Tasteful Darkness

Chapter 26

Balendin - Now

Something inside me aches. I just had a soul the other day—though thinking back on what happened with Adrian nearly makes me flinch—but I am already hungry again.

Or maybe it's just the boredom getting to me.

Peter is still here, sitting in the small nook resting behind a window. He keeps his gaze towards the outside, his brown eyes glazing over the rain as it cascades. I watch him, my foot anxiously tapping against the ground.

No wonder he's still here. The rain is pouring outside.

I suppress a groan forming in my chest. I am the one who offered refuge, but he didn't have to accept it. He could have walked back home and stayed there.

"Is there something you need to say?" Peter asks, his gaze still facing away from me.

"No," I lie. "Why?"

His eyes meet mine. "You keep taking in breaths like you're about to speak."

Am I? "I'm breathing."

He doesn't say anything else and looks back outside.

Not knowing what else to do, I stand and brush the nonexistent dust from my trousers.

Peter glances back at me. "Have I overstayed my welcome?"

"No," I say. "I need to do something."

What I don't say is that I'm also leaving before the silence in the air wraps itself around my neck and chokes me.

I leave the living room and slip into my bedroom, in addition to quickly closing the door behind me. I let out a long breath, leaning my forehead against the door.

What is happening to me?

Something is wrong. The entire time I was in there—with him—my body didn't seem to work. My Guard form was in constant state of fight or flight, and I can tell it desperately wanted to fight something that wasn't even there.

I suck in a breath and sigh it all out.

I can do this. I've done much harder things in both the Overworld and Underworld than simply sitting in a room with another human.

My fears are far from rational.

I go to open the door once again when I hear something. Something that sends true fear coursing through me.

"Balendin," they say—a whisper that cuts into me.

I wheel around to face them, but they come too quickly. All I see is a flash of my creator before their finger is pressing against my chest and I'm falling into darkness.

✧ ✧ ✧

I'm back. I'm back in the place I never wanted to go back to. I'm back somewhere I haven't been to in a thousand years.

"Wake up, Balendin," I hear my creator say.

I pull open my eyes. As soon as I see the familiar darkness of the Underworld, I scramble into a standing position. I frantically look down at my hands, expecting to see my Guard form that I have spent so long forgetting.

But it's not. I have the hands of a human.

"What is this?" I ask.

It is not possible for me to have a human form in the Underworld—the laws of this very place prevent it.

"You are not truly here," my creator says.

I look up and meet their cruel gaze. "Creator."

"Balendin," they say. "You are running out of time. You have only nine days to give me this soul."

Nine days. Adrian never told my creator of our wager.

"I know, my creator," I say. "I will have it by then."

They take a long look at me. "Balendin," they say, turning and waving their hand through the air. Bright light emits from their fingertips and forms a pale screen. Images flash to life, projecting against the blank air.

Fire, ash, blood, war—everything dark and devastating in the world appears in front of me.

"Is this really what you seek?" they ask, their voice solemn. "This is what you will find in the Overworld if you take the path of the Nightwatcher." Another wave of their hand and the images dissipate in the air. "Our kind—all types—crave balance. Humans no longer need the help of Nightwatchers to bring destruction to their world."

The images replay over and over in my mind. "What are you trying to say?"

"I only want what is best for you, Balendin," they say. "I created you for a reason—to be a Guard of mine—but I now realize you yearn for something more. Something I cannot provide you."

"I don't understand. Don't you want a soul of love?"

"Of course I desire such a thing, but this is bigger than that. Come home now and stop wasting your time up there. You do not even know if you will get the soul."

"I will," I tell them, my voice as strong as I can make it. "Then you will have your prize, and I will have mine."

They look at me for a long time after that. I wait for them to cast me out of this world, but they only stay still.

"I see," they say. "Well then. For as long as I do not have the soul within my grasp, Adrian will spend their time in the River."

"What?" I blurt out. "No—they have no part of this."

"They were helping you. That was never a part of our ordeal."

I suddenly can't breathe. Adrian still exists, but at what cost? I know what the River does to human souls and Guards. It wipes the minds of humans until they forget their purpose and spend their lives drifting in the dark waters, but Guards cannot forget and cannot die. We feel the agony of every soul floating in the River. We hear their endless screams that can only be heard within its depths—we feel ourselves being ripped apart, only for the release of death to never come.

"I suggest you get that soul quickly," they say. "Adrian will pay for your wasted time."

"Please—"

But they don't give me time to finish. A snap of their fingers and I'm ripped away.