Page 105 of To Free a Soul (Duskwalker Beginnings #2)

A time unknown, but of woven threads

Curled up on a large enough bed to fit his height, with a soft and warm Lindiwe in his arms, Weldir had been sleeping peacefully.

The magical barrier he’d placed against every wall of this human hotel, in some random Austrális city he cared little to remember the name of, kept out all noise and danger.

She’d paid for their stay with the gold she’d collected, which he’d manipulated into coins in the past at her request.

Admittedly, it was nicer than her tiny hut with a bed that could barely fit her, let alone him.

He also didn’t want to return to his prism realm; the longer he stayed away from it, the more hellish it felt.

He’d never uttered this to Lindiwe, but he was now terrified of becoming trapped within it again.

Or of losing this form somehow.

Which was why he struggled to sleep soundly, even after five months of existing as he was. Having Lindiwe’s sweet, feminine scent and warm, luscious body against him eased him. He often woke up, buried his face into her curls, let out a contented chuff, and was able to drift off again.

Except in this instance, a loud and spiteful offspring roared his name so loud, he was surprised she didn’t wake up from the bellow that radiated within his mind. Not wishing to alert or worry her, he placed her under a minor sleep spell and pulled up a viewing disc.

Once he noted the surroundings of the violent male, he teleported.

I’ll tell her afterwards. Or... maybe not at all. It really depended on what happened.

“You called, little one?” he asked, materialising on top of the ruined metal cage that surrounded Jabez’s portal – something used to keep whatever came through confined until properly guided.

He was seated with his legs crossed, a position he favoured, and peered down at the five people below him.

Merikh lifted his bear skull topped with bull horns up at Weldir, his chest clad in a red singlet.

At his side was a tall brown Elven female with long, white, coily hair, who wore a pale-pink dress with a black skintight bodysuit underneath.

She carried a full-blooded demonling in an orange dress, whose hair had been tied back to show her little pointed ears.

Zylah, the rabbit-skulled Mavka with antlers that had shrunk since her growth into adulthood, lifted her bony snout towards him as well.

Her short and revealing teal dress swayed in the wind.

Lastly, and the most surprising, was Jabez. His outfit was different to what it’d once been, since he donned a dark-blue robe shirt similar to Merikh’s and light-purple loose pants. Like the females, he also wore a black skintight suit.

Weldir couldn’t take his gaze off Jabez, and more importantly, his green-and-blue swirling soul floating between Zylah’s antlers. I see... that’s quite unexpected.

His mate, passionate and hateful of Jabez, would begrudgingly accept this.

Weldir, on the other hand, didn’t quite care.

This would be a peaceful way to appease their issues, preventing any further destruction or hindrance.

He’d always disliked Jabez because they had suffered the same fate but had reacted differently to it, and always he knew the male would come sniffing at his mist for aid that he wouldn’t give.

“So... it’s true. You’ve obtained a physical form,” Merikh commented.

Weldir slipped his unfeeling gaze to his offspring. “What is it you need, Merikh?”

“Where is the Witch Owl? She’s usually the one who comes when I call you.”

“You mean your mother?” he corrected with a slight sharpness to his words, disappointed in Merikh’s constant wrath and general insolence.

At some point, his offspring needed to emotionally mature and settle his own anger, in the same way life had given Weldir much to reflect on.

“She is resting,” he continued. “What is it you seek?”

As he spoke with Merikh, Jabez, who likely thought he was being sly, inched to the side to see within Weldir’s shaded hood. He gave the male a teasing glimpse of his face, but not enough to help him decipher what he saw.

When Merikh asked to see all his offspring, Weldir considered overwhelming him with viewing discs of every single one of the many Mavka across the world.

He wanted to prove to him that he knew nothing, that he was insignificant in the grand scheme of Weldir’s plan, and that he tired of the way Merikh upset his mate.

But he didn’t.

It was best he remained a shaded entity in the dark corner of Merikh’s mind, rather than a deterrent that stood between him and Lindiwe. She wished to withhold this information for now, and so be it.

He did as requested, showing him his siblings in Austrális only. And thus, revealing that his brother, Nathair, was not only alive, but he was well. Merikh’s orbs flashed with blue, and he was unable to hide how the information shook him, no matter how much he tried.

The whole situation was... unexpected, and curiosity nipped at Weldir physically, which was surprising but welcome – and fun. Except when he mentioned that, his offspring was a right fuckhead about it.

“What are you planning, Merikh?” Weldir asked, mildly concerned about his intentions. “You’ve brought your mate and someone we consider an enemy.”

“You’re no longer needed,” the bear-skulled Mavka bit at him. “No doubt you’ll watch regardless. Figure it out on your own, but stay the fuck away from me. Lindiwe too.”

If he continues to annoy me, I’ll trap him in my prism realm away from his bride and their demonling until we have settled our discourse.

He could interrupt their bond enough to keep his bride away, and he was sure Merikh would then understand that, although Weldir was his father, he was still a god who desired a modicum of respect.

He could force it over the course of days, weeks, or even years without batting an eyelid, utterly unbothered about giving his insolent offspring some ‘alone time.’

Merikh wasn’t the only injured baby bird in the world, and at some point, he had to stop pecking everything that came along. He had to learn to regulate his emotions, in the same way that Weldir had to deregulate them from the unfeeling logic that persisted even after his embodiment.

Since he’d been dismissed, he faded back to Lindiwe’s side, only to sigh as he stood over the bed in which she lay. He crossed one arm across his torso and tucked his hand into the crook of his elbow, then placed his other palm against his cheek.

I’m sure if I did that, though, she would think me inhuman and callous.

She wouldn’t approve of such dire methods as temporary isolation and imprisonment.

She didn’t like his morality – and often lack thereof.

He only refrained from acting violently because he was uncertain of the consequences from the other Elven deities.

Tsk. How bothersome.

November 23 rd , 2024

Seated on the apex of Magnar’s wooden, slatted roof, Lindiwe kicked her feet back and forth, her heels going under the roof’s edge.

Beside her, Weldir sat cross-legged and controlled their two babies from crawling or rolling away by the use of his tendrils, placing them back on himself whenever they attempted to stray.

She didn’t have the heart to take them from him when he just seemed so delighted to hold them. It was also why she hadn’t given them their features yet, as she was waiting for him to decide when he was ready.

Especially when they had plenty of adult children to contend with, seven of whom – and multiple grandchildren – were congregating below them.

It was the end of spring, on the cusp of summer, and the day was so balmy it was as though the scorching temperatures had come early. It was enough to make anyone sweat, although Weldir seemed to be enjoying it comparatively to winter.

The forest within Magnar’s ward thinned the closer it got to the log cabin home situated in the middle. The trees helped to keep the eeriness of the Veil out, acting as a barrier of sight and sound, while the open clearing directly around the house allowed bright sunlight in.

A small piece of haven had been created here within the otherwise nightmarish forest, and the two other houses not far from Magnar’s, belonging to Orpheus and Faunus, were the same.

She was aware the twins and their brides stayed at Sunnet Hill Springs within the border of the southlands, and Nathair, his bride, and their baby twins lived within the mountainside of the north.

Merikh and Zylah, and their families, resided in Lezekos, the last Elven city within Nyl’theria.

She was happy for all of them, except for the pointy-eared jerk she wanted to throat punch.

Although her conversation with him on top of the ruined rubble of his castle had , ever so slightly, softened her to him.

Especially as he’d apologised for Aleron’s death, and how he’d attempted to prevent it and undo his malicious mistake.

Lindiwe noticed Nathair’s hands were still, and he’d long buried his serpent snout into the side of Linh’s neck.

He seemed to prefer being near Merikh and Jabez, perhaps because they weren’t as talkative and were more stoic than the rest of her adult children, who were chattering away with each other.

Orpheus, Magnar, Faunus, Aleron, and Ingram had formed a murder of Duskwalkers.

Their brides were off to the side on blankets rolled out like they were having a picnic, and eventually they were joined by their Duskwalkers.

Then tails, wings, and long legs filled up much space and forced them to spread out as they cuddled.

“This is nice,” she commented cheerfully, the corners of her lips curling up. “They’re all getting along. This is what I always wanted.”

“I’m displeased by the requirement of it,” Weldir chimed in. “But I could have done all this, if any of them requested it. Now that I have a physical form, making temporal passageways is easy enough.”