Chapter 215: The Soul’s Trace

As Jonah woke up, all he could see was a blinding white light.

He was lying on a bed that was so soft, it didn’t seem real at all. For a long, confusing moment, he had no idea where he was, or even who he was. The very last thing he could remember was the feeling of extreme pain, the blinding flash of light, and then… nothing.

Jonah felt a hand gently touch his forehead, and he flinched.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

He turned his head to look at who it was. It was Vanessa. She was sitting on a chair right beside his bed. Her face was looked so worried and tired. Even her eyes were red due to how much she had cried. That alone showed how worried she had been. Beside her, standing with a calm posture was Princess Ariana. She looked composed.

“Vanessa?” he whispered. His own voice sounded dry and strange to his own ears, like he hadn’t used it in a very long time. “Where… where are we right now? Are we dead or alive?”

“We are aboard the Silverwing ship,” Ariana answered for her, with a calm voice. “My personal ship. We just picked you up a few hours ago.”

Jonah tried to sit up, but a powerful wave of dizziness pushed him back down onto the bed. “Nomad,” he gasped, the terrible memory of his Progeny’s silent death dawning on him. “Is it…?”

“It’s not dead,” Vanessa said quickly, putting her hand to rest gently on his arm. Her touch was a warm, gesture that made him remember he wasn’t alone. “Not truly. Its core is still intact. But it’s… dormant. It’s like it’s in a deep, psychic hibernation. You drained its energy completely, Jonah. You pushed it far, far beyond your ability to reignite it all alone.”

He had failed. The thought of it alone made him feel sick to his stomach. He had let his rage take over him, and in one reckless move, he had destroyed their only weapon and stranded them in the middle of nowhere.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking at Vanessa, and the shame of his great failure was a heavy weight in his chest. “I messed up.”

“You didn’t mess up Jonah,” she said, with a soft but firm voice. “Project Damocles is gone. You did what you had to do.” She didn’t sound angry at all. She just sounded so tired. And she sounded very glad that he was alive.

Jonah closed his eyes. The bright room was too much for his tired, aching eyes. He felt… different. He felt changed. The violent, tearing feeling of his psychic link with Nomad breaking had left something new behind. It had left a scar.

But it wasn’t a scar on his body. It was a scar on his soul. It was an empty, hollow place where the powerful presence of Nomad used to be.

And yet, there was something else there too. It was a new, strange, and faint sensation.

He focused his tired mind. He forced himself to ignore the mental ache that was pounding in his head. That feeling was so uncomfortable for him. It was a small, disturbing signal that didn’t belong there.

A psychic signature.

It was a trace that had been left behind on his torn soul.

It felt so wrong and twisted. It felt like his own power, but corrupted, forced, and in constant pain

It was the feeling of another Weaver’s creation.

“Silas,” he whispered, but his eyes were still closed.

“What?” Vanessa asked, moving a little closer to him with her face showing a lot of concern.

As he opened his eyes, a strange and powerful idea was just becoming clear in his tired mind. “I can feel her,” he said. He tried his best to explain something that shouldn’t be possible . He tried to put simple, easy words to a feeling that was far beyond any normal language. “When the link i had with Nomad broke… it was like a part of my soul was torn wide open. It’s healing now, I think, but the tear, the wound, it has left me more sensitive to other things. I can feel the trace of another Weaver’s power. The feeling is weak, and it feels… ugly and sick.”

He looked from Vanessa’s confused face to Ariana’s, and he saw a sudden, sign of strategic understanding in the princess’s eyes. She was a leader. She was a master planner. She didn’t just hear the words that he was saying. She understood what they truly meant.

“I can’t say exactly where she is at the moment,” Jonah continued, trying to focus on the faint and disturbing feeling. “It’s not a location, not like a map. It’s more like a… a direction. A faint and barely noticeable pull. It’s like a compass needle that is being tugged by a very distant and powerful, magnet.” He looked directly at Ariana, and the full weight of his new, strange discovery finally becoming clear on him. “I can feel where she is. And I think… I think I can now feel any other Weaver that Julian Sterling creates.”

A slow, thoughtful smile was starting to form on Ariana’s face. She looked at Jonah, and her expression was no longer just the look of a kind, helpful rescuer. It was the sharp, threatening look of a military general who had just been given the one most important and most powerful weapon to use in a long, difficult war.

“In my nation,” she said, and her voice was low and thoughtful this time around, “we have a saying. The deepest wounds often teach the sharpest lessons.” She looked at Jonah. Her eyes were now filled with a strong and deep respect for him. You allowed your emotions to push you toward what you believed was a victory that came at too high a cost. A victory that was good for one small fight, but ultimately caused you to lose the whole war.”

She moved closer to where Jonah was lying down, with her look intense and sharp. “But you were wrong. Your rage did not just destroy a single, disposable weapon. Your pain has not just left a simple scar.”

She quickly looked at the main display screen in the front of the quiet medical room. The screen showed the cold, empty, and beautiful field of stars outside the ship. Her smile was sharp and showed a new, intense, and cunning focus. For the first time, Jonah saw the brilliant, dangerous planner that her enemies feared so much.

“Your failure,” she said, with her voice a low and dangerous tone, “has just given us the one and only tool we will ever need to hunt down Julian Sterling’s new, growing army, and to win this war for good.”

Jonah was no longer just a creator. He was no longer just the pilot of their ultimate, and now broken, and useless weapon.

He was now the best, most unique kind of hunter against those like the Weaver. And the time to hunt was just about to start.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep