Page 74

It’s so strange to think that there are so many varying animals in the world.

Some of them she’d learned the names of by the encyclopedia she’d stolen from the great library in Turkane and used a translation spell to read, but there were many others she didn’t know in English.

She just adopted the name they said from where they belonged.

She cupped her chin and incidentally smudged ink down her jaw. I like the horns of the impala. They were knobby and thin, with a subtle spiral, and she thought they would look like a wonderful crown on top of a predatory skull.

Lindi gave a small wince before rubbing where her unborn child kicked . It was like she was trying to soothe herself as well as them.

“I’m trying to figure it out. You’re not here yet and already you’re so demanding.” And even if they were, she had all the time in the world to figure out how she wanted them to form. “Just give me a while.”

With night beginning to creep in, Lindi watched the mesmerising play of colours splash across the dusking sky.

Out of all the buildings on this crest, shielded underneath a large umbrella thorn acacia, she liked this one best. It overlooked the edge of a ridge and gave her a wonderful view of the grassy plains below.

For as far as the eye could see, there was life – flora and fauna. Yet, it was so quiet that she could hear even the smallest insect not far away.

I guess there are things I’m thankful for since giving away my soul.

She’d seen much beauty, none of it possible without Weldir.

Her new length of life, the ability to travel into the horizon, and the safety his magic provided offered her incomparable freedom.

No other human, past or future, would ever experience such wonder and awe.

Feeling the Earth on a spiritual level, investigating its life and flourishing colours, its smells, and even textures, was a blessing. It often left her spirit enlightened, as if she’d touched the mesmerising veils of life and saw beyond them in a way no other could.

Just this scene – how the plains below swam with golden sunlight, as if the sky touched the ground and created an ocean of unfathomable, intangible glory – was enthralling.

With the gentle warmth of the ending summer billowing in a refreshing breeze, Lindi let her tired eyes droop. When night finally won against the light, and she had Weldir’s magic to keep her safe and snug, Lindi shut her eyes to rest.

I’m starting to rather like the quiet.

These long lulls brought on a sense of calm, and Lindi was in control of every minute. Well, when I don’t have a ghastly shadow speaking to me from beyond the void, that is.

Lindi stirred when she heard a shout, only to snap her eyes open with a sharp gasp and sit up in shock. Except her body couldn’t bend like that with a giant ball attached to her middle and she kind of flailed for a moment. Pitch night greeted her, and she squinted in the darkness, to no avail.

“Lindiwe,” Weldir called, louder than usual.

Lindi searched for him, but she knew – even though she couldn’t see – that he wasn’t actually there.

With a groan, she rubbed the heels of her palms into her sleep-dusted eyes while shutting them. They ached like never before, and her fatigue was just as bad as ever. She’d probably only had a few hours’ sleep – then again, she couldn’t quite tell.

“Why did you wake me?” she whined, rolling to her side before getting on her hands and knees so she could toss her stomach forward while rearing back to sit.

She straightened her legs out before her but with enough of a gap that her belly had a place to nestle.

Then she lowered a hand to the ground behind her for support. “And what’s with your tone?”

It almost sounded... panicked, and that didn’t seem like him.

“I’m doing all the hard work here, so the least you could do is let me sleep,” she continued, waving at her pregnant belly. “I don’t get to slumber forever like you do.”

Right now, she’d love that more than anything. To just sleep and sleep until her body didn’t feel like it was straining.

Silence greeted her, and for a second, she thought she may have imagined him calling out to her. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d dreamt of him saying her name – although this had less of a naughty element to it.

When too long passed, she peeked around at the nothingness. “Weldir?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this without upsetting you. I... don’t know how to share this delicately.”

That instantly sobered Lindi from her sleepy daze. Alertness clutched her, and she fumbled in the dark for her lantern and tinder box. She needed to know where everything was in case she needed to move quickly.

She doubted she was in danger, as she could still sense the barrier dome was in place.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, striking her tinder box and setting the oil alight so she could see. Her items were mostly put away in her satchel, except for her journal and food. “Sometimes it’s best to just spit it out.”

“Nathair is... dead.”

Leaning awkwardly to the side on her bundle of multicoloured bedding, Lindi paused just after she tucked her journal into her satchel. Her ears twitched in a pulling back motion, like she was checking they were working and she’d heard him correctly.

This horrible, sickening feeling clutched her stomach and hardened around her swollen belly in a contraction. Within a single heartbeat, her pulse was pounding in her eardrums, her throat, and in her chest. Coldness bled through her veins.

“What do you mean... he’s dead?” she whispered, like the words couldn’t be true. “You’re a god. They’re... yours. You said they can’t... die. ”

“I was wrong.”

Tears didn’t have time to well in her eyes; they were so heavy and profuse that they quickly flowed. Her bottom lip trembled, as she knew Weldir wouldn’t joke or lie about this.

“What do you mean you were wrong?!” she screamed, rolling back firmly onto her backside to cover her face. She clawed at her forehead when an agony she didn’t know existed lanced her entire being. “How could this happen?! Y-you promised!”

Well, he’d never truly said he knew for certain, but she’d taken his words as a guarantee. And now it felt like her heart was about to give out.

She didn’t care that her children were... were monsters. They were hers! They were beautiful, strong creatures, and they weren’t allowed to die!

There are meant to be deathless, just like me!

“You know I am not omniscient,” Weldir stated quietly.

“I know,” she sobbed out through hiccupping tears shuddering her chest. Her mouth was sticky, and her saliva thick and clinging from the roof and bottom of it. “I know that, but still !”

Why hadn’t she felt this horrible change in the world? How could she have slept peacefully through such a terrible thing? How could that make her feel undoubtedly worse ?

Within mere moments, her eyes and lips swelled from the onslaught of her tears, yet nothing could compare to the twisting ache coiling tighter and tighter in her chests. Her lungs shuddered as her hands shook against her face.

Lindi didn’t know how to process this. Something she’d never been afraid of, had never been prepared for, because... how could a god’s child die?

“Grab your artefacts. I think it’s best if I bring you to my realm.”

With a watery cry, Lindi just sightlessly fisted the strapping of her satchel and nodded. She turned into a Phantom to ease the transition, as she always found it easier when she was in the form he could touch. It didn’t pull on her stomach so hard, like she’d been thrown off a cliff.

Other than the glow of her lantern being lost, his realm didn’t look all that different than night.

Weightlessness lifted her, yet it was like she was sinking with a lead ball resting over her sternum and she was drowning.

She knew that wasn’t true, but the waves of her grieving emotions were crashing over her, and she couldn’t make it to the surface to breathe through her heaving chest.

She finally peeked open her swollen eyes to look at him.

He wasn’t curled up in pain like she was. He wasn’t crying, wasn’t shuddering with the loss. He looked the fucking same, just floating there half visible, like nothing was the matter.

She wanted him to hurt too – to know it all meant something to him. She didn’t even want strange, monstrous children to begin with, so why was she the one dying on the inside instead of him?

“ How? How did it happen?” she croaked, covering her face in her hands once more to cry into them.

She almost considered turning physical, like turning into a Phantom in the ‘real’ world, so she could escape her tears. She wanted to shed the fear and grief that clung to her body and rattled her very bones.

“I believe Orson crushed his skull, but I’m not certain. I was not watching at the time.” Weldir folded his arms and turned his head to the side. “He waits by Nathair’s skull.”

Lindi hated the way a nasty creature crawled inside her, full of disappointment and blame. A Demon was one thing, but his own brother? And worse still, she hated coming to the realisation that she may have had a favourite child.

Simply because he was her... first.

The first to be born, the first to hold, the first who ever spoke to her.

Nathair was where she’d been setting all her hopes and dreams, knowing one day he may have allowed her to walk beside his slithering form.

He was patient with her, unlike her other children, and he may have joined her across the world to teach the others.

And it didn’t help that, out of all her children, Orson was the most... aggressive. He snapped and snarled and warded her away, even despite Nathair’s promises of safety.