Page 134 of To Trap a Soul

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 takethis 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 fuckingyellow,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.”

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