The Soul That Ran
Harry barely slept that night. The image of the spirit with the severed chain haunted his mind, stirring something deep in his gut—an instinct that had saved his life more times than he could count.
Something was wrong.
By morning, he had made up his mind. He needed answers.
After a quick breakfast, he left his house and retraced the path the spirit had taken. The early morning streets of Karakura Town were quiet, the only sounds being distant chatter from shop owners setting up for the day. To anyone watching, he probably looked like a man out for a casual walk. But his eyes were sharp, scanning every corner, every alley.
Then, just outside a small park, he felt it.
A presence.
The same chill that had washed over him the night before returned, curling around his skin like icy fingers.
Harry turned his head slowly—and there it was.
The spirit from last night.
It was huddled in the shadows beneath a tree, its translucent form flickering in and out of sight, as though struggling to remain in the world. Its chest rose and fell in sharp, panicked breaths, the broken chain rattling with every movement.
It looked up at him, hollow eyes filled with fear.
“Help me…” the spirit rasped.
Harry’s breath caught. It had been years since he had last spoken with a ghost who wasn’t Nearly Headless Nick or Peeves. And even then, ghosts were different—trapped echoes of the past. But this spirit… it felt alive in a way that ghosts never did.
He took a cautious step forward. “I can try,” he said carefully. “But you need to tell me what’s wrong.”
The spirit’s gaze darted around wildly. “It’s coming…”
Before Harry could ask what was coming, the air around them changed.
A suffocating pressure slammed into his senses, thick and heavy, like the moment before a storm.
Then, from above—
A monstrous, inhuman screech shattered the silence.
Harry barely had time to react before the world exploded into chaos.