Page 231 of Dark Souls

“Why the obsession with dead flowers?”

She stood beside me with a small smile and ran her fingers over the dry, shrivelled petals.

“I know everyone else likes the vibrancy and richness of a flower in bloom, but I think there is something so much more meaningful in dried flowers. Still admiring the beauty in something that has lost what makes it beautiful reminds me that time and hardships may have diminished its appearance, but its value is never truly gone. I can look at them and appreciate the memory of what the flower once was, but love what it has now become. That is beauty in its most authentic form. Acceptance.”

I turned to face her, watching as she pulled off a single petal of the dried rose and held it up between her fingers.

“If the world accepted everyone for their uniqueness and the beauty of originality, perhaps they would see that you don’t just discard something because it no longer looks or behaves the way you want it to or because it’s lost what others consider as beautiful. You learn to look harder. To search for beauty within. The beauty that still remains.” She glanced up at me. “That’s why I like dead flowers.”

“Like how you accepted me, no matter what.” I pulled her to me. “I’ve never thanked you, Ilaria. Thank you for not discarding me like the rest of the world did. You saw value in me when I couldn’t even see it in myself.”

“And can you see it now?” She tilted her head to the side, running her fingers over the raised scars on my chest from the times I’d cut myself just to feel something other than rage.

“I’m starting to,” I answered, but my mind quickly swarmed with all the reasons I shouldn’t. All the mistakes I had made and the horrendous things I had done. I closed my eyes, grit my teeth and let the sadness, grief, anxiety and pain have their moment. Ilaria pressed the side of her face to my chest, listening to my pounding heart. I kept forgetting that she could feel my emotions through our bond. She’d always know when I was struggling and there was comfort in knowing I’d never feel alone again. She may not always fully understand what I am dealing with, but she’ll always be there.

“Will you come with me to the manor and grab photographs for Zoran to look through?” I asked, forcing myself to let go of her. I grabbed my leather jacket off the bed and threw it on.

“He thinks the witch that did this to him was part of the Knowlton coven?”

“Well, she was there that night. She might not have been part of the coven, but she had to at least be a slayer, right?”

“But why would she save him? If she was there to kill you all, why save him when he was as good as dead?” Ilaria questioned, and I paused to give her a knowing look. The question had bothered me too and there was only one explanation that made any sense. Ilaria caught on quickly, her hand slamming over her mouth.

“You think she was his soulmate?” I nodded. “Does Zoran think that, too? Did he feel it?”

I grunted, dragging my hand through my hair. “My brother is too consumed with rage to think rationally about any of this. Maybe he’s in denial or maybe he didn’t feel the bond because by the time he saw her, he was already a raven. Or perhaps she is just some twisted witch who went rogue against the coven and isn’t his mate. Who knows? But he is determined to find her and make her answer for what she did.”

Ilaria licked her lips and nodded slowly. “He has every right to be angry. She may have saved his life, but leaving him like that? A part of me really hopes that she isn’t his soulmate because that is seriously messed up.”

“I know.”

And if I knew my brother like I thought I did, he would never stop scouring the ends of the Earth for her until his final breath. Zoran could really hold a grudge and nobody hated slayers like he did. He really would make her pay for it, even if it destroyed him in the process.

Determination

Lukabecamedistressinglyquietas soon as we entered the Knowlton manor. His sea-green eyes took it all in as he processed whatever thoughts and emotions each room provoked in him. This place was his very own version of a haunted house, and now he had his humanity back, it must have been like stepping back into a living nightmare. I tried to check in with him and make conversation to ease his anxiety, but when I realised he just needed to deal with this in his own way, I stopped and just made sure my presence was enough for him.

He had barely spoken or helped me pack up everything we needed, too distracted by his own memories. We moved around the house in silence. I grabbed our belongings from the bedroom and ransacked every room in the house, looking for any group photos, members of the slayer’s club or photographs of female coven members for Zoran. We were now in the library and even though Leif had already taken some spell books for himself, I was throwing all the evidence of what the Knowltons and slayers had done centuries ago into a suitcase because my parents wanted to keep it protected and file it all in the royal archives.

Closing the bulging suitcase, I sat on top of it and zipped it up before glancing over at Luka. My heart lurched, and my chest tugged painfully as I watched him standing rigidly below the sword that hung on the wall. The same sword Alatar had used to behead his father and then Luka had used to get his own revenge on the warlock. Luka seemed suspended in time, his gorgeous eyes full of so many emotions as he continued to stare up at it in silence for a few more minutes. Then he turned and walked out of the room.

I stood up and followed him, keeping a little distance to give him space, and pressed my lips together when I saw him tug the rug away from the trapdoor and lift the latch. Without even a glance in my direction, he made his way down the cold, damp steps into the darkness. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I could feel the war of emotions Luka was dealing with through our bond, and I was torn about whether I should leave him alone or follow him down there. This was unfamiliar territory for me, too. I had underestimated just how much Luka had repressed and was closed off when I first met him. He’d lived behind these very walls for years alone, yet this was the first time it felt like he was truly present and reliving all the horrifying memories it held.

I sat on the floor by the latch and waited, keeping our connection through our bond open and vulnerable so he could feel my love and reassurance while he worked through his own pain. Pain that was rife and raw. I felt all the memories of what they had done to him in those cellars come flooding back. Gritting my teeth, I thought of some new methods of how to torture Belladonna later to keep me calm.

After about half an hour, Luka still hadn’t emerged. Lighting a candle, I held it in front of me and made my way down to my mate. I found him sitting in his corner where he used to sleep until only recently, with his legs bent and arms resting on his knees. He was staring across at the empty shrine where his mother’s bones used to be. Silently, I made my way over to him and sat beside him, resting my head against his shoulder.

The sound of dripping water from somewhere in the darkness and the stench of wet dirt and decay poisoned my nostrils with every inhale. I hated this place with a passion. Every time I set foot in this entire house, but especially in these cellars, it felt like my body was set alight with bitter fury. It made me feel sick to my stomach, so I could only imagine what it was doing to Luka.

“I remember,” he finally spoke, his voice harsh and choked with emotion. I lifted my head and looked up at his handsome side profile, flickering under the candlelight, painting shadows across his face. “This was where it happened.”

I followed his gaze to the sodden ground between us and the large hole in the wall that had been his mother’s shrine. There was a faint square indent in the cement where bars used to be and I realised this had once been a cell.

“This was where I killed her.”

I swallowed. My eyes stung as I held back the tears. I had no words. Instead, I wrapped my arms around one of his biceps and lowered my head back to his shoulder.

“She begged and begged for me to do it. She was so weak. Her… her body was already giving up, and her eyes had no life left in them. I knew she was dying and there was nothing I could do to stop it. But still… I didn’t want to kill her. I didn’t want to do it.” I felt his body tremble in my arms, and he lifted one hand to wipe his face, so I knew he was crying. I didn’t look up at him. I didn’t want him to see the tears running down my own cheeks as my heart broke for him all over again. “I begged her not to make me do it. I cried and hugged her. I felt like a child all over again as she held me and stroked my hair. She sang to me, like she used to every night before bed. When I’d finally calmed down, she lifted my face and told me I must do it. That was what she wanted. And then she made me promise her two things.”

---