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“Did she gift you this horn ornament?” Weldir muttered. “I hope if I ever have a physical form, that Lindiwe will do the same. I would like to be adorned with affection.”

Before Ingram knew it, Weldir backed up.

He didn’t feel different, other than in his gut, which had stopped gurgling. That was not something he had ever experienced – silence and lack of motion from his stomach.

Wanting to know if he could touch it now, Ingram reached between his horns. Warmth tingled his fingertips as he caressed it, and he kept his gaze on Weldir and Lindiwe to make sure he wasn’t doing something he shouldn’t.

Neither stopped him as he pulled Emerie’s soul from between his horns so that he could hold it in his palm. Bright yellow filled the edges of his vision as he inspected her yellowy-orange flame.

It was floating above his palm, asleep and with its arms resting in the air near its hair – like the few times she’d splayed across the ground after they were intimate, relaxed and sated. One leg was bent, while the other was straight. The position warmed Ingram. Even though it was naked and bared, showing little white flame markings where her scars were, it looked as though it felt safe and free now that it belonged to him.

It was slow to wake, but it eventually moved its arms and legs as it settled to stand upon his palm. Blue little dots opened upon its face as it tilted it up towards him.

Just as it was reaching its arms up to his skull, as though it wanted to embrace him, Weldir cut into his long-awaited moment.

“It’s time for you to leave and be with your bride,”he stated, just as a second white soul formed.

It hovered before him, before he stabbed the claws of both hands into its centre and tore it apart. A white rift formed like a tear in space.

Ingram didn’t even spare them a glance, nor did he waste any time so he could truly have his female back. Perhaps he should have thanked them, but they were the reason he had to go to them to obtain her soul in the first place.

Ingram merely placed her soul back where it belonged, right between his horns, and entered the portal.

Bright sunlight enveloped him as he stepped into a small clearing within the Veil. It was so small that only a sliver of a sunbeam was offered as protection, with a radius of no more than a foot on either side of him.

He was surprised that Weldir hadn’t created a portal leading back to Faunus’ ward, or anywhere protected belonging to the other Mavka. He imagined he had a reason for that, as it had already been made obvious the spirit of the void didn’t do things without one.

He’d chosen Ingram’s location on purpose.

At least he couldn’t hear or smell any Demons nearby.

So, he knelt within the sun, and he waited for his little butterfly. He would remain here until she appeared to him, no matter how long it took.

The sun continued to rise above him, moving along the path of the beam and never truly shortening or lengthening it. Although he continued to breathe as normal, his lungs were tight from his impatience as if he’d held his breaths. Despite his steadiness, he was restless.

Then, she appeared.

Transparent, ghostly white, and peacefully sleeping.

It didn’t take her long to twitch and open her eyes, only to lift her arm to uselessly block out the sun as she sat up to one side. She paused, then lowered it to inspect her Phantom hand.

He didn’t move, his impatience gusting out of him at just being able to see her. Just one more step, just one more thing needed to be done, and she would be in his arms again.

“Ing–” she started as she went to search. She didn’t need to turn her head far. “Ingram,” she sighed out.

His tail tapped against the ground once, and he reached his clawed hand out to her. She reached her own out, hesitating halfway, so she could will a solid form like all the other brides had done in front of her.

As soon as the lightly tanned, freckled flesh of her hand formed, it was within his own larger one. The change started from her extremities and quickly spread over her like a wave. Once it was complete, Ingram didn’t delay.

He pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her torso, and lifted her until she was forced to lock her legs around his narrow waist. With one of his hands spanning her hip and thigh, and the other supporting between her shoulder blades and the back of her neck, he rubbed the side of his skull against her temple.

“Emerie,” he grated.

Her warmth spread across his chest and heated him from the outside in. Her strawberry-and-primrose scent swelled in his lungs, so pretty and alluring it quelled any remaining anguish that had befallen him in her absence. Even just her tiny breaths tickling across the scales of his neck, or her chest waving with his, brought him so much contentment he held her tighter.

His hand dipped around the side of her neck from behind so he could place the pads of his fingers against her fragile and precious jugular. He felt it pulsing, letting him know she was truly alive within his embrace.

The edges of his vision swirled into bright pink, just as the bottoms of his orbs broke and little droplets floated around his skull.