A Soul

A Soul
Mara

Thane, Nythera and I stay outside with a couple of the queen’s guards as the rest of the party make their way inside. I’m not sure what they’re expecting if the safe house isn’t even visible to anyone without magic.

Still, they refuse to not be as careful as possible.

It’s Nerion that steps out of the house, his silver-white hair blowing in the wind. His violet eyes sweep over the forest around us before landing on me. His steps are slow but secure.

“It’s clear,” he says, voice rough.

This time, it’s his thread that pulls tightly. It pulses deep in the pit of my stomach and I’m somewhat breathless as he reaches for me, pulling me from the saddle.

He keeps his hands around my waist even as I’m steady on my feet. Thane dismounts behind me, helping Nythera off her horse.

“Do not stay out here too long,” he grumbles under his breath, disappearing into the house.

Nerion’s violet eyes brighten, slowly caressing the side of my cheek and then down my throat. The magic pulses again, and I know it’s asking for permission, wanting to know if I’m off my break.

No, I’m not.

He brushes my hair behind my ear, letting his thumb rub against the curve of my neck, I suck in a breath. My entire body breaking into goosebumps and my spin shuddering at his intentional touch.

“Your magic has gone quiet.”

I exhale, finding it hard to fight his pull. Wetness pools between my legs, and I bite my bottom lip to hold down a moan. “Yes. I-I needed a break.”

He nods, nostrils flaring. “I imagine we can be a lot.”

I nod.

Nerion’s lips curve into a small smile. “Then I will not ask for more than you can give.”

His fingers remain gentle against my neck, barely there. Then he leans closer, giving me plenty of time to pull away before his lips meet mine.

The kiss is nothing like the hunger I’ve felt from him before. It’s soft. His mouth moves slowly against mine, lingering as though he’s trying to remind me that I can choose this. When his tongue brushes against my lower lip, I part them instinctively, and he slips his tongue inside my mouth.

There is no urgency in him. He simply tastes me.

His hand slides to the back of my neck, holding me close without pulling, while his other arm remains loose around my waist. The gentleness of it makes something inside my chest loosen.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. His thumb brushes once more over my cheek before he lets me go.

“Let’s go inside,” he says quietly. “You have traveled enough.”

I can’t speak breathless. His hand finds my lower back as we walk through the branches and into the stone house. It’s nothing like the home we left behind.

It’s obvious that it has been abandoned for some time. There’s no warmth anywhere. No soft furniture, no bright fabrics, no feeling of any life at all.

There are only stone walls, a handful of old wooden chairs, a long table covered in dust, and a fireplace that takes Rhydan nearly twenty minutes to get going.

Still, it is shelter, and it is nice to get off the saddle. I sit near the fire with my knees pulled toward my chest, watching the flames dance.

Everyone else moves around, cleaning, dusting, getting packs inside from the horses. I’m a little too busy in my head. I don’t know what a vision of a location will feel like, or whether I’ll understand what I’m seeing. Or how I’m supposed to understand how to lead us somewhere.

But I don’t have to figure it out tonight.

It’s then that I feel a tug beneath my ribs. An incessant pull that I do not recognize. It feels like none of the bonds I have formed over the past couple of days.

I lift my head, trying to find whoever is pulling on the bond.

But it’s Nythera that I find walking in my direction, her eyes sad and heavy. Her shoulders are slightly less rigid as she crosses the room and lowers herself onto the stone bench beside me.

The moment she sits, the magic inside me stirs again. Softer, deeper. Almost mournful this time. I recognize it as Lyssara in the next second.

I close my eyes for a moment, feeling her press against the edges of my consciousness. She wants her. She wants to be near her mate.

Nythera must feel something because her gaze shifts toward me. She doesn’t say anything, but I can feel that she has a thousand questions in the depth of her eyes.

The magic pulls again, and I swallow. “I can feel her right now. It’s getting easier for me to distinguish her from my magic.”

Nythera looks down at her hands. “What is she doing?”

“She misses you,” I whisper.

A tiny, broken smile touches her lips. “I know.”

“She loves you.”

This time, I think she might actually cry in front of me. “I love her, too.”

I turn toward her completely. I’ve wondered about this since I first met her. About what it must be like for her to stand beside me, knowing that somewhere inside this body lives the soul of the woman she loved.

Or… loves. The question feels almost cruel. But tonight, I don’t want to be afraid of asking.

“Can I ask you something?”

She nods.

“I don’t know how to say it without sounding insensitive.”

“Try me.”

I take a breath. “What is it like?”

Her brow draws together.

“To be around me?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, and I continue before I lose my nerve.

“I mean... Lyssara is inside me. Her magic and memories. Her soul.” My fingers twist together in my lap. “And you’ve been with her for so long. I can’t imagine what it must be like to look at me and know that she’s in there.”

“When she died, I wanted to tear the world apart. I wanted to die myself. But she made me promise.”

I glance at her. “Promise what?”

“That I would wait for her.” Her voice breaks slightly on the last word.

She quickly wipes at the tears spilling down her cheeks, and I almost regret starting this conversation.

“I didn’t understand what she meant, of course. Until the next Oracle came of age. And then I felt her. Lyssara was right there and I could feel the shape of her soul. For one terrible moment, I thought I had her back.”

My throat tightens.

“But it wasn’t her, at least not completely.”

Nythera reaches for my hand. “I do need you to understand that I don’t love Lyssara because of her body.”

Her thumb moves slowly over my knuckles. I stare at her.

“I loved her body,” she says softly. “Of course I did. I loved everything about her. But those things were never what made her mine. It was her soul.”

The ache in Nythera’s voice takes my breath away. I can feel every word settle inside my chest, the weight of a love that has survived death, time, and everything that should have been enough to destroy it. Her longing hurts in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers.

I frown, turning my hand so it is mine holding hers now. “For what?”

“I want to be selfish. I want to beg you to let her take over so that I can speak to her again.”

The magic inside me pulses. Lyssara isn’t fighting me, she simply hurts. Aches. Longs. I squeeze Nythera’s hand, even if just to distract from the pain in my chest.

She takes a shaky breath. “Imagine loving someone who is dead, and then suddenly feeling their soul reach for you from inside another woman’s body.”

My heart twists. “I can’t even imagine.”

“I hope you never have to.”

Silence settles between us.