Page 102 of To Free a Soul
It was obvious that she inhabited it.
A journal sat on a table that had two chairs tucked underneath it. A fireplace brightened the inside along with the open wooden blinds that allowed the sunshine in. A wooden bench, which he figured was some kind of lounge without padding, had been pushed against the wall next to the biggest window.
A pair of barely used flats were next to a doormat, on which she wiped her feet before heading towards the kitchen area. One-handed, she carefully placed each item she’d collected onto a thin tray. Then she opened a low-burning hearth, placed the tray inside, and moved to stir a bubbling pot.
She isn’t cooking food. Medicine or some kind of Anzúli alchemy, perhaps?
Her face, although clean and healthy, was entirely devoid of emotion. There were no dark smudges of tiredness at the inner corners of her eyes, but her gaze lacked the usual life he expected to see in it.
The fire of his mate, who looked at the world with unbending determination and will. Who had always appeared ready for battle, whether it be against nightmarish creatures or the curse of intelligent, sentient existence.
It was all missing.
Despite this, a sense of... calm pushed through him. He hadn’t realised his mist had been buzzing with worried tension until he saw his mate was well. No doubt she was unhappy, but she had found a place to reside that was safe and comfortable.
“Lindiwe,” Weldir called.
A gasp parted her lips, and she lifted her face from the simmering pot to the sunny window in front of her. She dropped the wooden spoon inside the pot, and it clunked against the edge, slowly slipped to the side, and sank within the thick, bubbling broth.
“Weldir?” she whispered.
“Yes, owlet.”
Tears welled in her sparkling eyes and instantly spilled over. He hadn’t expected tears; he thought she’d go into a tirade about his disappearance. She covered her face with her right hand, and her shoulders trembled inwards as she heaved out a quiet sob.
“I’ve been so worried about you,” Lindiwe cried, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I didn’t know when or if you were ever going to wake up. I knew something was wrong when I saw your mist fading, and I knew using your magic would only further harm you.”
A shaken, shuddering breath, like it didn’t know if it wanted to exhale or be sucked in, broke from her. As if she needed to steady her legs, she placed her hand upon the oak bench andjust let her tears fall freely. Each one that landed on the wooden surface darkened it with a wet splotch.
“It’s beenyears. What happened?”
“Nathair consumed a few dozen souls while I was recuperating my mana,” Weldir informed her. “Our offspring is not well, and has not only damaged himself, but me as well. Everything we have done, all the souls we have collected together... all the power from them is gone.”
Lindiwe slapped the table with her hand. “I don’t care about your power right now!” she yelled through a sob. “It’s been sixty-two years, Weldir!”
He was stunned into silence.It’s been that long?
“What I’ve gone through...” Lindiwe said through shaking lips, cupping her side. “I’ve been stuck in Austrális for twenty-five years. When our children needed me, I could not be there.When I needed you... you weren’t there.”
“I am... sorry, Lindiwe.” His mist pulsed in and out due to the collision of mingling emotions. Guilt, despondency, sympathy. “You wished to know what has happened, and my fading mist is the reflection of my mana depletion. I’ve been slumbering and drawing back subconsciously tosurvive.”
Anger flashed across her face at his mentioning once more of his power, only for it to fade.
Her eyes softened with uncertainty. “Survive?”
“Had Nathair consumed any more before succumbing to the fragments, I would have ceased to exist.”
“How is that possible?” she cried, shaking her head. “You are agod! You aren’t allowed to die on me.”
“Demi-god,” Weldir corrected, like she usually did. “I don’t have the same benefits as a fully formed deity. Useless and not all-knowing, as you once said.”
Her lips shook as she weakly admonished, “Don’t say that.” She licked them to soothe their trembling. “Can you just hurry up and bring me to your realm?”
Taken aback by her request, he regarded his mate differently. He didn’t know why. Perhaps it was because he never thought she’d cry for him, over him, or make it sound as though she...missedhim.
“There is little of me to see,” he admitted.
“I don’t care.” She grabbed the long handle of the simmering pot and pulled it away from the heat. She waved at the internal stove. “The coals in there are so low for drying those herbs that it’ll safely go out. It’s just medicine and scent-cloaking ingredients for the nearby town. Everything else I want from here... I can come back for later.”
