Chapter 11
Eleven
Lydia
A nagging ache in my skull screams there is something very wrong. It’s well past sunset and Ziggy has yet to come back.
I pace our small sanctuary, biting my nails down to nothing. I know he’ll be pissed if I come after him, but what if he got caught. He could be back in that cell or getting tortured. Or dead.
Fuck this.
Throwing on my leathers, I make the hike down to camp’s center to find only a few guards and soldiers moseying around. Everyone else is tucked away for curfew.
“Lady Sybil, what brings you down here so late?” I turn around to find Bern, one of the herbalists, with a book tucked under his arm and glasses nearly falling off his round nose.
“I missed dinner tonight, so I thought I would make something for myself.”
Bern pushes his rectangular glasses back up, and throws his thumb over his shoulder. “Wellum is in the kitchen now. I’m sure he’d be happy to whip something up for you.”
Fuck, that’s not good. Where the hell is Ziggy?
“Great! I’ll definitely go check that out now. Thanks Bern.” I give him a quick hug because he’s one of the only kind beings in the place. I’m positive he would burn the camp to the ground if The Collective didn’t have a kill order on his family.
My gait is long and unhurried at first, but the further away I get from the general public I start sprinting, stopping short at the sight of the kitchen. The door is completely missing, splinters of wood on the grass below. A single candle is lit to illuminate the place, but it can barely combat the smog hanging around the building like a deathly halo.
Holding my breath, I tiptoe up to the window—one of the shutter doors is cracked open just enough for my head to squeeze in. I refuse to let a single breath escape, terrified of what I may find. Fingers gripping the sill, I pull myself up. Wellum sits deathly still in a chair, eyes trained forward, and in the corner lies Ziggy’s crumpled body. Dropping to the ground I dash up the stairs into the kitchen. I don’t spare a glance at Wellum, falling to my knees next to my elf.
“Please, don’t be dead.” The same shaky words from the first time I saw him in that godsdamn cell pass through my lips. I cradle his head in my hands, gently rolling it to the side. His eyes are wide and pitch black with swirls of red. His colorless lips move silently—I can’t figure out a single word. “Come on, psycho, wake up.” Sliding my hands to his temples, I close my eyes, pushing into his mind with ease.
Immediately, I feel like I’m being pulled into a vortex, my very essence being drained into the depths of his psyche. I struggle to search for a cause—I might as well be swimming against a current. “Dorran! Kai! Rune! Can any of you hear me?!” I beg for a response. “For fuck’s sake! You all can barely shut the fuck up normally, and now you choose to keep to yourselves. Especially you, Dorran!” A flash of something scurries across my vision and I try my best to follow it. Every moment I stay here, the weaker I feel. “I don’t care what I have to do. I just want Ziggy back.”
“Feed him. Bind yourself to him and stop it all.” The distant call from Malachi echoes in the darkness.
“How?! Tell me how and I’ll do it!” Tears roll down my cheeks like waterfalls.
“Give him your soul freely. Trust in him.” Dorran’s voice tickles my ears as if he was on top of me, but I’m completely and utterly alone.
“Let go, little thief. Let Ziggy steal from you this time.” Rune finally speaks, his voice like a lullaby.
Let go.
And that’s what I do.
An indescribable emptiness takes over, leaving me a hull. A vacant vessel free falling into the abyss.
It doesn’t hurt, per say. It’s an icy ache that penetrates the marrow of my bones, not at all what I thought being in love would feel like. But when you love someone there is nothing you wouldn’t do, even if that means giving them your entire being. And if this is the only way I can be with Ziggy, I’ll take it.
“Do you willingly give yourself to this being? Mind, body, and soul.” A genderless voice rasps, sounding both close and distant at the same time.
“Yes.”
“You will become one with the vessel—never to leave again.”
“I give myself willingly.”
There’s a pregnant pause throughout the void, so long that I start to believe I’m unworthy.
“The Gods find your intentions to be pure. Eros, Pragma, Ludus, and Maina. The kind of love that is all-consuming. Life-changing. Soul-crushing love,” it declares with gripping bravado. “You have now been blessed with a binding that no force can break. But be warned, the strength of your love will be tested—just how far are you willing to take it?” A promise and a warning.
Reds and purples whirl all around, smashing into one another, exploding like supernovas. In the blinding light I find Ziggy, only he’s a child frantically looking around. Tears stain his golden skin—he’s so scared. Warmth wraps around me as I watch my younger self shuffle forward, reaching out to him. Endless green eyes gape at me with bewilderment, but he opens his arms to pull me against him. “We’re safe now. We will never be alone again,” we whisper in unison.
The vision of us dissipates, leaving the man my elf has become. There is nothing in the heavens or hell that could keep me from him in this moment.
Wind whips around me as I sprint to him, falling to his waiting arms just as we did before.
“We’re safe,” he hums.
Listening to the steady beat of his heart, I know it’s true. “Together.”
“We are enough. ”
Ziggy
I’m drowning.
Gasping for air to no avail. Soon my lungs will fill with liquid and I will find that peace I’ve been searching for for years. Except this time, it doesn’t feel the same—I don’t want to die.
Wait…shouldn’t this…hurt?
Yeah, drowning is an excruciating way to die.
“It’s time to wake up, Ziggy. We’ve got a lot to do.”
Eyes springing open, I greedily suck in a deep breath. What the hell did that demon do to me? One moment the necrotic monster has his teeth latched onto my arm, the next I’m staring up at a timeworn ceiling, trying to slow the thundering in my chest.
After what feels like an eternity, my body and mind settle, quickly becoming aware of the soft flicker of a candle that is now the only source of light—meaning I must have been here for hours.
Oh fuck . Lydia is going to kill me!
Frantically, I try pushing up on my elbows but my limbs are heavy, almost like they’re trapped.
With what little strength I have, I try again and succeed. Triumph fills me, that is until I recognize the weight I was trapped beneath—Lydia’s limp body sprawled across me.
“Lyd?” She doesn’t respond. I can’t tell if she’s breathing, but her body feels warm.
Slowly I shimmy my body upward into a sitting position. Careful not to jostle her body too much, I cradle Lydia’s lifeless body in my lap.
“Come on, little thief, you can’t quit on me now.” My calloused fingers gently sweep the platinum hair from her face, feeling the faintest of breath against my skin as I do. “Please wake up.”
Why isn’t she waking up?
“Her body is adjusting,” Dorran answers calmly.
To what?
“Her shared soul.”
Visions of what I swore was a dream flash through my mind. I was so hungry it was agonizing, but then Lydia showed up. Why was I hungry?
“Your powers have been unlocked,” Kai drawls, adding a grunted finally.
Her soul. She gave me her godsdamn soul.
Gently maneuvering her to the ground, I get to my feet and lift her into my arms. “Don’t worry little thief, I’ve got ya’,'' I promise, whispering against her forehead. The moment my lips meet her skin, the wood beneath me cracks open, swallowing me whole. Crashing down onto a hard stone floor, voices fill the air. A brash man scolds his child as she sobs.
“Take that shit off right now!” His words rumble from deep in his chest.
“But Daddy! I just wanted to be like you. I thought you would be proud that I knew how to properly put on armor.” The dejected voice comes through with an image.
Standing in the center of a large armory, a little girl no older than five is dressed head-to-toe in battle armor. The heavy silver overtakes her tiny body—the breastplate touches her knees and gauntlets reach her elbows. She’s adorable and battle-ready.
Icy blue doe eyes look past me, tears welling up in the corners. Her lip wobbles, trying so hard not to cry, while her snowy skin becomes paler with the flushing of her cheek.
Oh gods, this is Lydia. Seeing her like this is heartbreaking.
“Oh you nettlesome child, I expect you to know this. It’s quite pathetic to believe I would praise you. You’re lucky it was me who found you and not your mother.”
“Lies! Mommy would have thought I’m beautiful. She always tells me women are the most beautiful when they look just as deadly as they truly are.”
Ebrius’ deep chuckle sends a chill down my spine as he comes into view. He is much slimmer than he is now, but much more muscular. His wine tunic puckers against his chest as he rolls his shoulders back, leering down his bulbous nose at Lydia. “How I fathered a twit such as you is beyond comprehension,” he barks with a grimace. “Your mother is a goddess. You will never be special. You will never be beautiful. Maybe you’ll be a useful tool when you come into your powers, but make no mistake—You. Are. Nothing.”
The scene begins to disintegrate until it is nothing more than specks of dust, rematerializing into the kitchen once again.
My heart rattles in its cage with despair and rage. I will make Ebrius suffer. And I’m so elated that Lydia’s mother isn’t in her life, because I would destroy her too.
With new resolve I turn on my heels, Lydia tucked deep into my chest. The faster I set our plans in motion, the faster I can feed my aching hunger.
I don’t get more than a few steps before finding another disturbing sight.
Wellum sits in a chair like a doll—devoid of life with eyes wide open. I can’t leave him like this. One, it would be heartless to leave someone in a catatonic state like that. Two, without a doubt, it would come back down onto Lydia, and I won’t have that.
Striding to the work table, I lie Lydia down carefully and turn to assess the cook. I’m clueless on how to use my newfound powers so I take a chance and flatten my palm against his wide chest. The first thing I find is a weak but working heartbeat. Concentrating more, I allow magic to flow into Wellum, easily finding his soul—thank the gods I didn’t take it.
Godsdammit. Lydia would be able to get into his mind but obviously, that’s not a possibility right now.
“Or is it?” Kai taunts.
They did say she gave me her soul.
“Share. You share a soul now.”
Letting out a weary breath, my eyes flutter shut as I place my hands on the sides of Wellum’s head—just as Lydia has done to me many times before.
Lines of frustration etch into my forehead. All I can feel is the tickle of beard beneath my palms, no earth-shattering presence of vision. Warmth encircles the tops of my hands, excitement rushes through me thinking I’m actually doing it.
“Like this,” Lydia’s smooth voice instructs me. Magic rushes through my veins, my body hums with power, and in the blink of an eye I’m standing in the middle of a field of yellow sweet clover, Wellum’s brawny back to me.
Staying back to observe, I watch as his shoulders heave up and down, indiscernible whether it’s from rage or sorrow. Taking tentative steps forward, I get close enough to get a glimpse of the scene playing out in front of him.
“His wife.”
Whipping my head around, I lock eyes with Lydia, who has her arms crossed in a comforting manner. Her blue tunic billows in with a rush of wind, exposing her creamy stomach and my breeches low hung on her hips, tied just below the knee.
“Who?” I ask with confusion.
Lydia takes long strides toward me, intertwining our fingers as she guides us to a space near the side of Wellum. In the tall grass, a younger Wellum lies with a beautiful red-haired woman under his arm. Wellum beams with happiness while she laughs, pulling on one of his curved black horns. The moment is so simple and pure, their love permeating their surroundings.
With a short step forward, I can finally see the present Wellum’s face—an expression I know all too well. Rage sits in his clenched jaw, drawn brows, and pinched back ears. His snout flares taking in just enough air not to pass out as wells of sorrow fill his dull, distant eyes. It’s almost as if he’s looking through memory.
“The Collective killed her during a raid—she was helping healers to escape. They dragged her back into their small cottage and slit her throat in front of him. Ella and Wellum had been mated since they were seventeen, friends since they were children.”
“They took him?”
“Yeah. He refused to give up the locations of shelters. Not that I blame him, he truly felt he had nothing left to lose.”
Lydia sighs, rubbing my back before walking over to Wellum. Her hand falls lightly on his thick, fur-tufted arm, breaking his trance. His hoof kicks up dirt and grass in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he drops his head and shoulders as Lydia speaks. He gives her a slow nod before Lydia presses her hands to his temples. Within moments his body dissolves, blown away with the wind.
“He’ll be heartbroken but he’s in his body once again,” Lydia hums, returning to my side. Draping her arms around my neck, she presses her warm body against mine with a soft smile. “We can go now too.”
Plush lips find mine, bringing us back to the kitchen, our bodies intertwined against the hard wooden floor.