Page 76

Only when Lindi thought she could brave facing Orson and retrieving Nathair’s skull, did she leave the comfort of Weldir’s weightless realm. He’d thankfully stayed with her the entire time as she wept, although she did release him from holding her at some point.

She didn’t know how long she’d stayed there – hours, days, weeks, possibly years – but the passage of time had felt gruelling and endless.

And despite it all, she did not feel any better.

She’d just managed to suck in her emotions long enough to do this. Then she could go back to grieving in peace.

Lindi wanted to protect Nathair’s skull, too, now that Weldir had shared why he truly wanted it. It was... theirs, and they needed to be responsible for it. Whatever his unspoken promise was, she hoped it would one day come to fruition.

Even if it didn’t, knowing a piece of him still existed was all she wanted.

Oddly enough, Weldir offered to come with her to take this emotional journey. For the first time, she witnessed him consuming a soul beyond his normal means.

It was actually kind of disgusting.

He reached into his own mouth almost elbow deep and somehow pulled a soul from within his stomach. The strangest part was these gooey, inky black strings that were attached between him and the white, deadened soul.

He then shoved the white flaming spirit into his chest, and it crackled and sparked as the dusty ribbons of his body, like multi-layered see-through veils, scattered through it. They mingled together, as if his self was attaching to it and all around it.

Within his darkness, he became fully formed for the very first time – that she had seen. But she’d already witnessed all the pieces of him individually, and she’d been able to puzzle out what he looked like in completeness.

A chiselled face; short, wisping hair; and a lean, muscular body. His horns looked hard and somewhat glossy in comparison to the rest of him, and his pointed ears flicked.

“Are you ready?” he asked, offering out his clawed hand.

The tears she’d managed to hold back renewed and bubbled along her waterline and dotted her eyelashes. She took it because, right then, she needed someone, him , more than ever.

He dematerialised them from his realm and to Earth, within his mist that extended along the Veil. All of a sudden, her perception of him shifted even in her Phantom form. All she felt was pressure, as if the reality of this world and his did not match.

He also became half-formed once more, only visible enough that he appeared like what she usually saw. It didn’t help that the sun seemed to dismiss him even further, as if Weldir was best seen in the shadows – like his pitch-black world.

She let out a whimper when she saw Orson not even a few metres from them.

He was seated on the ground, his hind legs bent like that of a dog, and his hands held up his bowed torso. He stared down at the broken white pieces of Nathair’s skull, with his tail tapping and his orbs bright fucking yellow , as if he was delighted at winning whatever game they’d played.

She realised then that he had no idea what he’d done, but it did nothing to lessen the ghastly sting.

Knowing what was to come next, Lindi turned physical.

Her hand went through Weldir’s, and it reminded her of how she could hold her children in her Phantom form, and how they turned ghostly with her.

Weldir was always on that side, untouchable to her when she was corporeal.

And her children’s skulls never turned incorporeal, no matter how much she tried to will it for their safety.

The moment she was physical, and her scent fluttered across the wind, Orson turned to them. On all fours, he lowered himself protectively around Nathair’s skull with joyful yellow orbs turning bright red. A growl rumbled from his chest, warning them of his deadly intent should they approach.

As Lindi had expected, words and emotion clogged in her throat, and she tried everything within her might to keep them at bay. Weldir floated forward, being her voice when she told him she doubted she could remain impartial and calm.

In her heart, regret and guilt simmered because, as she looked over Orson – who had just murdered his own brother – she felt.

.. hate. She didn’t want to, and she knew none of this was truly his fault, but it was his meaty, large, dangerous hand that had dealt the death blow.

That had rent its claws through her heart, and she didn’t know if it would ever stop bleeding.

The child safely stowed away within her womb wriggled at her increased heart rate and breaths, fretting from the power and sound of her panic. For their sake, she wished she could calm herself, but it was not within the realm of possibility right then.

She held the side of her rounded, firm stomach, pressing on it as a way to soothe them and herself.

“Stay away,” Orson growled in a guttural voice, monstrous and hard to decipher.

“We must collect Nathair’s skull,” Weldir stated firmly, inching his way closer. “Step aside so we can.”

Lindi winced when Orson cupped his hand around the broken pieces and swept them across the ground, closer to his chest protectively.

“Mine,” he warned.

Weldir shook his head, just as Lindi braved finally taking a step closer.

It was one of the hardest ones she’d ever taken, and her hands shook as her bottom lip trembled.

She licked at it, and all she tasted was the salt of her fresh tears.

She wiped her face to remove the evidence of them, but they were easily replaced.

“You have broken his skull,” Weldir informed him, which only caused the twist in her heart to deepen. He placed himself between Orson and Lindi’s line of sight of each other when their offspring snapped his fangs at her.

“Yes. I win,” Orson grated, only to stomp a front hand forward – precariously close to the broken pieces. “Stay back!”

“You have won your little game, but you have destroyed him in the process.”

Orson’s orbs shifted from red to dark yellow, and he tilted his head. “No. He returns.”

Once more, Weldir shook his head. “Nathair will not return.” Those words broke Lindi a little more, and she choked back her whimper. “You have... killed him. You did this by breaking his skull. I have already collected his soul.”

Lindi’s brows drew together at that. He collected his soul?

Orson’s head reared back as blue flickered in his orbs for just a moment. “No... he returns. Always returns.”

“It has been longer than a day, Orson.” Weldir waved his hand to the side, in the opposite direction from where Lindi cautiously approached, to distract him. “He will not return. You must sense this.”

“No!” Orson roared, as the bottoms of his orbs, flicking between red and blue, wavered and broke. Floating drops leaked from them, and he stamped a hand forward again, smashing it against the ground. “Wrong. You lie!”

“Stop!” Lindi pleaded with a scream, reaching her hand forward as a shuddering sob ripped out of her. “You’re breaking it further!”

Orson let out a gasping whine when he lifted his hand off of the part of Nathair’s skull he’d snapped – one of his thin and delicate jaw bones. He started brushing it all into a pile, as if that would help to put it back together, and his orbs finally held blue.

“Stop touching it! Stop... ruining it!” Lindi dared to come even closer when her heart yearned to collect it, to prevent Orson’s heavy and destructive hands from doing any more damage.

Orson roared at her, his echidna spines lifting to their highest points. His clawed hands shook as he attempted to tread carefully to ward her back and stand over the pieces, then he brushed them together once more.

“N-no. He is mine,” Orson whined, his claws clacking against the pile of bones. “He come back.”

His behaviour was utterly heartbreaking. As much as she recognised his pain, and felt it all the way to the depths of her soul, her loss was just too great. He was too inhumane and unintelligent to understand what he was doing. He couldn’t be reasoned with.

As cruel as it was, Lindi pushed her hands forward and made black tentacles of magic form. They wrapped around Orson’s body, but the moment she tried to yank him back, his spines tore them apart.

She gasped when the forceful release of magic made her stumble back. That had never happened before.

“Orson,” Weldir warned, his voice deepening to a frightening degree. It was still calm, but rumbled like the beginnings of a storm that had not yet reached the crashing shore. “Let her collect Nathair’s skull.”

“No!” Orson’s orbs, leaking floating tears, flared bright crimson. “He is mine! My Nathair.”

“Move aside, you big silly oaf!” Lindi shouted, shoving her hands forward once more to create more tentacles. “You’ve done enough damage!”

I just need a moment. She wanted this horrible tableau to end.

She enclosed her fists and yanked at the same time, ripping him back just before his spines could tear her magic to shreds. She gave herself the slimmest opening. Pregnant, with her back and ankles sore, she ran as hard as her heavy and uncomfortable body could manage.

But Orson was faster. He rolled across the ground, leapt to his hulking bear legs and humanoid hands, and sprinted forward. Just as she managed to grab a piece, and before she could turn transparent to save herself, he ripped his claws into her.

Lindi choked out a gasp of pain, just as her face, chest, and the side of her rounded belly were gouged into. Her entire body locked up, and her stomach contracted hard. Just as he went to strike her again, she managed to turn incorporeal, and his paw went through her.

But the agony was too great, and she flickered between human and Phantom as she wobbled back.

She held her belly as the contraction gripped her, and her legs tried to give out.

She choked out another gasp as her knees locked together, and wetness pooled between her thighs – warm and entirely uncomfortable.

“Weldir,” she whispered, her shock snapping through her grief when she thought nothing could. The flared wounds on her face and chest stung so bad, and the blood leaking from them tickled her, but she barely registered them against the pain from her groin. “Weldir, I think I’m going into labour.”

He was by her side in an instant.

She still had a few days left of her pregnancy, but her body and the child couldn’t handle everything – especially with the damage Orson had just done.

Damage she knew Nathair, who was exceptionally gentle with her whenever she’d been pregnant near him, would never have done. Nathair was different – he’d always been different. Kind, despite being monstrous. Playful, despite his wariness with her. Patient and understanding on an instinctual level.

He never would have hurt her like this, not unless he was in a bloodlust or truly enraged – and Orson, despite his red orbs and tears, was not there yet.

“I cannot do anything to help, Lindiwe,” Weldir stated, and she wanted nothing more than to shriek.

She had time before this child came, but she would not leave the other one here – the broken pieces of him – amidst Orson’s chaos.

When she summoned tentacles up through the ground once more, Orson snarled and evaded them.

She put up a shield of magic, drew her hands back, and then shoved them forward to smash it into him.

She hitched in a sharp breath when her body contracted once more, and her vision flashed a blinding white.

The pressure on her cervix was intense, and her legs grew cold, like the strength in them was momentarily suspended.

More liquid surged from her, and it was unpleasantly warm down her legs.

She’d already had a scent-cloaking spell in place, but she strengthened it just in case the bloody liquid set him off even more.

“Get him further from Nathair and then put a ward over it,” Weldir offered as advice.

“What do you think I’m doing?!” she screamed, shoving against some of her curls that had stuck to her face and chest wounds before bringing up another ward as a divider between Orson and Nathair’s skull.

Too antagonised now, Orson gave up protecting it and leapt for her. Lindi stumbled to the side to avoid his daunting speed, flickering between physical and ghostly – unable to hold the latter properly in such pain or in the middle of labour.

She narrowly escaped him, throwing her palms towards the ground when he went behind her.

A big dome formed around the area, blocking Orson out while allowing her and Weldir to move freely within it.

Collapsing to her knees, she blindly fumbled around the ground to feel for the fragments of Nathair’s skull, her stomach impacting her view.

“You’re missing the front of his left bottom jaw.”

Lindi barely felt her tears, too shocked and in pain to truly register anything but one thought: grab Nathair before this child came.

Each contraction was unbelievably hard, putting pressure everywhere and shoving downward into her pelvis and lower limbs.

Each one didn’t just knock the breath out of her, it strangled her.

When she finally had them, Weldir stated the dreaded words she feared. “I need to you to turn incorporeal so we know you’ve brought them to my realm.”

“I can’t ,” she cried, wincing each time Orson shoved against the black glittering dome with a roar, his hulking body making it tremble.

Thump. Thump. Thump, his hard shoulder bashed.

Weldir knelt beside her on one knee and, even though she couldn’t feel it, hovered his hand over the top of her head as if he wanted to encourage her. “You must try.”

With all that remained of Nathair, her large serpent Duskwalker, able to be held in one crooked arm, she held her belly with the other.

She took in a few sharp, shallow breaths while on her weak knees, trying to steel herself against all the agony.

Then in between contractions, she clenched, and her body shifted.

The fragments of his skull turned intangible with her, and knowing they did – when it had never been possible before – broke her heart that much further.

Yet it was enough for Weldir to take her and himself back to his realm. The shift held, and her contractions stopped midway – a terrible sign of being stuck in a liminal state.

“H-heal me. Heal me so I can finish,” she pleaded.

“I’m sorry... but I can’t,” he said, taking the pieces from her before they could float out of her weakening hold and before he could no longer touch them. “I may reverse your labour. It could harm them, or you.”

The sob that broke from her was tormented.

With her own blood staining her lips, her eyes bowed deeply as she whimpered, “Oh gods.”