The Bound Soul

By Troy Calkins

What are you willing to do to save the ones you love?

My name is Lura, and it’s a question I need to answer after witnessing my family being forced into slavery. At the time, that answer seemed so simple. I’d do anything to save my family. Anything. Even now, after all, I have been through and endured at the hands of others, the answer still remains the same. I’d do anything for my family, even if it means giving up everything I am, because it is my fault they’ve been enslaved. It’s all my fault.

If only I had listened. If only I had done what was right instead of what was easy. Then they’d still be here. Why did I act so selfishly?

Because of my actions, those whom I love most have paid the price. That is why I must do whatever it takes to free them. Whatever it takes...

Join me on my journey to free my family.

The Bound Soul is a small prequel book of the Broken Souls in the Seasons of the Cycle series. It's also included in the Broken Souls novel along with the Damaged Soul, Bothvar's story. The Series is a Dark Fantasy with a bit of romance. It’s inspired by Viking culture, but it is in no way an accurate portrayal of historical Viking culture. It takes place within a fantasy world that’s heavily influenced by ancient mythology and lore of many different cultures among other things. That being said, this book contains some pretty graphic and controversial topics such as slavery, sexual assault, death, war, violence, blood, mental health, drug addiction, and many other controversial topics.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troy Calkins
• Release date: Aug 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005327873

Book preview

Part 1 and 2: The Damaged Soul/The Bound Soul

Part 1 and Part 2 are presented in separate books that are samples and are made free. Part 1: The Damaged Soul tells the story of Bodvar’s journey through The Longest Night, covering his childhood and some of the hardest and most tragic moments of his life. In Part 2: The Bound Soul, we follow Lura’s journey through her childhood, up until she’s arrested and put in chains. Part 3: the Broken Souls combines both part 1 and part 2 along with part 3 into the book 1, interweaving them into one big story while continuing their journey until they meet, which will be continued in part 4. If you’ve read either part 1 or part 2, you can feel free to skip Bothvar or Lura’s chapters until you reach the end of Part 1 or Part 2. Since Bothvar’s journey is a bit longer in Part 1, his journey will start up later in part 3 while Lura’s journey will start earlier in the book in Part 3.

Chapter: 1

Another day in Tent City…

I let out a silent sigh as I climb up the wall, moving my hands and feet to the little divots and indents that act like a ladder for me to climb. I finally reach a narrow, cracked hole in the wall wide enough for me to squeeze through.

With a hood covering my face, I weave through the crowd of elves of Low Town as I head through the sandy main street on my way to the market. Every now and again, I’ll bump into someone and, purely by coincidence, my pocket becomes a little heavier after my clumsiness. I do not look at what is in my pocket, I just continue while the weight of my pocket grows.

I reach the market and use the little trick I learned to move objects from a distance. Of course, it’s magic, but it's not enough to be traced by the enforcers. Just a trickle. My uncle taught it to me among other things. As Zeeno scrambles to pick up his fruit that, for some strange reason, falls from his stall, I sneak underneath and start piling my bag full of his fruit.

He calls his Stall, Zeeno’s Ripe Fruits and Vegetables, ripe being an understatement. Most are squishy and don’t smell right. Suddenly, Zeno’s thick, chubby, enormous nose and face with shabby eyebrows and rotting teeth ducks under the stall. My eyes go wide and I drop the tazzle fruit in my hand. His long, pointy, elven ears seem to droop on him. Hey! You lousy kid. Give me those!

I bolt out of there with the bag of fruit, darting down alleyways and zipping through the people. You bastard! Wait until I get my hands on you.

Even as I run away, my pocket still grows heavier as I bump into people. I bolt down an alleyway, only to cut back the opposite way. I climb up a pillar and jump on a ledge. Then I jump from building to building. I leap a distance longer than I’m comfortable with and barely grab the ledge, but I slip and hit the wooden balcony beneath it with a groan. The air feels like it’s been knocked out of my lungs. I roll onto my hands and knees, pushing myself forward as I scramble back up to the roof. A little dazed, but okay.

I jump and land on a cart of hay before sliding down and sprinting to the gap. I make it through and climb down the wall. Now that I’m in Tent City, I relax a bit and walk casually through the pathways between tents. I slip through Glimmer Alley, where all the glimmer zombies beg and plead for another hit of that poison. They look like skeletons with splotchy skin clinging to their bones.

After zig-zagging through the streets and alleys between tents, I slip into our tent. Father’s tinkering with some contraption he salvaged. He can get a few sand pieces for the parts, but those don’t last. Can’t even buy rotten fruit with that. That’s the problem; everything is overpriced. My mother is grounding up some kind of moss. Most people come to her for the tonics and tinctures she makes with what little herbs she can find. Most of the time, she trades her tinctures for other goods and that’s usually how we eat. But not tonight.

You’ll never guess what I got! I open my bag and I want to cry. All my fruit is smashed.

What’s that, hun? mother asks as she finally looks up.

My fruit. It’s… It’s smashed. It’s all mushy, I say as tears flood my cheeks.

Here, let me take a look, she says and I hand her the bag.

Oh, we can make a nice little jam with that, and since tomorrow is your special day, we can use the jam to make a little something nice to celebrate with. You’ll finally be an adult tomorrow, my mother says as she takes the smashed fruit out, dumping it into a wooden bowl.

How did you pay for the fruit, Lura? my father asks as he looks up at me with his gaunt face. His cheeks seem to cave into his face, and that truly saddens me. My family and I have been living in this arsehole slum for my entire life, all twenty-nine cycles of it so far. I’m a day short of becoming an adult. Zeno was generous today.

Lura, I have told you, we do not steal. It is not our way. We’re better than that, my father says as he stands up and has to lean on the table to remain on his feet.

Look at you, father, you can barely stand because of hunger. How is it fair that we have to scrap for food while the nobles fatten themselves? They let food go to waste while elves down here die of hunger. They impose their stupid laws and prohibit the poor from using magic all to keep us down. We slave and do their work while they reap all the benefits. Why shouldn’t I steal?

Because it would make us no better than them, he says, adjusting his broken glasses. We may live in the slums now, but we come from the honorable Syllana bloodline. A true saint.

Honor doesn’t put food in our bellies! I snap back.

He sighs and rubs his forehead. No, but hard work does.

Not when you only get paid with a few sand pieces that are worth as much as the sand it takes to make them. We can’t even afford the crumbs from the wealthy nobles’ scraps. I’m so sick of living this way! I shout. Then I see the looks on their faces and realize I have gone too far. A sigh escapes my lips. I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault. Life is so unfair.

He gives a smile