CHRONICLES OF LIMBO: BONDFIRE
The Rise of Felicia Augustine
Whisper of The Soul Crystal - Part One
By Scotty O. White
Felicia and the Cave
“The sooner we’re done with this, the sooner we can go back to the dorm,” Felicia sighed, arms folded tight across her chest. She was clearly not thrilled to be here.
Lady Felicia Augustine was used to silks, courtyards, and carefully curated breakfasts—not the wide mouth of a dripping cave, shadowed and damp like the throat of some lazy giant. It probably smelled awful in there. Probably had bugs. Probably worse. She hadn’t signed up for this.
Well… she had. Technically. But she didn’t think field assignments came this early in Academy life.
“Don’t mind her,” Lucy chuckled. “The Lady Augustine isn’t exactly what you’d call an outdoors type.”
Lucy Seppias had traded the dock dust of her old life for polished boots and a school crest. Daughter of a dockmaster turned sponsored scholar, she stood a little straighter these days—but still grinned like a troublemaker. The kind who knew where the good snacks were hidden.
Felicia sighed. “Lucy, I just want to get this over with. There are so many things that could go wrong in there. And without our crystals—”
“I’ll protect you,” came Drix Khan’s voice, smooth as ever.
He was the walking definition of “barely trying.” Uniform jacket unbuttoned, shirt half-untucked, smile full of mischief. Somehow, he always managed to stay just this side of trouble. A charming rogue, if thirteen-year-olds could be rogues.
“And who’s going to protect you?” Tauren Leos smirked.
Top of their class. Confident, competent, and already walking toward the cave while the rest still stalled. She waved them in, pulling a small hologram disc from her pocket.
“Alright, here’s the assignment.”
The disc flared to life. A glowing image of a delicate, stoppered bottle shimmered above her hand, resting on a velvet pillow.
“So we’re shopping for perfume?” Drix squinted.
Lucy rolled her eyes and swatted his arm. “It’s not perfume. That’s the Breath of Vishanti.”
Felicia perked up, grateful for a chance to feel useful. “It’s an ancient relic,” she explained. “Said to contain the final breath of Vishanti Corvos, the Night Poet. One of the Empire’s most famous artists. We covered it in Literature class.”
Drix shrugged. “Must’ve been a day I was... otherwise engaged.”
“You were probably napping,” Lucy muttered.
“The relic whispers to those who open it,” Tauren continued. “We go in, find it, open it, listen—and come back. That’s all.”
Lucy arched a brow. “So… we take a walk, hear a poem, and leave? That’s the final exam?”
Felicia didn’t look away from the cave’s looming maw. “You know it’s not going to be that easy. It never is.”
Tauren smiled. “It’s an Academy. Their whole job is to make it look easy until you’re in too deep.” She strode forward, shadows swallowing her as she passed beneath the overhang.
Drix lingered for one last look. “This poem better be good.”
Across the Bridge
IInside, the cave was dark and damp. Water dripped rhythmically from the stalactites into shallow pools that echoed like slow footsteps. Algae glowed faintly along the walls, casting a greenish haze—just enough to see, but not enough to comfort.
The ground dipped gently beneath their feet. Though the path seemed level, the students knew they were going deeper. Farther. Beneath even the school’s foundations.
“Okay, I think I’m with Felicia,” Lucy muttered, glancing around. “This place is gross. Why would anyone keep a relic down here?”
“It’d be the last place I’d look for some magic poem,” Drix added, eyes flicking up and around, as if expecting something to crawl out of the stone.
Tauren remained focused. She kept the lead until the narrow tunnel bloomed into a wide cavern—where a glowing lake spread out before them like a mirror for the stars.
Across the center of the lake grew a bridge of massive, bioluminescent mushrooms. Their caps shimmered gently, a trail of soft blues and greens fading into mist. Tauren paused, breath caught. She wanted to sketch it. Capture it. But she knew they didn’t have time.
“I wonder how deep it is…” Felicia asked aloud, kneeling at the water’s edge. She dipped her fingers in—warmer than she expected. Clean, too.
Lucy and Drix scanned the shoreline.
“Please tell me there’s a boat,” Lucy said, wary. “I really don’t want to swim.”
“No boat,” Tauren said, stepping back. “We take the bridge.”
She ran full-speed toward the lake, leapt high, and slammed her claws into the side of the first mushroom cap. They extended from her fingers like pale bone—natural, sharp, and silent. With practiced strength, she climbed quickly, reaching the top in seconds.
The others applauded. Tauren bowed dramatically and waved them on.
“It’s not that hard,” she said. “Just get a good running start. Even you, Drix.”
He scoffed. “I am the running start.”
With a grin, Drix launched himself forward and repeated her move, landing with a stumble and a laugh. She helped him up, and they turned to the girls.
Drix adjusted his jacket, loosened up his shoulders. He wore his uniform a little looser than most—shirt half-untucked, sleeves cuffed with rebellion. House Khan wasn’t known for ceremony, and he embodied that.
Back home, he was one of too many sons. His older brothers would inherit titles, lands, and legacies. Drix? He was the charming one. The clever one. The one who dodged fights with jokes and sidestepped expectations with a grin.
But here—with this Quad, with these people—he felt something strange. Something close to belonging.
Down below, Lucy motioned to Felicia. Felicia hesitated. Her stomach tightened at the thought of jumping, but Lucy was already running—already leaping—and halfway across the chasm before Felicia could stop her.
Lucy hit the mushroom with one claw extended, unpracticed and awkward. She cried out, slipping, fingers scrabbling for hold. Nothing held. She began to slide.
Felicia lunged forward, claws bursting from her hands as she threw herself halfway over the ledge. She grabbed Lucy's wrist just in time. The pain bit into her arm, but she didn’t let go.
“A little help, please?!” she called out.
“Belt,” Tauren snapped, already kneeling.
Drix blinked. “What?”
“Your belt!” she pointed.
“Oh! Yeah, yeah—got it.”
He yanked it free, handed it to her, and Tauren looped one end around her arm, tossing the other to Felicia. Felicia gripped the belt with one hand, Lucy with the other. With a grunt and a coordinated pull, the two girls were dragged up to safety.
Lucy sat hunched, staring at her hands. One claw still lingered—ugly, sharp, wrong. The other was normal. She hated the difference.
“I can’t even claw right,” she whispered. “It’s stupid. I’m stupid. No matter what I wear or say, I’ll never really be one of you.”
Felicia knelt beside her. She didn’t speak right away. Instead, she reached out and gently took Lucy’s hand—the one still tipped in claw.
“Breathe,” she said softly. “You’re not stupid. You’re adjusting.”
Lucy looked up, eyes glassy. “You don’t get it. I wasn’t born to this. You all… this is in your blood. I’m just a dock rat with good luck.”
“Lucy Seppias,” Felicia said, firm and calm, “you’re my best friend. You’re here because you earned it. You’re here because you belong. Not because of luck.”
She guided Lucy’s breath. In. Out. “Picture it changing. Picture yourself choosing what your hand should be.”
The tension in Lucy’s shoulders faded slightly. She closed her eyes. Slowly, painfully, the claw softened. Curved. Shortened. And vanished.
She looked down at her matching hands. Felicia smiled. “See? You’re not a dock rat. You’re a Harathe. Just like us.”
Lucy wiped at her cheek. “Thanks.” “You’d do the same.” “I have. I literally pulled you out of a burning airship, remember?”
Felicia grinned. “Then we’re even.”
They stood at the far shore, the mist curling at their boots. Felicia gave her friend one last steadying look.
“Lead the way, Tauren.”
Tauren nodded. Then, with the confidence of someone born to lead, she hopped from mushroom to mushroom. Drix followed, a grin tugging at his lips. This was better than lessons. This was real.
“Are you worthy?”
Soon, all four students reached the base of a carved stone stairwell, spiraling upward into shadow. The steps were worn smooth by generations. Felicia ran her fingers along the grooves. Her parents. Her grandparents. Even the Highlord had taken this path. This moment.
At the top, the cavern widened—massive and jagged like a beast’s mouth, its teeth formed by stalactites and stalagmites. A smooth stone path led to a gleaming marble pedestal. Atop it, resting on a crimson pillow, sat a delicate crystal vial.
It looked empty. But they all knew what it held—the Breath of Vishanti, the whisper of the Night Poet.
“Is that it?” Lucy asked, tilting her head.
“What were you expecting?” Tauren said, stepping forward.
“I don’t know… more sparkle?”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Drix said. “Even nobles like simple things.”
“No,” Tauren smirked, “we just like simple-minded people.”
“Hey!”
“She’s not wrong,” Felicia added with a laugh. “You’re basically our mascot.”
“At least I’m cute,” Drix replied, smug.
Lucy patted him on the head. “Yes you are.”
The quad moved toward the vial—when the ground shook. Hard.
They dropped, clutching the stone as the tremor roared.
Tauren scrambled to her feet, bracing against the wall.
“Young Harathe…” The voice was low, thunderous, ancient. “…Are you worthy?”
Drix pushed to his knees. “Uh, what?”
“ARE. YOU. WORTHY?”
The words struck like a hammer—knocking them flat again.
Tauren, jaw set, forced herself upright.
“I am Tauren of House Leos, and my Quad and I are worthy. We seek the words of the Night Poet.”
Silence. Then a sudden, rushing wind. Air screamed through the cavern. From the stone floor, pieces of armor lifted—floating, assembling— until they formed a towering spectral knight, clad in ceremonial plate, wielding a scythe of soulsteel. Hollow, glowing green within.
“Young Harathe…” it boomed. “Are you worthy?”
Tauren stepped forward, head high.
“I am Tauren Leos—”
The scythe slammed into her mid-sentence. She was hurled across the cavern and slammed into the wall, crumpling to the floor.
“Tauren!” Felicia screamed, running to her side. She knelt beside her—Tauren was breathing, but limp.
The spectre turned, unmoved.
“Are you worthy?”
Drix bared his claws. “Let’s find out.”
He rushed in, Lucy beside him.
They struck as trained—sweeping claws and focused jabs—but the knight parried with ease. Drix was slammed in the chest with the staff, knocked flat. Lucy ducked low—but not low enough. The spectre caught her with a brutal punch to the ribs.
She staggered back, dazed. Tried again—only to be struck across the face.
“Lucy!” Felicia cried. Something snapped in her. She ran forward, body trembling, heart pounding.
“Stop! That’s enough!”
She threw herself between Lucy and the spectre, arms wide.
“Stay back!” she shouted, voice breaking. “She’s not yours to hurt!”
The spectre paused. Then slowly raised the scythe—aiming at Felicia.
Felicia flinched, eyes shut, bracing for impact.
But the blow never came.
A shadow landed beside her.
Tauren. Bruised, bloody—but standing.
“You want worthy?” she growled. “I’ll give you worthy.”
She launched upward, claws gleaming, bounding off a rock face. She dug her claws into the stone and vaulted to the cavern ceiling. The spectre fired a blast of green energy—but Tauren was already gone, leaping to the next stalactite.
“Get clear!” she called.
Lucy scrambled, dragging Drix with her. Felicia pulled herself back toward the stairwell.
The knight’s blasts followed Tauren—exploding against the formations, cracking them.
Tauren pivoted in midair. The ceiling groaned.
She saw it—a fractured stalactite, weakened by the blasts.
She drove her heel into it, using her full weight. The rock cracked—then fell.
The massive shard of stone smashed down on the spectre, crushing it in a thunderous cloud of dust and debris.
Silence.
When the air cleared, Tauren stood atop the rubble—cut and shaking, but victorious.
Her quad was safe. The vial still waited. They had passed.
Tauren leapt down from the rocks and landed beside Drix, offering him a hand. She helped him up, brushing dust from his jacket with a half-smile.
"You doing okay there, buddy?"
Drix gave a dazed nod, then shook his head like a wet dog trying to clear the fog. "Remind me that next time we take this test... I'm skipping class."
Lucy looped an arm under Felicia, helping her limp toward the others. They were bruised, scraped, and sore—but alive. Together.
The Whispered Poem
Tauren pulled them all into a tight hug. No one resisted. They stood there for a moment, arms around each other, hearts pounding. This was more than survival. This sealed them as a quad.
When the hug ended, they stepped forward, ascending the final steps toward the pedestal. The vial lay nestled on its velvet pillow, simple and delicate, almost too fragile to touch.
Felicia reached for it first, fingertips brushing glass.
"I guess we just open it?" Drix asked, his voice hushed.
"That seems to be it," Lucy replied, stepping closer.
Felicia’s hand hovered near the stopper. "Are you ready?"
Tauren lifted her hand to pause her. "Wait." She hesitated, cheeks flushing slightly. "Before you open it—before it tells us something that might change us forever—I just… I just want to say I’m proud to call you all my friends. I wouldn’t change this for anything."
Felicia smiled. "We love you too, Tauren Leos. The most worthy."
She offered the vial to Tauren. "Maybe you should open it."
Tauren blinked in surprise. The others nodded gently. Encouraging.
She accepted the vial with reverence, then pulled the crystal stopper with a soft pop.
The moment froze. The air cracked like lightning. A shimmer of invisible wind spiraled from the vial, encircling them. Each student went still—eyes glowing faintly, mouths parted, held in a breathless trance.
And the whisper of the Night Poet came.
Felicia heard: "A candle in a temple, never meant to blaze— but when it burns out, even stone will weep."
Lucy heard: "A thread pulled from the docks, knotted in gold— what began with calluses, will cradle kings."
Drix felt the whisper glide past his cheek and curl in his ear: "The star that won’t land is the one you remember— some fires are meant to roam."
And then—time resumed.
The vial sat again on its pillow, sealed as if untouched.
Tauren sat apart, alone on the edge of the marble platform, knees drawn to her chest, staring out into the cavern.
Drix approached quietly, kneeling beside her.
"Hey. You okay?"
She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes were far away.
When he gently touched her shoulder, she blinked and gave the smallest nod. "I’m fine."
"Did it work for you?" Lucy asked softly. "I heard a voice, and it said—"
Felicia cut her off gently.
"Don’t say it." Her tone was calm, firm. "It’s meant only for you. You know that."
Somehow, they all did. The moment was sacred.
Tauren stood, brushing off her uniform. She smiled—too quickly. "Felicia’s right. We should keep it to ourselves."
She turned toward the tunnel. "Come on. Let’s head back. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving."
Drix chuckled. "Yeah, she’s okay. Wait up—I’m right behind you."
Lucy followed with a grin. The three walked ahead, fading into the tunnel’s gentle glow.
Felicia lingered.
She stood on the marble platform for a moment longer, watching her friends disappear one by one. Her fingers grazed the cold stone, her pulse still echoing the fight.
Tauren had smiled. But Felicia knew. She wasn’t okay. None of them were. They had walked into this cave as children—hopeful, untested. They were leaving as something else. Not yet warriors.
But no longer innocent.
On the eve of their biggest trial yet, Felicia and her friends steal a moment of joy—ice cream, laughter, and a taste of freedom—before the ceremony that will define their place in the Empire.
✨ Whispers of the Soul Crystal: Part 2
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