Page 56

A time unknown, but the seeds of conversation begin

With his energy slowly replenishing, Weldir stirred. Darkness met darkness as he opened his eyes, but there was an illusion of light in his periphery, allowing him to perceive his own sight.

With his palms facing upwards, he looked down at his hands and clenched and unclenched them. It seems she has ceased using too much of my mana.

He opened his mind to feel all along his selfs, checking the realm within his stomach. Tenebris was exactly how he left it, mostly finished in creation except for what he would change for the departed souls he held for safekeeping.

He moved his consciousness along. He felt his mind, and how he had tucked himself at the back of it to rest.

He checked within his heart, finding Lindiwe’s soul’s citrine flame bright and exactly how he left it.

It still has impressions of darkness. He noted the black charcoal around its heart and streaming from its brown eyes like flaming tears.

With its arms crossing over its torso like it was hugging itself, its legs were slightly bent in the weightlessness.

It never looked at peace, but the glare in its gaze had faded, now just appearing solemn while alert.

It reminded him of her, especially with its large curls flaming above its head. He found it just as beautiful as her.

Weldir moved on to the fringes of himself and then let out a weary sigh.

So many souls.

There had to be thousands of white flaming souls waiting to be consumed. He materialised his body to the area in which they floated and reached a hand out. The closest soul to him was in a horrible state.

Unlike the mess of scarring that could come from a human’s life being present on their very spirit, those consumed by Demons were different.

Rather than the grey spots lingering deep within their soul from sickness, or the charcoal spots that snuffed out life like mental decay, or even the evidence of pale scars, those eaten by Demons were in pieces.

He brushed his fingers over the torso of what appeared to be a woman and cupped his hand under it.

Cracks of red, like burning lava, streaked across her body like it had been struck by lightning. It did not show how she died, but he knew from the memories of others it must have been frightful and painful.

Weldir didn’t have a name for the sickness produced from being eaten by a Demon. All he knew was that if he were to consume this soul before healing it, that lightning would spread to him and fester by eating away at his mana in hungry sparks.

So, Weldir enveloped the woman’s soul in his hands and concentrated.

He glued the pieces back together with the use of the spiritual side of his mana, while drawing away the toxin into his own body.

Once taken into his black right hand, making it appear to have lava cracks throughout it up to his wrist, he threw his palm out to the right.

He expelled the toxin out into his mist on Earth, ridding himself of it and letting it disperse into the air.

Even holding onto the toxin for a short period of time chipped away at his mana as much as piecing the broken souls back together did.

Already the mist surrounding him thinned, and he grumbled in annoyance.

He quickly assessed if the woman’s soul had any tethers intertwining with another spirit to see if he could give it a joyful place to rest in his realm.

There was a connection present, but that person had not yet been consumed. Their flame floated somewhere nearby, not yet in his stomach but ready to be eaten.

She will rest in my valley of souls until that person greets her memories with their own.

Not wanting to waste any more time, he opened his mouth, pressed the soul to the cavity he created, and shut his lips around it. He swallowed, and it descended his throat and entered Tenebris.

He floated towards the next listless, drifting soul, passing the hundreds around, above, and below him. His direction was always different as he picked a soul at random to heal it, expel the toxin into Earth, then consume it.

Each time he healed one, he lost a little more strength, the toxin’s festering stronger than the soul’s replenishment.

But, unlike the toxin, which was a fleeting wound, he would have a deeper well of mana with each new soul he added to his collection. It would go further, so long as he rested. For now, it only debilitated him.

Weldir one day may go through their memories, wanting to visit their life out of curiosity.

He’d learned many languages, and although he could not leave the reach of his mist, he’d seen many places.

He’d been on ships setting sail across the ocean, had dug his hands into dirt as he farmed, and he had even sat at a table putting ledgers in order for a business.

He’d poured drinks for dreary patrons, as well as danced with a man in the rain as his flowy, sodden skirt swayed around his lithe, feminine calves.

Every new spirit pieced together the many kinds of life for a human and granted him more understanding with each one. He chose what he valued or what he didn’t care for, and dismissed a lot of superstition, moral ideologies, and faith, as they had no room in his already-filled consciousness.

He had no use for them.

He could not count how many sickened souls he consumed until he eventually came across one that wasn’t lava-veined.

It appears one of my offspring has healed a soul for me and returned to my mist. Oddly enough, it had curly hair, and he was once more reminded of his mate. He thumbed its chest, finding the female’s body to be less curving than Lindiwe’s, inspecting it closely with a hum of thought.

My mana is small right now; this is a welcome change.

If he continued to do this task without finding those not destroyed by Demons, he would have consumed many souls but would also risk slipping himself back to sleep. Each one ate at his power little by little, and their aid to him was often delayed and only effective upon rest.

Which would be no issue normally, but he had no concept of how long it had been since he’d last been awake. He looked down at the white flame in his grasp, and how it bore a striking resemblance to someone dear.

I wonder how my mate fares.

Rather than do his duty, he allowed for a moment’s distraction.

Weldir looked to his right when he made a viewing disc form, his consciousness focused on the tether connected to him and a pretty little female. Suddenly she appeared, staring off absentmindedly before her.

With her gaze far away, she popped a slice of plump orange and white pith into her mouth.

While she chewed, Lindiwe spat the seeds into a handkerchief.

She sat on a patch of grass near some trees bearing round fruit – an abandoned orchard, from what he could tell.

More orbs of fruit lay in her lap, her legs out straight in front of her.

Her black cloak of feathers was in a disarray, many of the plumes bent and unkempt, with patches even missing.

He shifted the disc to view her from the front, noting the old dirt stains that she couldn’t remove from her blue high-quality tunic and black breeches.

Her boots, brown and new, had been removed so she could air out her feet and likely give them rest.

Next to her was a small satchel, and he had no idea of its contents.

A subtle, light breeze moved her tangled hair around her shoulders. He rather liked the windswept appearance of the coiling and kinking strands, finding it had more volume and moved more fluttery.

Her face was as it always was. It had not changed, but his appreciation for it had grown during however long they’d been bonded.

There was a prominent edge to her jaw and cheeks, and a gentleness in her brow.

She dabbed her pink tongue along her full brown lips, tonguing along the darker line that circled them to collect fallen juice.

Her nostrils flared when she took another bite, as if smelling while tasting what she ate, and her expression proved that she found it delicious.

Her body was hidden beneath her clothing, but Weldir knew it quite well from watching her bathe in streams and waterfalls in the past. An hourglass figure blessed this female, her breasts full and her hips wide.

From the memories of humans he’d seen, most would deem her body sinful and her face lovely.

Like them, he noted how the sun shining on her medium-brown skin gave it a wonderful golden glow, which then gave her darker hair a reddish hue. And how that light sparkled in her doe-brown eyes and gave a glimmer of spiking amber around the pupil.

Most would have been mesmerised by her beauty, even if her state was a little wilder from traversing the world freely.

Her dark, curling lashes fluttered when a sudden gust cast pollen and dust into her eyes, and she shut one to protect it. It wasn’t enough to stir her from her thoughts.

“Your cloak is looking quite worn, Lindiwe,” Weldir stated, wondering if he could be the one to pull her from staring down the hill. He tried to hide his humour, but even he heard it mingling in his tone. “You haven’t taken care of my gift.”

Lindiwe didn’t flinch at his voice, but she did pause momentarily to take it in. Then she continued to pop a slice of orange into her mouth.

“A gift well used is a gift obviously well treasured,” she answered freely once she finished chewing. “Consider it proof of my appreciation.”

Weldir placed his hands behind his back, ignoring the floating white souls around him to give her his full attention – not that she would know.

“How do you fare, little human?”

She snorted a curt and false laugh. “I’m coming to realise I’m barely human anymore. I haven’t been treated so in quite some time.” She shrugged a single shoulder. “Then again, talking to you always reminds me of my origins.”

Weldir cocked his head curiously. “Is that a good or bad thing?”