Resurrection (Book Three of the Soul Forge series)

It took six days before the Soul Forge could walk without pain shooting down his spine and almost buckling his knees. After that, it lessened to a lung-punching sting that he could just about fight through without flinching.

Your Spirit friend has a lot to answer for, Vel complained. This fucking sucks.

“He did what he thought was best for everyone,” Sypher answered softly, keeping his voice low to avoid waking Elda.

And now we hurt so bad you can’t even answer me in your head. How is this best for everyone?

“But we are alive and hidden from Aeon,” Sypher countered. “Power is useless to a dead person.”

Power was what stopped us becoming a dead person. One Wraith attack and we were almost history. One, feathers. How the fuck do we protect anyone like this?

“We heal. We rest. We adapt. I’m not defined by my magic. Are you?”

…Damn it. I hate it when you get all philosphical on me, Vel muttered. You’d better hope your trust is well placed. If Hephaestus is lying, we’re fucked.

“I know.” Sypher cast his gaze over Elda sleeping peacefully beside him, golden hair fanned out over her pillow. “But I wouldn’t trust him if I wasn’t absolutely certain he was telling the truth. We have too much to lose now.”

The conversation was cut off by thes sudden hum of magic. A thread of power snaked beneath the door, calling to him to follow. Sypher swung his legs out of bed, shifting aside to allow Vel to share the mental space. A jolt of pain radiated through him the moment his spine straightened, but he walked steadily to the door and listened.

Silence, but the power still called. The Soul Forge opened the door and paused, brows rising at the figure in the corridor outside. The intruder turned, dark tail swishing behind him.

“Hephaestus.”

“Apologies for coming to you in the middle of the night, Soul Forge,” the Spirit greeted, his tufted ears flicking forwards.

“Is it time to move for the monolith?”

“No. It will be soon. I came to see how you were healing.”

“Slowly,” Sypher replied, a hint of Vel’s ire creeping into his tone.

A smile twitched at the half-jaguar’s lips. “I’m glad to see your demon hasn’t lost his fire along with his magic.” Hephaestus folded his arms across his chest and sighed, his gaze creeping to the windows lining the hallway. “The increase in demon numbers is unprecedented, and I still have to be careful with my movements to avoid detection. Otherwise I would have warned you about the coming flock.”

“We had it handled,” Vel shrugged, taking over the conversation. “That last Wraith just got in a lucky shot.”

“A lucky shot that almost killed you.”

“Almost is the key word there.”

“Tenacious, aren’t you?”

“That’s one word for it.”

Hephaestus chuckled. “You really are far more than I ever envisioned, Vel. Nobody anticipated this.”

“Impressive, aren’t I?” Vel grinned.

“Exceedingly so.” Hephaestus set his hands on his hips. “Once the second monolith is destroyed, I’ll have enough power to stand off against Aeon. I can return your magic once it has fallen and my second soul fragment reunites with me.”

“Is there a reason we’re waiting?”

“Yes.”

“And that reason is?”

“Best kept a secret, for now,” Hephaestus replied.

Vel frowned. “Why?”

“If my block slips for even a moment, Aeon could reach any one of you. The less you all know until the monolith is down, the better.”

“Can your block slip?” Vel asked, dark brows creeping upwards.

“It’s unlikely, but it has also been eons since I was free. My magic is somewhat unpredictable and nowhere near functioning at full power.”

“And while you’re putting all this effort into hiding us, what’s to stop Aeon finding out what happened through Malakai?”

“Aeon cannot see Malakai either. The Demon Lord lives because of the magic he stole from the conduits. My magic. It masks him and his Corrupted, and it has done since the day he started drawing power from me.” He sighed. “How’s the wing, anyway?”

“Agonising.”

“Can you stretch it out yourself yet?”

“No. The fine bones are shattered, and the muscle and sinew around the joint was severed down to the bone. Without my healing capabilities I might be grounded for good.”

“I’m glad you have your dragon to compensate.”

A prickle of annoyance brought Sypher to the forefront. “I’m an Angel, Hephaestus. Do you know how it feels to be an Angel that can’t fly?” He ran a hand through his white hair, wincing when the movement pulled the burning wounds hidden beneath his tailored tunic.

“I can’t restore your wings, Sypher. I don’t have the ability to heal.”

“You’re a Creator. How can you not heal?”

“While my soul is split, so is my power. Some of my magical talents are lessened, and some of them are entirely inaccessible becayse they reside within the other conduits. I will regain the power to heal, but right now it’s not within my repertoire.” The Spirit’s tail swished, his rounded ears flicking back and forth. “Your wife is awake.”

“Damn it.” Sypher looked round to find Elda poking her head around the door.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked, blinking away the remnants of sleep.

The Soul Forge turned back to find the corridor empty. “Apparently nothing,” he muttered.

“You should be resting as much as you can. Who knows when Hephaestus will tell us it’s time.” She padded down the corridor, bare feet soundless on the cool stone. “Come back to bed.”

“Gladly.” He allowed her to take his hand and lead him back to their suite, watching her soft hair sway in loose waves down to the middle of her back.

“What were you doing?” she asked when they were settled back under the covers.

“Talking to Hephaestus.”

She sat up quickly. “He came? Is it time?”

“No.” He shifted carefully, laying on his uninjured side and propping his chin on his fist. “He came to check on me.”

“He did?”

“Yes. He also wouldn’t tell me why we aren’t moving yet.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re hurt.”

Or maybe it’s because he’s lying to us, Vel muttered.

“Maybe it is,” Sypher replied.

Elda frowned at him. “You weren’t answering me there. Does Vel disagree?” The Soul Forge sighed, letting the demon soul take over.

“Yes, I disagree.” Vel reached out and looped an arm around her waist, tugging her gently closer until her back touched his chest. “I don’t trust him.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s keeping secrets.” His arm tightened around her fractionally, not enough to cause the familiar shooting pains through his torn muscles. “Sypher is happy to go with your judgement, but I’m…” He trailed off.

“More cynical?” Elda asked, turning in his arms so her palms touched his collar bones.

“Eight centuries of being shunned will do that to a person,” Vel answered. “I just dislike being kept in the dark. I’m used to being a pawn in someone else’s game, varro. This feels very much the same.”

“Did he tell you why he wasn’t giving information freely?”

“He said if his block slips Aeon could reach any one of us at any time.”

“Then it makes sense that he’d keep secrets. He’s weakened right now. If Aeon gets wind of what’s happening here, he’ll come for us.” She frowned. “Why do you think Aeon trapped him?”

“There are a multitude of possibilities, none of them good,” Vel sighed. “But the glaringly obvious ones are either Hephaestus was dangerous and needed to be stopped, or Aeon is dangerous and was never stopped.”

“Both of those are disastrous.”

“Yes they are.”

“I miss just being a Princess,” Elda grumbled.

Vel grinned and pressed his lips to hers for a short, sweet kiss. “Now, varro, you don’t mean that.”

“I know. I just want to be with you without the constant fear that we’re all going to die.”

“You and me both.”

“How are your wings doing?”

“Poorly.”

Elda’s brow puckered. “Any improvement at all?”

“They hurt less when I walk.”

She smiled and glanced over at the window, where the horizon was beginning to lighten with hues of orange and deep red. Every morning, she cleaned and wrapped his wing for him, not disturbed by the gore or discouraged by his pain.

“Well, I’m awake,” she decided. “Do you want to get a head start this morning, or stay in bed until the sun comes up?”

“Stay in bed,” Vel replied, arching an eyebrow. “Always stay in bed.”

“You and Sypher are opposites,” she chuckled.

“I beg to differ,” Sypher objected, settling back into the mental space he was beginning to share comfortably with Vel. “I also vote to stay right where I am. In fact, if my back didn’t feel like it had been flayed, you’d be far too busy to leave this bed, maite.”

“Behave yourself,” Elda giggled when he nuzzled into her neck. “You don’t want to do yourself even more damage. Come on. We might as well get the wound cleaned and your strengthening exercises out of the way.”

“Yay, more pain,” Vel grumbled, sitting up with a defeated sigh. She slipped out of the bed to fetch fresh bandages and a salt bath while he settled himself on the end of the chaise longue.

He was beginning the arduous task of unwinding the bandages around his torso when she returned and shot him a disapproving look. He arched an eyebrow when she gently slapped his hands away and took over.

“You were told not to do this yourself,” she admonished.

“I can unwind a few bandages, varro.”

“Stubborn demon.” She unwound the bandages with practised movements, careful to support the injured wing so it didn’t drop like a dead weight and tear the stitches. “Are you ready?”

Vel nodded and Elda carefully cleaned the stitches, then stretched his wing to its full extension, holding it at the base where it met his back and gently grasping the centre joint to avoid damaging the finer bones beneath the feathers. His fists were clenched, but there was no groan or hiss of discomfort when she flexed the joint slowly, mimicking the motion of flight. The pain still left white spots exploding behind his closed eyelids, but it was marginally less debilitating.

“Are you ready to test the weight?” she asked, and he could hear the apprehension in her voice.

“Might as well get it over with,” the Soul Forge replied, both halves of his soul bracing against the mind-numbing agony that was about to come.

“Alright. I’m letting go.”

Fire. White hot, blistering, molten fire shot up and down his spine and filled his head when his wing dropped immediately. It only fell an inch before she caught it, but it might as well have been torn off. He swallowed the bile rising up his throat and sucked in several steadying breaths.

“Okay, time to bandage you up again.” He nodded, his hands trembling. Elda carefully lifted and folded his wing, wrapping it securely against his back. “I hate doing that.”

“At least I didn’t throw up this time,” Vel remarked.

“Small victories,” she chuckled, putting everything away.

“Maybe I should have put a shirt on before you bandaged me up,” he mused, frowning down at his bare torso. It was still mottled with ugly yellow and purple bruises from the fight with the Wraiths.

“You’ll be in the library with Bennigan anyway,” Elda reminded him. “It’s not like he’ll care if you don’t wear a shirt.”

“No, he’s far too busy looking at you.”

“He is not,” Elda muttered, her cheeks flushing a beautiful shade of pink. “He knows I’m married to you.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t. I’m saying he knows a pretty woman when he sees one.”

“Don’t you have reading to do?” she asked, scowling enough to make him laugh.

“I said I’d pay a visit to Fennix at sunrise,” he told her when he was done grinning. “He has more medicine for me.”

“Hopefully he’ll have a fresh stock of healing salve for your baths too.” Elda braided her hair over her shoulder and set about getting dressed. “I’ll be out on the training field with Cain today. He has some flight manouvers he wants to practice.”

“If you fall I can’t catch you.”

“That’s why Ember will be with us.” She laced up her boots and shot him a smile. “I’ll be fine. The whole point is for me to practice not falling off.”

A knock at the door cut the conversation off and Vel frowned. “It’s not even sunrise yet.”

“Then it’s nothing good.”

The Soul Forge crossed the space and opened the door to find a steward outside. “Can I help you?”

“His Majesty requests your immediate presence in the Chancery, Your Graces.” Elda and Vel shared a look. “It is urgent, I’m afraid.”

The demon soul sighed. “Now I really wish I’d put on a shirt.”