Scars of the Soul (Not Going To Be Updated On Wattpad)

Chapter 1: Xincer

A world filled with war and hate for most, a man convicted of both scoffing at the idea of a soulmate.

One day he feels a tug at his soul and ignores it because he couldn't care less about any soulmates.

Then he feels pain in his side, as though someone's stabbing it and he still ignores it because why should he care? If they're getting killed they should have become stronger.

And then he hears a scream. The scream of a young child, muffled and pained. He looks around and sees nothing in the pitch black of night, when no one dares to be out.

He sees only darkness and goes back to cleaning his dual swords before he hears another scream, this one higher and louder. It echoes in his head and reverberates inside his skull.

His soul tugs again, insistent to find whoever his soulmate is.

He has a good idea as to who it is.

He feels sharp pain again, this time his ribs and arm, hears the sobbing and the distant sound of cackling.

He feels a hot fire rise in him, and suddenly feels protective of this child.

He's on his feet as he follows his soul after it cowers under the weight of sorrow.

He's maneuvering through trees and darkness as his soul tugs more and the feelings grow stronger.

He hears a scream, this time present outside his state of being. He hears pleading and sobbing of a young girl, and maniacal giggling of adults.

He grips his dual knives and sees the bright orange ember glow of fire through the trunks. The air around him starts crackling with intensity, bright blue sparking from his body.

A blood-curdling shriek pierces the air and he crashes through the trees. He sees the flame of a torch held against the girl's stomach before red paints his vision.

He can hear the screams of pain, yet they are nothing compared to the screams of the child behind him.

He hears the pleading filter through his brain, none as desperate as the ones from the innocent young girl.

He can see the corpses spread across the grass, and even after all the death he has seen they do not rival the limp, broken form of his soulmate, a child no older than 7.

He strides over and kneels next to her, taking her head in his hand. His eyes scan over her body, looking at the bruises and cuts scattered over her frail form before they lock onto the red, blistering burn on her stomach.

He pushes down the rage and bile that climbs in him, instead looking at the girl's face.

Tear tracks trail from her eyes to her jaw, fat evident on her cheeks and jaw. Roots from her hair suggests light blue, the rest in black waves spilling down to her shoulders.

He places his arm underneath the girl's legs and lifts her up.

Once he is done bandaging her, and she heals he will train her with all his might.

He will make sure his soulmate won't suffer a fate like this.

Ever again.