

Drevon, who had been watching from the side, raised an eyebrow. "Visions, huh? That’s new," he remarked, clearly intrigued. "Looks like your powers are evolving in ways even I didn’t expect."

Morvane ignored him, focusing on Mykal. "You lived in a village nearby, didn’t you? Just a few miles ahead?"

Mykal nodded hesitantly. "Yes. My parents and I... we lived there. But... I don’t remember much after that. Everything feels so blurry..."

"You are dead," Morvane said softly, his tone laced with regret. "Someone took your life, Mykal. I don’t know who, but I promise I’ll find out."

Drevon scoffed. "A noble vow, but let’s not forget we’re dealing with spirits and lingering fragments of the dead. This boy’s killer might already be long gone—or worse, something beyond mortal reach."

"That doesn’t matter," Morvane snapped, standing up. His shadow beasts stirred around him, sensing his determination. "This child deserves peace. If I can give him that, I will."

Mykal looked up at Morvane with a mixture of hope and fear. "Do you... do you think you can find my mother? I just want to see her again."

Morvane’s chest tightened. "I don’t know yet," he admitted, "but I’ll do everything I can to help you. That’s a promise."

The child spirit’s glow brightened ever so slightly, as if a small part of its fragmented soul had been soothed. Drevon remained silent for a moment, his gaze thoughtful.

"This is a dangerous path, Morvane," Drevon finally said, his tone quieter than usual. "Spirits like him don’t just cling to the living without reason. There’s something binding him here—something far darker than you realize."

"I’ll deal with it," Morvane replied firmly. He turned to Mykal. "Can you show me where your village is?"

The child spirit nodded, his translucent form flickering. "I think... I can. It’s that way." He pointed into the forest, his tiny hand trembling.

Morvane stood, his resolve hardening as he looked in the direction Mykal had indicated. Whatever lay ahead—be it a grieving family, a long-forgotten crime, or a force darker than anything he had faced before—he was ready to face it.

Behind him, Drevon smirked faintly, his sharp eyes glinting in the moonlight. "This just got interesting," he murmured. "Let’s see how far your new power will take you."

And with that, the trio—one mortal, one demon, and one lost spirit—set out into the night, the forest whispering secrets they were yet to uncover.