Page 57 of Vexed
Honestly, he’s probably right. My focus has been lacking, to say the least. Apathetic is probably a better word. Destructive? Maybe.
I lift my eyes, dragging them away from the intricate latticework on the Altar and looking at Thalia. Her expression shifts, the usual impatient glint in her eyes softening into something resembling empathetic concern.
Ugh. I don’t need their empathy or their judgment. I need… well, I don’t know what I need. A lobotomy maybe. Or a time machine.
“What’s going on with you, Vexlorn?” She asks, her voice carefully neutral. As if she doesn’t already know. As if the heavy cloud of despair radiating off me isn’t practically visible.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I had let go of the woman I love, may have had an impact on me. Not that any of you would know because you don’t have fucking souls!” I spit, the words laced with venom and self-pity. The overwhelming mix of anger and sadness is swallowing me whole.
“Neither do you,” Adimus chimes in, ever the helpful one. I have to resist the urge to knock him on his ass. It wouldn’t solve anything, but damn, it would feel good for a second.
Instead, I clench my fists, the leather of my gloves creaking in protest. Staying in control is getting harder by the minute. This whole situation is ridiculous. Infuriating. And completely my fault.
“So, what do you expect me to do? Because right now, I’d rather spend the rest of my existence in Purgatory than deal with everyone’s whining about what I’m doing wrong.” Just as I turn to leave, Thalia stops me.
“Vexlorn, wait,” Thalia’s voice sliced through the sterile silence of the Cathedral.
“What?!” I shout back, my voice a distorted echo that makes her flinch.
She takes slow, deliberate steps towards me, adjusting the sleeves of her immaculate robe—a nervous tick, I’ve noticed. “The Council has discussed everything that has been happening recently, and also about you and your duties that you can’t seem to complete.”
I furrow my brows. What is she getting at? I cross my arms, a silent prompt for her to cut to the chase. She glances around the Cathedral, her eyes flicking over each member of the Reaper Council, as if she needs permission to utter the next syllable. Pathetic.
What the fuck did they decide this time? My gut churns with a familiar dread. It’s never good when they gather.
Before Thalia can spit it out, Adimus snaps, “We’re sending you back, alright.” He’s practically vibrating with frustration at Thalia’s glacial pace.
Wait. Back?
“What the hell does that mean? Can someone please just tell me what is going on?” My voice is laced with a growing panic.
Thalia clears her throat, finally closing the distance between us. She stops right in front of me, her expression carefully neutral.
“We have come to notice, through the past few years actually, that you have grown attached not only to the human girl, but to human life itself. You seem content in it, like it’s second nature.” She places a delicate hand on my shoulder, and I resist the urge to shrug it off.
“We decided—if that is what you want—to send you to the Human Realm as a mortal.”
My head is officially spinning. Mortal? Me? The word feels foreign, wrong, rolling around in my brain like broken glass. I struggle to find the words to even process this colossal bombshell.
If I agree, I’ll no longer be a reaper. I’ll have a soul. I’ll get to see Lily again without restrictions. But I’ll lose my powers, my abilities, my shadows.
“You don’t have to decide now—“ Thalia starts, probably expecting a long, drawn-out negotiation.
“Yes,” I say, cutting her off. The word erupts from me, raw and desperate. “If it means I get to be with her, I’m willing to give up my immortality.”
Silence descends throughout the Cathedral. Thalia seems genuinely taken aback, as if the thought of giving up eternal life for a human is beyond her comprehension.
But that’s just it, Lily isn’t just any human. She gives me life. Even being death itself, she made me feel alive, she made me mortal in ways I never thought possible.
I will do anything for her.
Fuck immortality.
“But how would it work? I don’t have a soul,” I ask, turning to Adimus as he steps forward.
“Well, lucky for us, we are the prime destination for souls. We will choose a soul to reincarnate, making you. Oh, but don’t worry, no diapers or that. You’ll be you.” He winks.
I can’t help but chuckle. Yeah, imagining myself as a drooling infant is a hard pass.
