Page 21 of Wicked Magik
I pressed my palm against my aching chest, feeling the rapid thud of my hearts beneath my ribs. A soft whimper escaped mymaw as I took an unsteady step backward, desperate to put some distance between us.
While I am strong, he is stronger.
When I was first created, I hit him, but he only gave me patience. He’s never hit me.
I owe him much.
I call himLordout of respect, though the word breaks him—and breaks me too. It feels like betrayal, for my hearts insists he is more than what he allows me to see. Yet even as he holds me at a distance.
My Lord bowed his head and rubbed his hand against his cheek. “Go then, Oryx. I am glad you are home. Rest now and join me for dinner.”
I bowed deeply, feeling the weight of my reverence in the gesture, and carefully backed away through the grand doorway. As I retreated, I kept my gaze fixed on my Lord, who sat hunched in his lab chair, the dim light casting shadows across his furrowed brow. His eyes were distant, lost in contemplation, while his fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on the armrest.
Chapter 8
Vesper
"Can you tell me what is different when you enter the room, Vesper?” My mother’s soft words hit my ears. It was willowy, they moved as the wind when she spoke. Always the soft spoken one, I often thought of how my father spoke because I wasn’t gifted with her soft voice.
Mine was lower, not raspy but made me wonder how other people perceived me.
“I feel us in the room, but I also feel like there is something missing.”
I stepped into the sterile, cold room, the scent of disinfectant sharp in the air. The door closed behind me with a soft thud, butI didn't flinch. By now, I was familiar with the creaks, the subtle bumps, and the occasional scratches that echoed through the night in the old mansion. The dim lighting cast long shadows that danced across the walls, adding an eerie layer to the already unsettling atmosphere.
My mother hummed. “That’s right and why do you think that is?”
I huffed out a breath. “Probably because of the dead body under the sheet.” I pointed.
She chuckled softly, her voice echoing in the quiet room, and gently pulled back the pristine white sheet. Underneath lay an elderly woman, her face serene and free from the lines of life's worries, having passed peacefully the previous week.
My mother had skillfully applied subtle makeup, giving her a lifelike appearance, and her silver hair was carefully arranged. All preparations for the viewing were complete. Now, it was simply a matter of transferring her into the polished oak casket that awaited nearby, lined with soft satin that glimmered in the dim light.
“That’s right, and why do you feel like there is something empty?”
I shrugged my shoulders. I was young. This memory was still embedded inside me though, it was when my mom first explained this all to me.
“The body is a vessel, Vesper. It is but a temporary hold of our spirit that resides within us. The vessel can be bruised, broken, beaten and die, but what is inside us, our spirit carries on through eternity. This vessel can become old, withered and no longer useful. Once the body has reached its limit, the soul will pass into the next world.”
I looked on as my mother combed the last piece of hair that was out of place. “What you need to know, Vesper, is that mysoul, and your soul will always be alive. We will become one with the next world—”
“And what is there?” I interrupted, and held her hand. I didn't want to think of her leaving me, not at such a younger age, but as I had grown up here, I knew that was a very good possibility. Death came for the old and young.
“There are many theories. Depends on if you have lived a good or bad life, one rich, full of life or one where you hid and did not experience the gift you were given. It all depends.” She squeezed my hand.
“If the bodies are just vessels for the spirits,” I began, “why do we treat them with such reverence? Why do we decorate them for others to mourn if we aren’t truly dead?”
My mother stood taller and pushed a tray of instruments away from us. “There are many cultures among humans. We all think differently, which makes us beautiful in our own way. Some see this as your only life, that once our vessel dies, we turn to dirt. Others think we have an afterlife, yet they mourn because we will miss them while we wait for our turn. So, we celebrate their life, like this one.” She smiled and sat next to me.
“I do this because it makes me feel closer to your father. Because, really, I feel like we are worlds apart.” She looked off into the distance. George, our cat flicked his tail as he sat on the shelf, watching.
I crossed my arms. “Sounds kind of morbid.”
She burst out into laughter. “Yes, I guess you are right. It also helps that we have a roof over our heads, food on the table, and a playground just behind this place where you can run and be free.”
I nodded. We had it good. At least in my mind. I didn’t care for the other kids at school. I felt my mother and I cared more on a deeper level and cared far too much for the world outside. I was comfortable here with her. That was all I needed.
A damp cloth, chilled to the touch, pressed against my temple, sending a jolt through my body. The icy water stung sharply, forcing my eyes wide open in alarm. I bolted upright, my mind scrambling to make sense of the dimly lit room around me. Fortunately, a scream didn't escape my lips. Instead, I stared at Oryx, who stood directly in front of me. He raised his hands defensively, and the massive skull swayed from side to side, as though he were as startled as I was.
