Page 38 of To Trap a Soul

The tree wilted even further as his mist swirled tighter around him. The back of his mind thickened with an emotion he wasn’t quite accustomed to. Guilt, perhaps. Regret? Shame?

The least he could have done was show a little more care regarding her.

But I have been asleep,he argued in his own defence.All because she used my mana too much.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

The power she’d gifted him through their bond had allowed him to force every soul he’d consumed into a deep slumber. He finally had peace, and he slept to preserve it, giving himself the chance to rest. He’d been letting the well of his mana re-flood enough to handle the constant expenditure.

Without it, he already knew the souls would awaken once more to fret. They’d wail again if he didn’t snuff them into a slumber.

I have also been making this tree.Once he perfected it, he could begin making others. He could make...more.

I want my own forest.One he could interact with. A proper world in which the souls he’d eaten could wander. He’d like to make mountains, grass, rivers.

He wanted Tenebris to come to life. Tobelife in the afterworld. A place of serenity that even he could bask in.

He wanted his darkness to house beauty. For the yawning loneliness to be filled with distractions. He wanted to pretend that he could breathe the wind he wanted to create, could drink the water, could feel the sunlight.

Weldir wanted to feel as though he existed.

Currently, the only way he existed was through the interactions of a little human female who did not look upon him fondly. She was constantly wary, eying him with a stern regard, and he didn’t understand her, or humans, well enough to know how to change that.

The souls here were the first people he’d ever spoken with, and they were always panicked at their deaths. Not quite the pleasant conversationalists. Then there were the sacrifices that were brought to the Veil’s cliff, but those conversations, until his mate, had all gone the same.

Confusion at his voice, fear of it, uncertainty of what he offered. Always rejection – or they’d die before they could make up their minds.

He’d never even spoken with his mother.

If it wasn’t for the fact that he could talk to himself, he wouldn’t have even known he had a voice. He’d been placed in an isolated box; a magical prism.

He’d been hoping having a mate might change his seclusion, but his female wasn’t very chatty with him. She didn’t seem to like his voice, as she often shuddered whenever he spoke, and she frequently narrowed her pretty gaze at his words.

He thought giving her space would help, hence why he let her adjust to her new life over the years, but that hadn’t worked. So, if she would not be his companion, then his servants could be.

That’s if I can speak with them.

Weldir forced a sigh from himself, rather liking the way it sounded and how it conveyed many emotions. For now, it was the noise of the guilt that continued to gnaw at him.

Perhaps I should have handled the moment better.

He let the leaf disintegrate and flutter from his hand, and watched as the tree disappeared as well. If it continued to linger, it would eat at his power – he constantly needed to feed it mana in order to keep its presence.

If he wanted to make a permanent world, then he’d need to feed it mana eternally. Some might consider that a constant waste of his power, but there was no one around in his lonely void to judge him.

He could do as he pleased, as he always had and always would.

When Tenebris was empty once more, to the point that even the inky ground faded, he moved his form to another part of his realm. To her.

He found her in her physical form, which appeared ghostly. She still had the same feminine, curvaceous body – not lean and not plump, but with a very defined hourglass. Her breasts were generous, her backside rounded and full. Her dark-brown, curling hair still floated as it waved around her head and rounded ears.

Yet she was entirely transparent to him, which stole away her rich-brown skin, her dark-brunette hair, her eyes a mix of brown and amber, and even the pinkness in her lips.

He didn’t understand why she suddenly became unobtainable to his reach and proper view when she was in her physical form. All living beings had this white, transparent glow to him – nomatter what kind of creature – but he hadn’t expected her to still remain that way as his mate.

“What is it?” he stated when he arrived by her side.

With the bottom half of her still bare, she had her knees tucked up to her chest with her feet covering the intimate slit between her thighs. Her pants and shoes, which were just as translucent to him, since neither she nor he were holding them, had floated even further away.

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