Chapter 12 #2
“More importantly,” Kali interjected, “more than two-thirds of your soul is now trapped in that amulet. You absolutely must not part with it until you are made whole again. If separated, what remains of your soul in your corporal vessel will decay rapidly, and you will die within a few hours. But either way, you must be made whole quickly. A soul cannot remain fractured. The greater part will try to reclaim the missing part. Over time, what’s left inside you will seep into the Amulet to be whole again.
Then your body will become an empty shell. ”
I swallowed hard while nodding stiffly at her statements. From my painful experience in the Sanctuary, I knew firsthand not to part with the wretched Amulet. But learning that I lived on borrowed time—even should I keep the necklace safely around my neck—was another blow I could have done without.
“You’re an Angel of Death,” I said to Pharos, hope audible in my voice. “You move souls in and out of people all the time. Can you move mine back in?”
“I’m afraid not,” Pharos said apologetically.
“Of course, he can’t,” Lyall hissed. “That fucking Covenant always gets in the way.”
Even as my shoulders slouched, I couldn’t help but notice the troubled expression that flitted over Pharos’s face in light of his brother’s reaction. He hesitated and appeared to choose his words carefully.
“This actually isn’t mainly an issue of the Covenant—although that would have indeed gotten in the way as well,” Pharos said.
“What?” Lyall asked, confused.
“Reapers remove souls from their hosts and escort them to one of the realms of the afterlife,” he explained.
“We do not put them back in. Once the soul has been taken out, we cannot return it. The only other thing we can do is to temporarily sever the link between the soul and the body to remove any physical pain a dying person may feel.”
“I see,” Lyall said pensively.
“Do I understand correctly that you are a necromancer?” I asked Kali.
She nodded. “Yes, I am. I specialize in bone and blood magic. And since marrying Pharos, I’ve been dabbling a lot more into soul magic.”
“That’s wonderful!” I exclaimed, hope blossoming again in my heart. “Necromancers play with souls all the time. So if you’re into soul magic—”
“No,” Kali said, interrupting me with a finality that struck me like a boulder in the chest. “You do not want my aid in this.”
“Why in the world would I not?!” I asked, genuinely confused and a bit angry at what felt like an almost heartless refusal to assist.
“Because doing this would basically enslave you to me,” Kali said, a haunted look flitting through her stunning gray eyes.
“It would be a little bit like what the necromancer Cornelius did to me,” Pharos explained. “I was his involuntary puppet for centuries until my Kali helped free me.”
Kali nodded. “Obviously, I would never treat anyone the way that monster treated Pharos and my brother Jasper—who he had also enslaved. But that’s the way of necromancy.
When we place a soul into a body or construct, we create a permanent bond of servitude.
This is why I keep my practice of soul magic to a minimum.
If I did this for you, even if I wouldn’t abuse such a link between us, you must understand that you would never be free.
Your soul would be mine. And I will never do that to anyone. ”
Anger and despair swelled within me. Even though no one here was at fault for my current predicament, I couldn’t help the burning urge to turn them all to cinders to vent my frustration at the unfairness of it all.
“So what you’re saying is that I’m fucked,” I said angrily.
Lyall gently rubbed my back in an appeasing fashion. Kali hesitated, not because she was offended by my aggressive reaction, but because she appeared to be weighing her response.
“Actually, I heard of a ritual that can be performed in Hecate’s temple,” she replied carefully. “As far as I know, it was only achieved by a Fallen, With everyone else failing. So I cannot make any promises as far as the success rates go. I only know that it can work.’
“Where is the temple? And what is the ritual?” Lyall demanded, his voice filled with the same sliver of hope I felt.
“The temple is located in the Deadwing Pass on the northern peak of Wolfmoon Mountains. Rituals to that goddess are more powerful when performed there during the full moon,” Kali said. “Which will be in about two weeks.”
“Can I wait that long?” I asked, my back stiffening with tension.
Kali pursed her lips and gently reached for the Amulet.
The instinctive urge to claw her eyes out for touching it shamed me.
I hated how my visceral responses to any perceived threats or disappointments now systematically veered towards violence.
Judging by the subtle hint of pity that crossed her features, quickly hidden, I suspected she had sensed the savage intent that crossed my mind.
That both further shamed and enraged me. Still, I managed to rein in the beast.
She held the Amulet in her open palm, staring at it like one would weigh an object. The Necromancer then locked eyes with mine, hers slightly glowing as she peered into me, beyond flesh and bone. Moments later, she let go of the Amulet and took a step back.
“If you keep the Amulet close, you might be able to wait that long,” Kali answered at last.
“I might?” I insisted.
She shrugged with an apologetic expression.
“Each person is different. At a glance, I believe you can last three to four weeks. But a variety of factors can affect that duration. Just know that you will begin to falter. So you must monitor closely any signs of weakness, absent-mindedness, and any sudden or strange illnesses. Once they appear and start becoming debilitating, you will know that you’re running out of time. ”
“I will keep a close watch,” Lyall said in a tone that brooked no argument. “But what is the ritual? What does it entail?”
Kali shook her head. “I don’t know it by heart. But I will look for it. You will have it for certain by tomorrow. I’ll do some extra research to see what more might be done to help Eleni.”
“Thank you, Sister,” Lyall said with the same gratitude I felt.
I glanced at Pharos, suddenly struck by a thought. “As I understand it, Reapers can see people’s threads of life. Can you see mine?”
“Of course,” he replied, his tone suddenly reserved.
Lyall’s arm around my waist tightened, and a tense expression settled on his face as he studied his brother. They had both already guessed what my follow up question would be.
“Does mine end?” I asked.
“Let me guess. The Covenant won’t let you answer,” Lyall intervened, his voice dripping with frustrated anger.
Pharos hesitated. He stared at his brother for a second before returning his attention to me.
“All I can say is that a path still exists where you share a long and happy life with Lyall. Do not give up.”
He paused for a second, carefully choosing his words.
“There is both light and darkness in each of you. Embrace who you are. All of who you are,” he said at last, his tone both mysterious and solemn.
In that instant, I realized he was trying to give us a hint within the constraints of the Covenant. I couldn’t imagine living with this kind of shackles. And in this specific instance, it infuriated me to be denied clarity on what had to be a vital piece of information to save my life.
“Esto quod es…” I caught myself whispering, echoing Father Paulus.
The strangest expression flashed over Pharos’s eerily beautiful face.
“Yes, Eleni. Be what you are. And this also applies to you, my brother. Be what you are,” Pharos said before giving Lyall’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.
Lyall scrunched his face as if he’d bitten into something sour.
“I hate all these bullshit riddles,” he muttered in a grumpy tone.
Kali snorted, while Pharos chuckled. Although I shared his sentiment, even I couldn’t help a smile.
“Anyway, maybe there’s something else you can help us with,” my man continued, piquing our collective curiosity. “Do either of you know this place?”
As soon as he finished speaking these words, a vivid image of the memories he’d gathered from the dead cultist in the Sanctuary appeared before our eyes.
It was some sort of dungeon where the ten missing clerics were hanging from the ceiling, held by chains.
A violent shudder ran down my spine at the thought that—if not for Lyall’s timely presence in the crematorium—Sienna, Vivian, and I could be dangling from the three remaining empty chains.
Both our hosts shook their heads and responded by the negative when the image disappeared. However, it was Kali’s troubled expression that retained my attention.
“What is it?” I asked her.
She chewed her bottom lip while she reflected a moment longer.
“I know what this is,” Kali replied pensively. “This is a necromantic ritual. You need thirteen brides as a willing sacrifice. It allows the person performing the ritual to receive extreme healing and potentially even gain immortality.”
“Immortality?!” I repeated, the curiosity I felt reflected in equal measure on both our male companions faces.
She nodded. “The recipient’s life is extended by each victim’s individual lifespan. He also acquires their powers and receives an additional boon at the time of the ritual.”
“What kind of boon?” Lyall asked, echoing my thoughts.
“It often is some form of healing,” Kali explained pensively. “As the caster of such a high-level spell usually is a lot older to have acquired the skills necessary for it, they will want a body in prime health and condition before expanding its life.”
It was my turn to nod. “Yes, that makes sense.”
“But it could also be a radical shift in appearance. Like a demon would take on a human appearance. A human could want some features from a dweller of the Netherworld. Or they could flat out change their gender, ethnicity, or general look. However, healing is usually the more beneficial boon.”