Page 2 of Sworn to Consume
The whisper hums again, soft and sweet, but it gives me a weird feeling in my belly. I should be scared.
Iamscared. But I don’t think I need to be.
“My Luca...”
I freeze. That name. That’s my dad’s name.
I turn slowly toward the sound and notice a glass case. Big. Wide. Almost glowing.
My heart pounds faster in my chest; I can hear it.
“I’m scared, Myko.”The words form in my head before I even know I’m calling him.
“Malec... What did you do?” Myko’s scolding growl booms inside my head, grounding me. Reminding me I’mneveralone. I swallow hard. I’m a big boy. I’m not going to cry.
I take a deep breath and stare at the glass box in the middle of my dad’s office.
“What is this?” I ask Myko in my mind. He knows where I am—he always knows.
“Malec, stay away from that. We’re coming.”
Healwayssays stuff like that. Like I’m some little kid who doesn’t understand anything.
I’mnotstupid.
I huff and take another step closer to the glass case, and only then do I see her—a woman lying inside.
She’s not moving.
I’m not tall enough to see her whole face, but her soul... something’s wrong with it. It’sthere—a deep, glowing black—but it’sflickering.Souls are meant to shift and shimmer, pulsing with life. But hers... It’s vibrating in place. Like it’s locked. Frozen.
“My little prince came to see me?”
The whisper coils through the room, brushing against my ears and spine.
“I missed you so much...”
It’s her. It’s her soul speaking, but why can’t Iseeher clearly?
I squint hard, and then I finally see it—golden threads. Thin, shimmering lines wrap her black soul, holding it tight to her body like a net.
It’s not like the other souls I’ve seen—not like my family’s, or the men Dad brings here sometimes.
This one... it’scallingme. The threads hum, like a song in my bones, like they want me to reach out—just one touch—
“MALEC!”
My mom’s scream carries through the room. I jump and fall hard onto the floor. My eyes sting. I fight not to cry. I promised Dad I wouldn’t cry.Men don’t show weakness.
Mom runs to me, kneeling despite her big belly. Her hands search my face.
She sees the glow on my forehead—and freezes. For a second. Then she breathes, long and shaking, and pulls me into her arms.
“Please don’t scare me like that. Ever,” she whispers, holding me close. “You can’t just wander into Dad’s office.”
I can’t help it—I start crying. I think she’s crying too.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her shirt. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
