Page 4 of To Free a Soul
“Ughhh,”he groaned out. She could almost imagine those chalky, dark lips pulling back in disgust to reveal glossy black fangs.“I’ve always hated being called that.”
A laugh almost slipped out, but she skilfully twisted it into a hum. “You only hate it becausehegave you that name.”
He, being Jabez, someone who Weldir had never hidden his dislike of.
“Sure, but why must it be spirit?”he argued.“I’m more than that. Could it not be god of darkness, or god of the void?”
“Demi-god,” she corrected, unable to quell the small, playful smile that curled her lips.
“A god is a god, no matter their status. The only reason I’m not a fully fledged deity is due to my lack of a form.”
Lindiwe pouted. “It’s only a title.”
“An unbefitting one. It’s equivalent to me saying, ‘The human that sits in that chair.’ It has little meaning.”
“If it has little meaning, it should mean little to you.”
A soft growl enveloped her, one that had her insides quivering with delight.“You, raven, are starting to become irksome in your teasing.”
An outright laugh escaped her, and she leaned back in her chair. “What else would you have me do? I can’t say your name freely, and I do love the way you pout at being called ‘spirit of the void.’” She surveyed the cosy library and its bright and flaming fireplace. “You shouldn’t have given away how much it vexes you.”
“Perhaps not,”he grumbled.
She leaned her elbow on the table and placed her chin in her awaiting palm. Her smile of humour softened.He complains that I’m not forthcoming, and then still complains when I tease him.Over the many years, she’d learned it was rather easy to ruffle Weldir’s mist.
And of course she took every ample opportunity to do so.
They’d found a comfortable push and pull between them. He’d become her friend in the longevity of her life, and she often leaned on the rare and infrequent moments their disjointed relationship shared.
She needed that light, as her life was often shrouded in darkness. Weldir was Weldir; his ability to share deep emotions was as stilted as ever. He was capable of understanding, but he lacked the ability to share in anything real or truly empathise.
It didn’t help that they were worlds apart.
He was there, Lindiwe here, and no love had ever blossomed between them. Just a fondness in the quiet foreverness. She was still his servant, and he her master. She was still a human, and he a god from another fantastical realm.
It was doubtful their hearts would ever align.
Least of all, from his side. And without true nurturing,neverfrom hers.
“You have yet to tell me why you’re bothering me on this fine evening,” she stated playfully.
“All you do is study your little spellbooks. I hardly believe I can ‘bother’ you during such a task.”
“They’re not spellbooks, and you know it.” She picked up a round spectacle and hovered it over the lines within the book. Words of another language shifted to English under the glass, while the surrounding lettering remained foreign. “I’m grateful the Anzúli are allowing me to study their work.”
“Pertaining to spells. Hence, spellbooks.”
Lindiwe rolled her eyes. “And alchemy, history, and all the other tidbits of knowledge I’ve discovered in this library.”
Her lips pursed, and she narrowed her eyes at the line she needed to read twice. Although she understood Anzúlean, the language of the Anzúli, there were a few words that still escaped her.
They often blended together to create a conglomerate of confusing adverbs for Anzúlean, with little added stars and swishes that required context to understand. She’d learned most of them, but having her translation spectacle, which resembleda magnifying glass with a chain instead of a handle, made it comfortable sitting in this library for long periods of time.
By the will of her mind, she could shape the words to translate into English. And with just a little more thought, she could also shift the translation to any Earthly language. The translation spectacle was a much needed and very beloved tool.
“You could always steal these books and study them in my realm,”he offered, his deep voice devoid of any emotion thatshouldhave accompanied such words.
“I’d rather not steal from these kind people. And secondly, Earth is where I belong. I can’t live in your realm.” She almost ended her words with ‘Weldir’ to ensure her point was well made, but she couldn’t say his name here. “Must I point out that you have yet to tell me what you need of me?”
