Soul of Shadows
Sellan

Sellan

The sun began to rise outside, shining through the open windows of my country home, the garden alive with birds that fluttered through the air, searching for worms in the dirt stirred up by the footsteps of two servants, hired by Tatiana to care for the grounds, baskets full of freshly-picked fruit and vegetables hanging from their arms that would be used to make dinner later. Spotting me where I sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of hot tea between my hands, they waved, one of them gleefully exclaiming, “Morning, Eclipsian Sellan!” Dipping my chin to them, I lifted my cup, taking a long sip from it, eyeing the letter in front of me. It was from Tiskial and Ash, the two of them writing just to ask how we were doing, never mind that we had seen them at Destiny and Seth’s wedding.

In the bedroom in front of me, branching off from the end of the cosy kitchen, hidden behind a wooden door, I could hear Jane’s slow and steady breathing. We were fine. Surviving.

Those were the only two words that came to mind whenever I thought of how I could answer their question: How are you and Jane?

But ‘fine’ and ‘surviving’ didn’t seem enough, even if it was the best we could do right now. We were enduring, finding whatever peace and joy we could in between the shadowy days and clinging to them, even if some of those days were worse than others. Sometimes, Jane remained in her room and locked the door, forcing me to spend the day out in the rest of the house while I listened to her cry. On other nights, she would wake up screaming and gasping, and I would hold her, rocking her back and forth until she calmed enough to explain whatever memory haunted her.

And then there was their next question, ‘What have you two been up to?’.

Did I tell my friends that there were days when even I could not bear to rise from bed, when I got phantom aches in my missing eye, as though it were still there? Did I tell them that I applied salve to Jane’s wings every night in the hopes of healing those tears enough that she might fly again? Somehow, that didn’t feel like the right answer either, even if it were true.

Jane would not be getting out of bed today, not when it was only hours after one of her ankles had been rebroken, allowing the bone to heal properly this time. The Shaman that had visited, sent and paid for by Tatiana herself, had made me hold Jane down while she snapped her ankle, before applying a cast. It would be six months before she would be able to walk again without help… And when the next bone, this time higher up on her leg, just above her knee, would also be rebroken again.

The newly-snapped bones only intensified her nightmares, like last night. She had only been asleep for twenty minutes after the Shaman had left before she woke up screaming, startling me from bed, my heart racing at the thought of an intruder. Her screams brought back my own horrific memories of the mirage Zeella and that older male had put on me, not that I could ever tell Jane that. It would only serve to make her feel guilty for getting my help.

That had been three hours ago, and I had been awake ever since. The servants had shown up two hours ago, picking the garden clean and sweeping the porch out the front. A gardener would be arriving later, around noon, to clear up the leaves that were beginning to fall from the trees, and refill the compost that helped keep the gardens growing. In all, there were eight servants and one housekeeper that worked for Jane and I, keeping the home clean and tidy, and attending to our needs. One of them even did our grocery shopping, although I ocassionally accompanied them, bringing back a pastry from the nearby bakery for Jane. The house was large, a two-storey, six-bedroom manor home decorated in a country style, the walls made from bricks and lined with wood that had been either covered over in wallpaper, or painted. It had come furnished, each room tastefully adorned. The grounds, which consisted of twelve acres of land, were fenced off with white picket fences, one of the paddocks full of sheep, their wool sold at the local markets, and there was a stable with horses, cared for by a stable-boy who lived in a cottage down the road. The manor home was on the edge of Tatiana’s territory, bordering on Selphien’s, the new Lake Palace Queen’s closest village only a three-hour journey across the border, through the Silver Mountains. Tatiana and Lucifer had done their best to remove us from the war, placing us as far away as possible from any potential attacks. Out here, where there was nothing more than a smattering of villages and some country homes like my own, there was nothing worth attacking. It was quiet, safe.

Life was peaceful here, even if it was punctuated by horrors from our minds.

Eyeing the letter, I slid it across the table, unable to find the right words to answer it.

I wonder how Destiny was doing.

News of her victory over Nazareth had spread across the Dimensions fast, people calling it the end of the war, celebrating that it was over, we were safe. I knew better; for as long as Lazarus was alive, Destiny would keep fighting.

The Queen of Old Dela had known better than to ask Jane and I to join her war again, although she had sent a letter notifying us of her next steps, citing that she wanted to keep us in the loop even if we would not be fighting.

Her own letter, which was underneath Tiskial’s, contained much of the same questions, although she had artfully requested that I ‘tell it to her straight, without the flowery bullshit’. She knew Jane and I were in rough shape, having been there herself.

According to her letter, she had recently murdered her father, eradicating the Manor once and for all, and bumping her from Demi-Sin of Deceit to Sin of Deceit. Destiny Maladur was a Sin now, and not only that, she was one of the only Sins remaining.

Writing a letter to her was infinitely easier than it was to write one to my closest friends. She understood what I was going through, and while I would never have wished what happened to Jane and I on anyone, I was glad someone else had been through it and could relate.

I poured my heart and soul into it, every nightmare finding its way onto the page, as well as the pain Jane and I were in, explaining that while we were healing, it was tough. The process was hard. When I had written everything I could concerning the recovery of my Fae friend and I, I moved onto her wedding, telling her how beautiful it was, before wishing her and Seth the best and signing the letter, sealing it shut, placing it on the counter. A servant would collect it later and deliver it into the town later. Limping back toward my seat, resting my cane against the table, I reached for one of the pieces of fruit in the middle of the table, biting into an apple so crisp it had to have been picked just this morning, dew still cresting on its perfect red skin. The taste flooded my mouth, and I hummed in appreciation, tilting my head. Living in the sticks came with a bonus: All the food was either fresh or homemade. Destiny’s wedding reception had boasted food from all of the cities and Super-Naturals. At her wedding, it had surprised me how grown she looked, the happiness on her face real rather than one of her clever masks. There was meat on her bones once again, now that the Manor wasn’t starving her for food and life, and she carried herself with a greater confidence. Zeella’s death would have broken her, but it had also reshaped her, freed her from some of the shackles of her childhood.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that Zeella’s death must have been hard, but there was a question on my mind: Where had Lilith gone? She had been Hell-bent on gaining control over the Dimensions, so for her to simply disappear was suspicious.

I shook the thought from my head, knowing it would do me no good to focus on the war. My entire reason for staying out here was to escape the war, not throw myself back into it, even if sitting here could be stifling sometimes.

It was frightening, not knowing if each letter from any one of my allies or friends would be their last, or sensing when they were on the frontlines.

Destiny, I had the feeling, was building up to something big. In truth, I expected nothing less from her. The tone of her letter made me wonder if she wanted to talk in person, or if she would be visiting soon. Hell, I needed to speak with her.

“Sellan!” Jane wailed my name from the bedroom, my cane almost falling when I jolted in surprise, managing to reach out and catch it before it could hit the ground, heaving myself up and limping swiftly to the bedroom. Pushing the door open, I found Jane on the floor, tangled in the blankets, tears streaming down her face as she shoved them away. She cried harder when she saw me, reaching for me, still fighting to get the blanket off her.

My magic pulled it away, separating it from her body, and she threw herself into my chest, trying to shield herself from a horror that only remained in her mind, her tears soaking my linen shirt. Rubbing her back with one hand, I tried to calm my own racing heart, listening to her force her breathing to slow. When she pulled away, her face went pale, falling to the floor with a clatter, clutching the ankle that had been broken and exclaiming, “Ow!” The adrenaline had faded, her mind catching up to her body as whatever pain she felt finally broke through the wall of fading fear.

Placing the cane on the bed, I bent down, awkwardly scooping her up into my arms as best I could, my back burning at the effort. I laid her down on the bed, examining the ankle. One of the vines that made up her cast had come undone, Jane watching as I gently tied it back into place, her foot an angry red underneath.

“You need to try not to move it,” I murmured, picking the blanket up from the floor and folding it, laying it over the end of the bed.

“I think that would be a very boring way to sleep with you,” she teased.

In her thrashing, her dress had tangled around her. I fixed that as well, Jane giving me a tentative but grateful smile, embarrassed that she hadn’t done it herself. We weren’t Connected, the both of us had discovered that centuries ago, after a drunken fling together that had resulted in Kynal giving me a black eye that lasted a week, but there was something between us, a tug that made me want to care for her. Kynal probably would have punched my head in again if he saw what I did next. Centuries ago, when we had sworn that oath to protect Selphien like she was our own little sister, there had been other oaths- each other’s family was off-limits. Screw whoever you wanted, but not family. It was too awkward if it went wrong, not to mention it was almost always used as a way to undermine your fellow soldier, at least for the ranks above us. We respected each other enough not to do that to each other. Except for Ash and Tiskial, who had married, that vow had remained in place until that night Jane had taken me home. When she had panicked about Kynal finding out, both about the fact that she had slept with his friend and that the vow between us had been broken, I took the blame when her brother noticed our combined scents the next day. He had dragged me outside and beat me black and blue, and I had taken it. After all, it hadn’t been just Jane who had messed up. I had, too.

Leaning in, I brushed a kiss to her lips, Jane softening beneath it, kissing me back.

She gripped the edge of my shirt, tugging on it, her way of urging me into the bed, since she could hardly pull me on top of her, given both of our conditions.

Smirking against her mouth, I lowered myself onto the bed, continuing to kiss her…

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