Tasteful Darkness

Chapter 45

65 Years Later

Balendin

I've spent my entire existence knowing that if I had to, I could disappear. I could become something—someone else, and no one would notice me ever again. For the previous sixty five years, two months, and three days, that has not been the case.

I've grown to love Vincent, but not the name. It always felt like it belonged to the world, when it should only belong to one person. The one and only human who ever called me by my true name.

But that was his downfall. Being mortal.

Everything must end eventually, I suppose, but that's never been true for me. With half a soul and half the body of a Guard, I become something else entirely. I could no longer change my form, but Vincent never aged. I even require sustenance through forms beside souls.

Sometimes the familiar hunger comes crawling back, but not as strong as it once was. I can still claim souls for my own—I tried once decades ago—but there's no point anymore. I will put up with the pain if it means never having to kill ever again.

Peter taught me to be human, and I only wish I could have taught him to be a Guard. And yet, it doesn't work like that, and it never will.

I knew he was sick before any doctors confirmed it. The part of his soul inside of me began to notice the weakening in his. Whenever he coughed and insisted he was fine, I would feel a twinge of something indescribable.

I never studied aging until I met him because I never had anything worth staying around for. Being with him as he aged fascinated me, but a deep sorrow grew in turn.

I could no longer see when he would die since his time had already come and gone, not to remain in the Underworld I stole him from. Whenever I tried to look for his death after that, there would be nothing but the unknown.

It came as a surprise one night. I woke up to the sound of labored breathing. Beside me on the bed, Peter clutched his chest and began taking too short of breaths.

I didn't think it would happen so soon.

I swept him out of the bed and brought him to the only place I could think of. It was a house that belonged to an old woman I had heard of years ago. Rumors of her ability to heal were widespread, and everyone went to her to save themselves the far too long journey to the nearest hospital.

When I made it to her home, Peter was so close to being lost. His skin was the palest I had ever seen, and all I wanted was to save him. I would have gone back to the Underworld and brought his soul back a hundred times again just so he would keep living.

But I knew I couldn't.

"Bring him here," the woman—Ariel—told me, gesturing to a small bed.

I listened and draped him across the thin blankets. He already felt so cold as I slid my hand into his. His skin was covered in wrinkles he acquired from over the years, but I never found myself loving him and his body any less. He was still the Peter I met decades ago.

He still had my heart, and I still had half his soul.

"Your father is very sick," Ariel said, going to a nearby set of drawers and sorting through assorted jars.

I didn't bother correcting her. My body felt vacant and yet full of such sorrow so heavy I thought I would collapse. The dread was a knife twisting inside of me with every passing moment.

I wouldn't take my eyes off Peter. When his eyes finally crept open, I fell to my knees beside him.

No tears came. He couldn't see me broken—I would never do that to him.

"Balendin," he whispered, my name a blessing on his tongue.

"I'm here, Peter," I told him, my voice nearly as weak as his. "I'm not going anywhere."

He smiled, and for a moment, images of a younger man flashed through my mind.

"I will be right back," Ariel said, offering me a comforting smile that did nothing against the storm raging inside of me. She slipped out through the door, and I was left alone with Peter.

"Do you remember our plan?" he asked quietly.

I nod. "Of course."

Years prior, we realized that Peter couldn't return to the Underworld. Not only did Peter not want to face the darkness again, but I had no way of knowing whether or not the Creator would try to harm him again. Not only that, a severed soul had never existed before—there is no place in the Underworld for them. It wasn't a risk we were willing to take.

On that day years ago, Peter made me promise him that when his last day arrived, I would take his soul and set it free once and for all.

"You'll have to take me," Peter had said. "That's the only way I'll stay out of the Underworld."

"What? I've only done it once—" I had cautioned.

"With Althea, I remember—"

"And I have no idea what happened to her. What if you go somewhere worse than here—worse than the Underworld?"

He had refused to listen to me, and in the end, I had agreed. I had to.

Six years after that conversation, there we were, Death standing beside us.

I stayed silent beside Peter, all words lodged in my throat. I knew what I had to do—his final request—but it didn't hurt any less.

"Thank you for this life you gave me," Peter told me as I stood.

"You were my life, Peter," I said, quietly.

His dry lips pulled into a smile.

I placed my hand on his chest, feeling his incomplete soul beneath my fingers. Its counterpart still rested in my chest.

"I love you, Balendin," Peter whispered, starting to close his eyes.

"Don't close your eyes, Peter," I demanded, my voice shattering.

He smiled, letting his eyelids fall. "I don't want you to watch me go," he said, his voice weak and slipping away. "You always said my eyes gave too much away..."

His voice left him the moment his soul did.

His soul was so small, incomplete, missing. Finally holding it in my hands broke something inside of me.

Peter was truly gone. I wouldn't be able to get him back anymore.

The soul stirred and levitated from my palm. It floated up in the air, only to pause in front of my face. It drifted closer, brushing against my cheek where a tear had begun to fall. The moment made a smile, but the darkness returned as I watched the soul leave my side and fly away through an open window.

I watched him leave. In that moment, I felt everything worth living for leave with him.