15. Leah #3
It was difficult to control my anger around her. Every time I looked at that bruise or saw her wince from the slash in her side, it tore at me. I’m still furious with myself for being so stupid. I of all demons should’ve remembered that humans can be fragile.
“But I’m going to rectify it,” I say firmly. “We’ll make sure she’s stronger before we send her out again.”
Viz lifts his eyes to study me instead of his parchment. “I imagine it was unpleasant, possessing her while she was attacked.”
“Yes,” I say, searching for the words and not finding them.
It’s not that I was in pain, precisely. I didn’t actually feel like my own skin was being sliced, nor did I experience the sensation of a fist colliding with my jaw.
But I did feel it on some level. A kind of internal damage, raw and tender, that rattles me even now when I think about it.
“It was…vivid. Much more so than witnessing violence in normal circumstances.”
Viz is looking at me sympathetically, but his pencil is still hovering expectantly over the piece of paper in his hand.
“You’re desperate to write that down, aren’t you?” I say, huffing a laugh mixed with a sigh. “Can I have a single revelation without you wanting to document and cross-reference it?”
“Well, it’s interesting!” he says, defending himself. “Most demons don’t experience a possession link this strong. It must be the binding spell those sorcerers used.”
“Yes,” I say, deciding not to protest when he starts writing again. “That must be the reason.”
But I’m going to make sure I don’t have to feel that way again.
I push the thought aside for now as we arrive at the edge of the Morphos.
Quill is already there, prompt as ever. He straightens when he sees me approach, though he stops short of a full salute.
It took me decades to train that habit out of him.
I had to keep reminding him that I’m his lord, not his general, no matter how long he served in Kaliban’s army.
Yealey’s slight frame makes an interesting contrast to the burly soldier as he wades to shore.
“My lord,” he says, holding up a hand in greeting. “Thank you for coming. Quill, Chamberlain Vizmodeus,” he nods to the others.
“Don’t thank me, Yealey,” I say. “You know I’m keen to hear any updates on the lake. How’s it doing?”
Yealey pulls a face. He’s lost weight recently. This is a hard time to be a keeper, something he’s always described as more of a vocation than a profession.
“Not well, I’m afraid. The waters are troubled, and the souls within them even more so. I fear that if things continue, they may refuse to rise.”
“That can happen?” Quill asks.
“It hasn’t for close to a millennium,” Viz jumps in, eager to share. “But records show that there have been periods of stagnation for the Morphos in the past. Decades when no one rose after too much unrest in Infernum or Strata.”
“At least we know now what’s causing the upset,” Yealey says. My head turns sharply toward him.
“We do?”
“I don’t know who exactly is responsible, but it’s clear now why some of the souls are getting lost. The other keepers and I have been working on some calculations, testing the waters with runic meters.” He locks eyes with me, his hands twisting with worry. “Some of it is missing.”
“Missing?” I repeat.
“Some of the water has been taken—and I don’t mean the vials we give the snares or those who drink from it. The lake’s balance isn’t upset by such small quantities being removed. Right now, it’s missing a lot.”
I stare at him, processing this. “And what does that mean for the souls?”
“Well,” Yealey holds his hands out, looking a bit bewildered himself, “it means that the souls traveling through the aether from Strata are at risk of going astray. The lake guides them here, but if a portion of the Morphos is elsewhere, then—”
“Then they don’t know what direction to go in,” Viz finishes, naturally writing all this down. “They’re getting mixed signals.”
I look out across the lake. From here, there’s nothing to tell a casual observer that the Morphos is in trouble.
Just like you wouldn’t know there are lost souls out there, wandering blindly through the aether, perhaps forever.
Both are happening because I didn’t do enough to protect this lake.
But it’s in my domain, and I’ll make sure I don’t shirk my duty again.
No more souls are getting lost on my watch.
“Send a message to the snares,” I say, turning to Viz. “All soul deals are suspended until further notice.”
Yealey’s eyes widen, but he nods enthusiastically. “I think that would be best, Lord Syrus.”
Quill, meanwhile, grunts. I’ve known him long enough to be able to translate that.
“You don’t think it’s the right decision?” I ask.
He lifts a shoulder in his defense. “You must do as you see fit, my lord, but it’s drastic. Lord Kaliban won’t like it.”
“What would be drastic would be adding more souls to the mix knowing they might never make it here,” I say, my voice stern. “I can’t take that risk, but I can deal with Kaliban. After all, he owes me.”