“The seed of discord blooms. Chaos spreads in the shadows and soon unrest follows.”

These were the whispers - whispers he constantly shut out- that echoed around the spirit binder as he moved through the silent corridors of the cathedral. Its hallways were pure obsidian, illuminated by a dozen torches that lined the dark walls. His cape moved behind him sweeping like black ink against the dark floor beneath him.

As he passed the chapel he stopped to observe as an elderly woman, around seventy years old, gave an offering. She placed a small parchment, on it a name written in blood. A blood offering worth more than any amount of gold for no one could ever truly measure a soul's worth.

Those were the most valuable offerings The Undead received because souls were the most valuable currency of Death. What happened to the souls offered… well that was none of his business. His duty was receiving the offerings and delivering them to Death.

As soon as the woman left, a priest collected her offering and approached him with the parchment held out. He held out his palm and as the priest placed the offering in his hand an iridescent flame consumed the parchment till there was nothing left of it. An offering given in blood and a soul freely given to Death was the highest of offerings. One The Undead would not delay to collect.

Before he could continue off to his own residence he suddenly felt a sharp splitting headache. He clutched his temple, feeling as reality around him began to shift. The dead souls he usually kept at bay became more visible and louder. He knew what this was and the priest echoed his thoughts.

“The Veiled Ones summon thee, Spirit Binder.” The priest said before he gave a bow and walked away leaving him alone in the quiet chapel.

The Veiled Ones. He hadn't been summoned by them in a while. A mysterious council, the Veiled Ones maintained an air of secrecy around them. They wore long black hooded robes with skull masks to conceal their identity. Their council room existed in a void space deep within the veil. Perhaps that was why they were named the Veiled Ones.

Their Council was as old as the organization and given their hidden identities it was hard to determine if the Veiled Ones was nothing more than a rotating council that replaced members as soon as their years of servitude were up or if they were immortal beings who had sworn an oath to serve for all eternity.

Before he could respond, a bright blue flame erupted all around him, burning out all of reality and plunging him into an all consuming darkness. This was the only doorway that allowed him to enter the Veiled Ones’ domain.

When the pain and disorientation subsided, he found himself in a vast space of nothingness. The only thing he could see in front of him was the stone walkway that disappeared into the dark. He did not stop until he came to the end of the walkway. Only then did he look out into the darkness.

“Vel’thar Unei.” A low ghostly voice came from all around him.

Although he could not see them yet, he felt the presence of the Veiled Ones radiating all over the vast space.

“Sorevath Ilari… the bound one stands before the Veiled.”

He had practiced these words a dozen times. For every one who was adopted into the organization knew to be summoned by the Veiled Ones was the highest of honors. They spoke with the voice of Death, had absolute authority and governed all the Undead. Their word was law. To converse with them was the closest thing anyone could get to conversing with Death itself.

Although there were many who joined the ranks of the Undead, there weren't that many who were able to channel the power of Death. Even given an equal opportunity to learn to channel this power, very few had an attunement to it. But whenever a young one displayed a certain aptitude for it, they honed that skill. Some had the touch of Death , some could hear beyond the veil, others could see beyond the veil.

Then there was him - the anomaly. Not only did he have the eyes of Death -allowing him to see beyond the veil - he also had the voice of Death which allowed him to command the spirits of the dead. That was how he got his name, Spirit Binder. With his power he was able to see the restless souls around him and bind them to him to do his bidding.

Being an anomaly was rarely a good thing because he was constantly watched. Before him, for as long as the organization existed, no one outside the Veiled Ones possessed the voice of Death. No one had ever had an affirmation to more than one death gift either.

Nevermind that his abilities were a threat to his wellbeing, there were some among his  colleagues that believed they made him dangerous and unpredictable. A wild card.

“A fracture remains within the unseen. Discord takes root beyond the veil. War is inevitable. An anomaly that should not exist born of two.” The voice continued, it grew louder and more layered as if they all spoke at once but with a single voice. “You will observe, you will assess the threat and you will determine its weight against the balance. Should it persist… you will unmake it.”

Their voices were resolute, leaving no room for negotiation.

Just as easily as they summoned him to them, he felt the void collapse all around him as he was cast out from the void back into the land of the living.

He stumbled back into the chapel, balancing himself on the armrest of a chair as he fought off the nausea. He hated this feeling of weakness and vulnerability but it was inevitable. Crossing through the veil was never easy for the living. It was particularly worse for him because being able to see, hear and command the souls of the dead came with one nasty backlash. Giving the dead a voice and letting them know they are seen would draw them to you, and having them all speak into your mind at once could eventually lead to madness.

This was why he always kept his eyes blindfolded. The whispers of the dead were not as overwhelming as long as he avoided prolonged use of his eyes of Death.

Once the nausea faded, he straightened himself and, taking a deep breath, he turned towards the exit. The Veiled Ones had spoken, and disobedience was not an option.