Excerpt from Stone Souls

Fire tore away at the wooden huts. Water dripped down the tin-roofed sheds and onto the scarred, bloody ground. The wind howled and snapped at the remaining survivors. The streets were torn apart. Houses - shredded. Every street, path and road were encrusted with blood and grime. Bodies lay everywhere; human or Spirit, no one could tell. No one cared. Everybody had their own lives to fight for.

Raindrops dotted his eyelashes, dust and grit coated his silvery hair. The wooden stairs shuddered beneath him as he stood up, starting to splinter. Taking care to avoid the broken glass, he stepped out of the doorway and onto the street, although it did not do much difference to change the view.

“Zeichel!”

Zey-shell. The name was sounded unfamiliar to his ears. It had been a long time since he had heard his own name. His parents had been washed away when the floods had come. He had been visiting cousins in the next country. When he returned, there had been nothing left. Then the fire came, the fire that so greedy it took everyone away. Winds followed from storms at sea. They were constantly waiting for the next attack. It could be anytime, or there could be no attack at all. No one knew what was going to happen, and it terrified them.

“Please, help me.”

His neighbour was trapped underneath his concrete wall, his legs pinned underneath his house. Zeichel pitied the human - almost as much as he pitied his own kind. But he remembered the times when they had struggled, and the neighbour had stared out of the window at them without sympathy. And after all, the world was ending. Everyone would die soon anyway. Crouching, he stared at his face. It was unlike theirs in so many ways. The humans were weak. They were stripped of all power the Spirits had.

“Please, just pull me free. I can help you.” He begged, stretching his arms out like a toddler.

Slowly, Zeichel began to smile. “Help? Like what? Money, food? Open your eyes. The world is dying. We don’t need those things anymore. You might as well burn it all if you’ve got anything left. Your race is dying.”

The man gasped in agony, scrabbling to regain his crushed limbs. “Please, I will do whatever you ask-”

Zeichel crouched down and gently traced patterns into the stained ground. Closing his eyes, he let the power burn behind them. When he opened them again, he could feel the fire in them and knew that his eyes had become milky-white jewels. But the humans were afraid of what they couldn't have. They were afraid of what they couldn't claim as their own, and so they tried to take it away with force.

The neighbour gasped and turned away from Zeichel in surprise. He wouldn't accept Zeichel's help anymore, knowing that it was his kind that had done this.

“Monster,” he choked, blood trickling out of his mouth.

“No,” Zeichel stood. “Spirit.”

                                               *                    *                     *

He kept moving, believing that one day he could find his parents again. Although they had never been close, they were family. Together, they could maybe escape. Everywhere he turned, all he saw was death, destruction, the remains of war.

But war required fighting between two sides. They were just the ones who were dying. All the places he had visited had been broken, empty of life. The only survivors he found were other lost Spirits, like him, who were immune to hunger, thirst, and sleep. None of them wanted to work with him, or anyone else, for that matter. Each Spirit had their own ways to go. The world was crumbling like sand, ridding Earth of the humans but keeping the Spirits alive.

At one of the towns, he stopped to gather provisions. Natural water was polluted, and food was scarce. 

Sighing, he shoved open the door to a department store. It had remarkably more goods than other places. People, like him, had to take whatever they could find. Zeichel tried not to think of it as stealing. Grimacing at the ominous stains on the floor, he reached up to take a black backpack from a shelf. He waited for the alarms to start blaring, but nothing happened. Someone had already deactivated them.

Most of the food had already been taken, but he found an unopened pack of granola bars and two bottles of water. He slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way to the register. Cashiers usually kept radios or TVs for their breaks. Zeichel occasionally used them to listen to the news, if he could get the right signal.

He found a small TV concealed in one of the cupboards. The cable was still attached to the wall, which meant that no one had tried to steal it yet. The screen was dusty but it flickered to life when Zeichel pressed a button. Most of the channels were cut off but a few of the news channels worked. 

“-Recent events at the city centre resulted in the deaths of four brave men, who sacrificed themselves in the fight against the demons.” A news reporter held up four pictures. “Their deaths helped us recapture the demonic individuals, who we have locked away. The location of the prison will not be published.”

Images of faces with gemstone-like eyes showed up. Some of them were contorted in pain, while others were scowling in fury.

“If you see anyone with these eyes, report them immediately. Our telephone number is 4093-8203-0001. Do not engage. We will determine whether they are demon or human. This is a live conversation with Edan Tersi, the man who invented this testing process.”

The news cut to a blurry video of a middle-aged man wearing dark clothes, sweat plastered against his forehead.

“Mr. Tersi, how did you develop this machine?”

The man pulled at his collar nervously. “Recently I discovered that one of my closest childhood friends was a demon. She attacked my family, killed my children. None of these demons are human. We can't trust them. The test determines whether a person is a demon or a human. If they are a demon, they react like they are being burnt-”

An explosion in the building behind him shook the camera to the ground. Flames roared up and touched the smoky sky. Behind Edan Tersi, a door exploded off of its hinges and a group of people - Spirits - came running through. Their faces and hands were covered in dirt and blood. Zeichel watched, horrified, as military troops rushed to the scene. Some of them were blasted away by fire and energy, while others started shooting.

Tersi grabbed at the camera, the veins in his forehead protruding. “Turn it off!”

The screen went blank. Breathing heavily, Zeichel turned to face the cash register. How could anyone treat others like that? Edan Tersi thought that they were demons. Spirits and humans were the same species. One just had magic, and the other didn't. Clenching his fists, Zeichel took a deep breath. Once they were taken by the humans, there was no escaping.

Someone had obviously broken into the cash register before. The drawer was smashed like it had been hit with a hammer. Coins lay scattered on the floor, and there were trails of crumpled paper everywhere. Zeichel left them there. Even if he did take it, there would be no reason to use it. Money was useless, just scraps of paper. Pushing away price lists, he found a drawer with a gun and a pocket knife. He slowly lifted the pocket knife. It seemed like a good weapon, but he didn’t feel like fighting. The war had to stop.

The sound of shattering glass startled him. A gang rushed into the store. One of the older girls clutched the end of a broken bottle. Heart hammering, Zeichel ducked underneath the counter, grabbing the gun from the drawer. He didn’t even know how to use it, but he pulled back part of it, making a distinct snapping noise. He froze.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then, the girl with the broken bottle slammed Zeichel against the drawers. His eyes flashed, and the gun almost slipped out of his hand. None of his muscles wanted to work, but his mind was screaming orders. The girl, seeing the gun, jabbed the broken part of the bottle upwards, aimed perfectly at the artery in his throat.

“Hand over your money,” a guy held his hand out. “Now.”

“There’s some in the cashier,” he said hoarsely, trying to plan out what he was going to do. He knew his magic wasn't close to strong enough to defeat them. As soon as they saw his eyes, they would kill him.

The girl frowned and pulled open the cash register, waving the money at the others. “We need more. If you think we’ll let you go because you let us have some, you’re wrong. Give us the rest.”

“I didn’t take any of it!” Zeichel spat at them. He tightened his grip on the gun, but one of them snatched it away, pressing it against his head. "You’re not going to need it. Money is useless.”

The back of the gun slammed down onto his head, but he didn’t feel the pain. This seemed to infuriate them even more.

“Don’t you know anything? There’s an escape pod. But we gotta pay up. So hand overyour money.”

Zeichel flicked the wrist, throwing them back. Grabbing the gun, he pointed it at them. "Let me go."

Snarling, the girl threw the broken bottle at him. The jagged edges grazed his cheek. Without even flinching, he pulled the trigger. A bullet ricocheted off of a beer can, narrowly missing a gang member’s foot. The scar on his cheek had already begun to heal. Though it was slow, the others noticed.

“You’re one of them,” a girl hissed. “Demon.”

They began advancing towards Zeichel.

“Stay back,” he warned. He aimed at one of their legs and pulled the trigger, but it only made a dull click sound. Cursing, he tossed the gun aside and held both hands out. ”I have nothing on me, I swear. Just let me go, and you can go back to mugging people.”

The others laughed, but it was hollow. “Let one of you go? We’ll be heroes for killing one of your kind.” A boy whipped out a switchblade, while another set fire to an alcohol-drenched newspaper and held it like a detonating bomb. Although Zeichel wasn’t one to back down from a fight, he was outnumbered. He jumped up and over the counter, shoving open the exit doors of the store. There was no time to look back. Beer cans and pieces of garbage rained down on his back. The backpack was weighing him down, but he couldn't stop moving. Jumping over overturned trashcans, he ducked into an alley.

After a while, the footsteps stopped. Zeichel ran to the town centre, panting. Touching his cheek, he felt a scar forming. Furiously, he kicked an empty soda can. It skidded across the ground, clattering out of sight. The humans had never treated them equally. Swinging his fist, he punched a wall, almost breaking his hand. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and he clenched his fists, wanting to scream.

“There’s another one,” a voice called.

Startled, he turned, his hand still throbbing. Two people were behind him. Not people. Spirits. Fire flickered in the woman’s hand, tendrils of it stretching out lazily. Zeichel blinked.

In a second, they were by his side, gripping his arms tightly.

“Hey, what are you-?”

“Be quiet,” the man grumbled, though his voice was soft. “Don’t try to fight us. You’ve seen only a little of what we can do. If they like you, they’ll keep you. And if they don’t, you’ll still be rewarded. You're one of us, aren’t you?” His fingers dug into Zeichel’s arm.

“Of course he is, you idiot,” the woman snapped. “We’ve been taught how to distinguish their Auras. Can’t you tell? We’re wasting time. They’re waiting. Let’s go.”

“What are you talking about?” Zeichel planted his feet. “Let me go.” 

The woman patted him gently on the back as if trying to console him. “Calm down,” she hushed. “We’re like you. We’re fighting back against them.”

“What? But I'm not-”

The man laughed. “You think we’re humans?” He started chuckling, the thought pleasing him. “We know exactly who you are, Zeichel Crea. You’re like us. We’re like you. We’re Spirits.”

                                              *                     *                      *

There were other people - roughly around his age, sixteen, lying around him, looking confused. He didn't know where he was, or why he was there. Where they all Spirits, like him. He had tried asking the man and woman what they had meant, but they had simply dropped him at the clearing and had left.

“What are we doing here?” He turned to the girl next to him, who was glaring menacingly at the others. Her chin-length black hair was wet like she had been swimming. Blinking her brown eyes, she frowned and tilted her chin towards the centre of the clearing, where the man and woman who had ‘escorted’ Zeichel were talking to others. Were they all Spirits?

“They brought us here,” she shrugged. There was something different about her accent. Zeichel wasn’t used to it.

“Yeah, I realise that,” he rolled his eyes. “Where are you from?”

The girl narrowed her eyes as if she wasn’t sure whether he was genuinely curious. For a second, she hesitated. “Japan,” she paused. “But half American, too. I’ve been running for three years. We have to get out of here.” Her eyes flickered, changing to orange sapphires. She was a Spirit.

Shuffling backwards, Zeichel pointed at the others. “Aren’t they Spirits?”

She scowled. “Are you stupid? Humans are always lying. Can you reach my hands?” She twisted her back, and Zeichel realised that her hands and legs had been tied together with metal cuffs. Seeing him staring, she rolled her eyes. “I was trying to get away. Help me. We can escape.”

Zeichel frowned. “Why? I don’t even know you. And besides, I want to hear what these people have to say. If they’re human, I’ll untie you. If they’re not, they might be able to help us.” He motioned at the others around them. “We can fight back.”

The girl opened her mouth, her caramel eyes burning like fire. “But-”

There was a sudden, high-pitched noise, like a metal fork against a ceramic plate. The noise stopped almost immediately, but it had caught everyone’s attention. Nobody made a sound. The girl next to Zeichel stood, but the others flicked their wrists and she fell down. She turned to Zeichel with a murderous rage in her eyes, as if to say, "See?"

A sleek black car pulled up into the clearing. The engine was so quiet, none of them noticed it at first. Others stepped up to open the doors.

Two young men around the age of seventeen got out of the car. Their startlingly white hair contrasted against their dark attire, and their white-iris eyes flashed menacingly. Twins. If they hadn’t been wearing different coloured hoodies - blue and black - nobody would have been able to tell them apart. They were beautiful, like marble statues. Both of them wore star-sapphire rings. Zeichel stared at them, eyebrows furrowed. He had a feeling that he had seen them somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember.

“Sorry for the trouble,” one of the brothers, the one in the blue hoodie, grinned devilishly. “You can call me Romar Braus. Br-a-oo-s. My brother is Broo-a. Romar is our sort of . . . honorary name. You may have heard of us.” He opened his hand, and flames rose out of his palm. Zeichel crossed his arms, unimpressed. Many of them could do it, and it wasn't that hard. But Romar Braus splayed his fingers, and the fire grew larger.

“We are descendants of one of the first Spirits that ever existed, and our power is stronger than most. We’ve grown up surrounded by magic, while you have not. You have witnessed what the humans have done - what they are still doing - to us Spirits. We’re fighting against it. This is our world, too, and we deserve our lives.” With each word, the fire in his hand got larger and larger. Flicking his wrist, the fire shot across the clearing and the nearest house went up in flames with a loud bang!

People began muttering. None of them had grown up with the luxury of living with magic; that was something nobody could achieve. Zeichel turned to the girl next to him.

“No human could do that,” he whispered. She scowled in response.

Romar Brua waved his hand, and a small glass screen appeared. “In case you are wondering,” he projected his voice. “We are looking for recruits. Anyone can join us if you are strong enough. Those that are not will be free if you wish.”

The brothers stepped towards them, who were being hustled into rows by the older Spirits. Zeichel needed time to plot out what he had to do. Would he join them? Would he stay away? They claimed to be fighting against the humans, but Zeichel had never fought before. 

While Braus scanned the teenagers by touching the screen with their hands, Brua kept talking.

“The humans have realised what we are. They’ve tried stopping us more than once, and this is only one fight of the war. As usual, we’ll just fight back harder. This,” he gestured to the screen. “Can scan your abilities and strengths. If we think you’re strong enough, you can join us. You’ll be able to fight for what we stand for and reclaim this world as ours. And those of you that don’t feel strong enough, don't worry. Stay out of sight, where you won't be hurt.”

Braus helped the first Spirit up to his feet, whispering something to him. Nodding, the guy shuffled forward to join the other Spirits, who were waiting for the brothers. There was no cheer or hearty welcome; only a small pat on the back, a pitiful smile. Zeichel watched curiously as they went down the row of Spirits. Some chose to leave, looking nervously at them as they left. One by one, each of them made their decision.

The girl next to Zeichel paused when they came to her, her eyes landing on the crystalline daggers sheathed at their waists.

“Hold your hand out,” Braus said, a soft warmth in his eyes. “We won't hurt you.”

Narrowing her eyes, she gingerly held out her hand. Braus grabbed her wrist and pressed the glass against her fingertips. Zeichel saw it light up with information. He wondered what kind of magic it used; he had never seen anything like it before. 

“Kaoru Takahara, will you be joining us?”

Kaoru blinked. “I can choose?”

Brua nodded. “You will be welcomed by us,” he motioned to the others. “We can teach you how to defend yourself and how to use your magic. Or you can stay out here, in the remains of civilisation, and find your own ways to survive. If you leave, we can't protect you. You can't change your mind.”

Zeichel had to admit, they did have the skill of persuasion. They knew exactly who to target and how to influence them. If they had been human, this war would have finished centuries ago.

Kaoru glanced at the others, then back down at her feet. She shook her head slightly. “I-I’m sorry. I just can’t fight. Can I go?” Shakily, she stood, her eyes lowered, shoulders drooping.

The brothers nodded, looking disappointed. “Stay safe.” They watched as she turned, trembling, and ran back into the shadows. Zeichel respected her decision, though he thought it was a foolish one. The only way to increase their chance of survival was to keep fighting. 

Without being instructed Zeichel held up his hand. The glass felt cold, and a jolt of electricity went down his spine as he touched it. Aware of the fact that the brothers were staring at him, he lowered his hand tentatively.

“Zeichel,” Braus sounded interested. “You are strong for your age, and your soul has potential. Will you join us? We can teach you things-”

“I don't need the speech,” Zeichel muttered tiredly. “How does my soul have potential?”

Romar Braus tapped the screen. “It means that your powers are excellent if used correctly. Your soul is what improves your magic. Without it, you will still retain your powers, but they won't progress. Each soul can contain a specific amount of power. So, will you be joining us or not?”

Dark drops of rain started to splatter the ground. Slowly, Zeichel rose to his feet. The sky rumbled in a hushed warning. If he made the right choice, he would survive the war. And if he didn’t, he would be persecuted. Taking a step forward, he slowly made his way to where the other recruits had joined.

Looking back, he saw the brothers nod simultaneously, their jewelled eyes flickering.

                                          *                        *                        *

Over time, the Romar brothers became like family, as promised. They taught the new recruits how to strengthen their magic and how to fight with weapons. They were more like family to Zeichel than his parents had been. He felt safer fighting by the brothers’ side. Over the course of a few months, they managed to destroy many of the human testing areas. Zeichel never saw Edan Tersi again. He hoped he was dead, but he had the feeling that he was just hiding, waiting for the chance to get them.

It was one of those days when the brothers came up with an idea. They were very secretive about it, but they asked to talk to Zeichel. They tried not to favour some Spirits over others, but Zeichel had the feeling that they were about to tell him something they wouldn’t tell anyone else.

“When we recruited you,” Brua began cautiously. “We said your soul had potential.”

“Yeah,” Zeichel nodded, wondering where this was going. “And my magical power cannot grow without it.”

Braus grinned. “Precisely. Let us tell you something, something the others do not know. Souls have magical value.”

Closing his eyes, Zeichel felt the familiar surge of power at his fingertips. He could almost tell where this was going. “I understand. And you want me to give up mine for our cause.”

The Romar brothers glanced at each other. “The humans have started to understand our genetics. They are learning how to manipulate us, how to limit our powers. We need to introduce new threats.”

“How would my soul help?”

Braus twisted the silver ring on his hand. “Stronger souls have stronger power. Humans have next to no power, but ours can grow. When a soul is separated from its owner and converted into pure magic, it releases a massive amount of energy. This energy can be used to jump-start potent spells.”

Zeichel tried to wrap his head around it. He didn't mind giving his soul if it meant he would be helping the Spirits. The only thing he worried about was what being soul-less felt like. “Won’t I lose all of my emotions?” He asked. “I’ll just be a shell. Human.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Brua briefly touched the crystalline dagger at his waist. “Think of it this way. You have a family.” His expression softened. “And one day, you lose them. But you don’t lose the experiences you’ve had with them, right? You still remember everything that happened, the memories are intact. Losing them only stops you from growing those memories and experiences further, from making more. Do you understand?”

“You’re saying that if I give up my soul, I won’t be able to grow my magic, and I won’t be able to grow new emotions?” Zeichel wondered why they had chosen him, of all people. There were plenty of other Spirits that were probably waiting right outside of the door, ready to give their lives for the Romar twins. “So if I’ve never fallen in love with someone-”

“Then you never will,” Braus said stiffly. “This is your choice. You'll keep all of your magical talents and emotions, like anger, sadness, happiness, family. You just won’t be able to grow them. Soulless people also tend to experience stronger emotions than normal, because your soul isn’t there to control it.” He hesitated, and gently placed his hand on Zeichel’s shoulder.

Zeichel sighed. “I understand that our situation is getting worse. I can do it. I am strong enough to survive without it.”

The Romar twins grinned in unison. “Thank you. You will be remembered a hero.” They patted him on the back, smiling. 

Taking a deep breath, Zeichel nodded. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

                                            *                         *                         *

A week passed.

Then two more.

And before they knew it, it had been a month.

The brothers had not returned.

It took them a while to realise it. Maybe because they were hoping to hear from them again. Maybe they didn’t really believe it. For a while, they waited, but most of the newer recruits started to drift away. Soon, most of them had disappeared. Almost nothing was left of their army.

Using Zeichel’s soul, the twins had released the seal that had been placed on the gates of Hell. Demons had crawled out and had destroyed what remained of Earth. The humans were not heard from again. After everyone else had left, Zeichel had gone outside to look for the twins. The only thing he had found was their rings, half-buried in the dirt. Grief consumed him. Nothing mattered anymore. For a few days, he sat there, the rings clasped between his fingers. The war was over. Demons roamed the Earth, but none of them bothered him. They didn’t see the fight in him. Maybe they pitied him. Maybe they knew his life was as good as over.

The only reason why he had gotten back up and kept walking was so he wouldn't forget what they had fought for. Once returning to their base, he gathered the information they had and read them over and over. Even though the brothers had said that he would not be able to grow his magical strength without his soul, he realised that they had taught him just enough to learn what they had. None of the others cared that he had taken it - they were either dead or close to it. 

Zeichel had bumped into Spirits who were relocating the humans while wandering around. They had taken one look at him, written his name down, and had told him that Spirits who had worked with the Romar brothers wouldn't be allowed to leave. Zeichel didn’t care. The Spirits and the humans, allies. Most of the humans being teleported away looked dazed and confused. They had had their memories wiped. They had the luxury of forgetting their pain, forgetting the carnage they were leaving behind. 

Almost everyone who had survived the war had left or were dead. Earth was abandoned. The only people who were left were Spirits, like him, who had worked with the Romar brothers. The ones that had been cast away. No one dared bother Zeichel - they knew how much they had meant to him and the anger that was consuming him.

Zeichel swore to himself, no matter what obstacles stood in his way, he would finish what the brothers had started. He would destroy humankind and create an entirely new world for them, the Spirits, the pure. He would let only the strong ones survive, the ones who were fully Spirit. The humans would perish.

                                                *                     *                    *

Title:  Stone Souls

Genre: Fantasy fiction 

Age Range/Target Audience: 13 - 16

Word count of excerpt: 4702

Author name: Amy Phelps

Why is this a good fit? This is an excellent choice for those who enjoy reading fantasy and magic novels. It is set in a completely different world where humans and Spirits live in peace. The plot follows a Spirit named Lira with the help of her newly-made friends tries to stop those blinded by hatred destroying the human race.

The hook: The message of this book is that all living things should live in harmony, no matter their race or differences. Although the humans and Spirits are essentially the same species, they fear one another because they are different. This hatred of one another creates wars between the two, leading them to believe that only the better race will emerge unscathed.

Synopsis: When Earth was destroyed in the battle between humankind and Spiritkind, the Spirits relocated them to their new planet, Ziaro. Those with the intention of getting revenge on humankind were left on Ruined Earth. All is peaceful until a Spirit blinded by hatred invades Ziaro, determined to wipe out humankind. Lira Schyros is a Spirit, who, like others, will protect what she believes in. Growing up without support from her family, she must find a way to protect the world she loves and show her true colours. 

Bio Platform: I was born in Hongkong, but I live in Tokyo, Japan. I love writing and have started many stories on www.storybird.com, where I am known as starrywriter10. I've loved writing since the third grade and have always tried to take part in writing stories in any way I can. However, I have never published a book, only shared them online. For the past four years I went to an international school in China, but now I am going to one in Tokyo. Whenever I have the time, I study vocabulary on my own and try to keep improving my writing skills. My hobbies are reading, knitting, playing badminton, writing, cooking, and making crafts.