Chapter 189: 189
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Soren does not answer immediately, instead, he places his hand against my cheek, cupping my face as he holds me gently to him, as though disdaining to let himself be pulled away. But his silence only serves to invoke a further confusion, so as I furrow my brows, pulling back, I search him, scanning his eyes for answers, but finding none.
I almost can't bear to look over him, to see the leathery wings upon his back, the curious darkness that seeps under his skin, down towards the tips of his fingers, thinking as though perhaps all this, after all this time, might not be so real after all. So I ask once more, unsatisfied by the silence.
"But Azrael had you- didn't he? I saw you be taken by him up in the palace. None of this makes any sense, Soren. How can you be you, actually you, when you are currently being held captive by Azrael! You were bound in silver chains for hells sake!"
"It's true," Kal whispers lowly, shooting an apologetic smile in my direction before stepping forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I saw you taken, Soren. So unless you have somehow escaped Azrael's grasp, I would say it is fair to say we have our doubts," he adds, gesturing Soren up and down.
There is a wariness, caution, about the gesture that makes me believe Kal too has his doubts about the integrity of the whole thing, but he doesn't make any moves yet. After all, Soren has already proven him wildly wrong a first time.
Sighing, Soren shakes his head, amber eyes glowing.
"You misunderstand me," he urges, holding my hands in his with such an energetic fervour that is hard not to believe him.
"Azrael still has me, but only a part of me. I have remained here for several hundred years. But Azrael has my corporeal form, right through that door where he plans to split my soul from my body in about...." he stops, as though listening, feeling for something, his gaze retreating back on itself until he adds: "...half an hour," he denotes, pointing to the door behind the throne, locked up with a series silver bolts.
I narrow my eyes at it, my head spinning with question after question until I feel I am going to be sick.
Corporeal form? Part of him?
Absently, my eyes curve upwards, tracing the silver laced perimeter around the room, my heart racing in my chest. Faintly aware of my actions, I realise then and there that the entire length of the walls are coated with it- that silver, shining with a radiance from a dim, red light source that dangles like globules of blood from the ceiling.
This place looks no more like a labyrinth than a prison for vampires.
But right now that is the least of my worries.
"Soren, I don't understand," I cry desperately, wringing out my hands.
"What do you mean by corporeal form..? Is everything I have done with you -him- a lie?" I ask slowly, pulling back to scan over his body, over the span of his black wings and the glistening scales on his forearm that gleam wet with blood. Before I know it, there are tears welling in my eyes, glistening droplets of water on my cheeks.
Gently sniffling, I prod his arm, his chest, testing the warmth of his skin under my fingertips, the delicate silkiness of his skin. He certainly seems like Soren- bar a few minor alterations in form. But the way he professes himself makes this Soren seem like he is something else entirely, an alternative segment of him that has remained trapped in this prison of silver for a very, very long time.
I just don't understand.
"Hey," he whispers quietly, leaning down to wipe away the droplets of moisture that have caught on my cheeks with his thumb. "Darling, you have it all wrong, I-"
Before he can finish, Kal cuts him off.
"I know what you are," says Kal, stepping forward slightly, his footfalls wary, his breath sharp, as if quite unsure what to make of this new creature in front of him. Kal circles round to inspect the wings momentarily, before drawing himself back up.
"What is it?" Delina insists, drawing up beside us, her blue skin tinged purple under the red luminescence that dangles above our heads. Kal motions her to be quiet, clearly annoyed at being interrupted.
"You," he says, jabbing a finger in Soren's direction. "Are what our Soren- the corporeal one, put in place to guard his tier of the labyrinth, I mean, he wouldn't just leave an empty room, that would be careless of him. You are... him. Somehow, though I am not sure how," Kal notes, trying his best not to look at Soren's very pale, very naked (save for the jacket I have since thrown over him) body- a fact we seemingly all seemed to dismiss. Noticing this, Soren raises an eyebrow.
"Apologies, am I distracting you, Kal?"
Kal blushes furiously.
"Of course not, I was just-"
Waving a hand dismissively, Soren runs a hand over his body, coating it in a thick black mist which after a few seconds settles against his skin, consolidating into an opaque cotton material that fits his form nicely. Now dressed in a shirt and a pair of long sweeping trousers, Soren brushes himself off, looking remarkably pleased with himself despite everything.
Personally, I liked him better without clothes, but that's not my call to make. And by the sly smirk Soren shoots me, I'd hazard a guess he has realised that too.
"You are indeed correct Kal," Soren admits after that brief interlude, splaying his hands as he gives the dragon boy a proud, fatherly look. "I am, in every way, him."
"So," Delina interrupts slowly from behind us, chewing over her words carefully in an effort to try and make light of the situation. "You aren't like an illusion then? But you are not actually the real Soren, its more like you are under his control?" Positioning herself beside Kal, obviously more comfortable now Soren has been clothed, she surveys his body over.
"No," I voice softly, causing Soren to lower his eyes at me, amber orbs glowing with a fiery compassion. Gently I lace my hand with his, causing a little shock to run over my skin, electrifying my senses. I recall the throb of my heart that had lead me down here, the tug and pull that persisted under my skin, dragging me deeper into the labyrinth inch by inch. I recall how it felt to touch him, the way I shivered when our skin made contact, as if every part of my body had been set alight with a heavenly flame.
This is no illusion, no shadowy façade. This is him, or at least, a part of him.
Suddenly all at once, everything clicks together.
The wings. The darkness that lurks like a plague under his skin. The way his body swirls with a strange ethereality that is not his own...
"You are his soul, or the soul. The soul of hell," I whisper breathlessly, my voice barely heard even in the hush of the room. Gently I take one of his blackened hands in my own, marvelling over the beauty of his skin, and the inhuman qualities of his being. The wings, the scales, the golden eyes, even down to the two sets of horns Soren boasts.
Soren has the soul of hell, the soul of a demon, a monster, the governor of sin and wrongdoing, the punisher of evil- and this form encapsulates exactly that.
Slowly, Soren nods, lacing his hand with mine.
"You are half right, my dove. My corporeal form- the one Azrael has currently, could not survive without a soul, so instead, I split a part of my soul off- only temporarily, to remain here and guard the flame. I am that fragment of his soul- I share his every thought, his memories, his experiences. I am him, and he is me. We are one and the same. There is no this Soren, or that, but only one. Though I had hoped you would never seem me like this," he says, lifting his hands to survey the markings that befall them, the black swirls and patterns that etch into his skin like war wounds. Soren sighs.
"Perhaps some day soon I shall be able to return to my body and be whole once more, perhaps even today," he muses, his hands tightening over my own, thumb caressing my skin lovingly.
A certain awestricken horror settles over the room as we mull over this revelation, lulling us all into silence. The only sounds are the steady dripping of a watery substance, and my heavy breaths as I press myself up against Soren, breathing in the sweet smell of roses, fresh and sweet. Bringing his free hand up to rest behind my head, Soren runs his fingers through my hair, stroking it reassuringly.
It seems just as I begin to think Soren can surprise me no more, that he has pulled out every trick in the book, there is always something else that catches me off guard, another twist that makes him all the more amazing. I can never cease to be astounded.
Soren split his soul to guard the flame. So if I have only witnessed Soren with part of his power, what kind of devastation will he leave upon the world when his corporeal form and remaining soul are restored?
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Soren does not answer immediately, instead, he places his hand against my cheek, cupping my face as he holds me gently to him, as though disdaining to let himself be pulled away. But his silence only serves to invoke a further confusion, so as I furrow my brows, pulling back, I search him, scanning his eyes for answers, but finding none.
I almost can't bear to look over him, to see the leathery wings upon his back, the curious darkness that seeps under his skin, down towards the tips of his fingers, thinking as though perhaps all this, after all this time, might not be so real after all. So I ask once more, unsatisfied by the silence.
"But Azrael had you- didn't he? I saw you be taken by him up in the palace. None of this makes any sense, Soren. How can you be you, actually you, when you are currently being held captive by Azrael! You were bound in silver chains for hells sake!"
"It's true," Kal whispers lowly, shooting an apologetic smile in my direction before stepping forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I saw you taken, Soren. So unless you have somehow escaped Azrael's grasp, I would say it is fair to say we have our doubts," he adds, gesturing Soren up and down.
There is a wariness, caution, about the gesture that makes me believe Kal too has his doubts about the integrity of the whole thing, but he doesn't make any moves yet. After all, Soren has already proven him wildly wrong a first time.
Sighing, Soren shakes his head, amber eyes glowing.
"You misunderstand me," he urges, holding my hands in his with such an energetic fervour that is hard not to believe him.
"Azrael still has me, but only a part of me. I have remained here for several hundred years. But Azrael has my corporeal form, right through that door where he plans to split my soul from my body in about...." he stops, as though listening, feeling for something, his gaze retreating back on itself until he adds: "...half an hour," he denotes, pointing to the door behind the throne, locked up with a series silver bolts.
I narrow my eyes at it, my head spinning with question after question until I feel I am going to be sick.
Corporeal form? Part of him?
Absently, my eyes curve upwards, tracing the silver laced perimeter around the room, my heart racing in my chest. Faintly aware of my actions, I realise then and there that the entire length of the walls are coated with it- that silver, shining with a radiance from a dim, red light source that dangles like globules of blood from the ceiling.
This place looks no more like a labyrinth than a prison for vampires.
But right now that is the least of my worries.
"Soren, I don't understand," I cry desperately, wringing out my hands.
"What do you mean by corporeal form..? Is everything I have done with you -him- a lie?" I ask slowly, pulling back to scan over his body, over the span of his black wings and the glistening scales on his forearm that gleam wet with blood. Before I know it, there are tears welling in my eyes, glistening droplets of water on my cheeks.
Gently sniffling, I prod his arm, his chest, testing the warmth of his skin under my fingertips, the delicate silkiness of his skin. He certainly seems like Soren- bar a few minor alterations in form. But the way he professes himself makes this Soren seem like he is something else entirely, an alternative segment of him that has remained trapped in this prison of silver for a very, very long time.
I just don't understand.
"Hey," he whispers quietly, leaning down to wipe away the droplets of moisture that have caught on my cheeks with his thumb. "Darling, you have it all wrong, I-"
Before he can finish, Kal cuts him off.
"I know what you are," says Kal, stepping forward slightly, his footfalls wary, his breath sharp, as if quite unsure what to make of this new creature in front of him. Kal circles round to inspect the wings momentarily, before drawing himself back up.
"What is it?" Delina insists, drawing up beside us, her blue skin tinged purple under the red luminescence that dangles above our heads. Kal motions her to be quiet, clearly annoyed at being interrupted.
"You," he says, jabbing a finger in Soren's direction. "Are what our Soren- the corporeal one, put in place to guard his tier of the labyrinth, I mean, he wouldn't just leave an empty room, that would be careless of him. You are... him. Somehow, though I am not sure how," Kal notes, trying his best not to look at Soren's very pale, very naked (save for the jacket I have since thrown over him) body- a fact we seemingly all seemed to dismiss. Noticing this, Soren raises an eyebrow.
"Apologies, am I distracting you, Kal?"
Kal blushes furiously.
"Of course not, I was just-"
Waving a hand dismissively, Soren runs a hand over his body, coating it in a thick black mist which after a few seconds settles against his skin, consolidating into an opaque cotton material that fits his form nicely. Now dressed in a shirt and a pair of long sweeping trousers, Soren brushes himself off, looking remarkably pleased with himself despite everything.
Personally, I liked him better without clothes, but that's not my call to make. And by the sly smirk Soren shoots me, I'd hazard a guess he has realised that too.
"You are indeed correct Kal," Soren admits after that brief interlude, splaying his hands as he gives the dragon boy a proud, fatherly look. "I am, in every way, him."
"So," Delina interrupts slowly from behind us, chewing over her words carefully in an effort to try and make light of the situation. "You aren't like an illusion then? But you are not actually the real Soren, its more like you are under his control?" Positioning herself beside Kal, obviously more comfortable now Soren has been clothed, she surveys his body over.
"No," I voice softly, causing Soren to lower his eyes at me, amber orbs glowing with a fiery compassion. Gently I lace my hand with his, causing a little shock to run over my skin, electrifying my senses. I recall the throb of my heart that had lead me down here, the tug and pull that persisted under my skin, dragging me deeper into the labyrinth inch by inch. I recall how it felt to touch him, the way I shivered when our skin made contact, as if every part of my body had been set alight with a heavenly flame.
This is no illusion, no shadowy façade. This is him, or at least, a part of him.
Suddenly all at once, everything clicks together.
The wings. The darkness that lurks like a plague under his skin. The way his body swirls with a strange ethereality that is not his own...
"You are his soul, or the soul. The soul of hell," I whisper breathlessly, my voice barely heard even in the hush of the room. Gently I take one of his blackened hands in my own, marvelling over the beauty of his skin, and the inhuman qualities of his being. The wings, the scales, the golden eyes, even down to the two sets of horns Soren boasts.
Soren has the soul of hell, the soul of a demon, a monster, the governor of sin and wrongdoing, the punisher of evil- and this form encapsulates exactly that.
Slowly, Soren nods, lacing his hand with mine.
"You are half right, my dove. My corporeal form- the one Azrael has currently, could not survive without a soul, so instead, I split a part of my soul off- only temporarily, to remain here and guard the flame. I am that fragment of his soul- I share his every thought, his memories, his experiences. I am him, and he is me. We are one and the same. There is no this Soren, or that, but only one. Though I had hoped you would never seem me like this," he says, lifting his hands to survey the markings that befall them, the black swirls and patterns that etch into his skin like war wounds. Soren sighs.
"Perhaps some day soon I shall be able to return to my body and be whole once more, perhaps even today," he muses, his hands tightening over my own, thumb caressing my skin lovingly.
A certain awestricken horror settles over the room as we mull over this revelation, lulling us all into silence. The only sounds are the steady dripping of a watery substance, and my heavy breaths as I press myself up against Soren, breathing in the sweet smell of roses, fresh and sweet. Bringing his free hand up to rest behind my head, Soren runs his fingers through my hair, stroking it reassuringly.
It seems just as I begin to think Soren can surprise me no more, that he has pulled out every trick in the book, there is always something else that catches me off guard, another twist that makes him all the more amazing. I can never cease to be astounded.
Soren split his soul to guard the flame. So if I have only witnessed Soren with part of his power, what kind of devastation will he leave upon the world when his corporeal form and remaining soul are restored?
Soren does not answer immediately, instead, he places his hand against my cheek, cupping my face as he holds me gently to him, as though disdaining to let himself be pulled away. But his silence only serves to invoke a further confusion, so as I furrow my brows, pulling back, I search him, scanning his eyes for answers, but finding none.I almost can't bear to look over him, to see the leathery wings upon his back, the curious darkness that seeps under his skin, down towards the tips of his fingers, thinking as though perhaps all this, after all this time, might not be so real after all. So I ask once more, unsatisfied by the silence."But Azrael had you- didn't he? I saw you be taken by him up in the palace. None of this makes any sense, Soren. How can you be you, actually you, when you are currently being held captive by Azrael! You were bound in silver chains for hells sake!""It's true," Kal whispers lowly, shooting an apologetic smile in my direction before stepping forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I saw you taken, Soren. So unless you have somehow escaped Azrael's grasp, I would say it is fair to say we have our doubts," he adds, gesturing Soren up and down.There is a wariness, caution, about the gesture that makes me believe Kal too has his doubts about the integrity of the whole thing, but he doesn't make any moves yet. After all, Soren has already proven him wildly wrong a first time.Sighing, Soren shakes his head, amber eyes glowing. "You misunderstand me," he urges, holding my hands in his with such an energetic fervour that is hard not to believe him."Azrael still has me, but only a part of me. I have remained here for several hundred years. But Azrael has my corporeal form, right through that door where he plans to split my soul from my body in about...." he stops, as though listening, feeling for something, his gaze retreating back on itself until he adds: "...half an hour," he denotes, pointing to the door behind the throne, locked up with a series silver bolts.I narrow my eyes at it, my head spinning with question after question until I feel I am going to be sick.Corporeal form? Part of him?Absently, my eyes curve upwards, tracing the silver laced perimeter around the room, my heart racing in my chest. Faintly aware of my actions, I realise then and there that the entire length of the walls are coated with it- that silver, shining with a radiance from a dim, red light source that dangles like globules of blood from the ceiling.This place looks no more like a labyrinth than a prison for vampires.But right now that is the least of my worries."Soren, I don't understand," I cry desperately, wringing out my hands."What do you mean by corporeal form..? Is everything I have done with you -him- a lie?" I ask slowly, pulling back to scan over his body, over the span of his black wings and the glistening scales on his forearm that gleam wet with blood. Before I know it, there are tears welling in my eyes, glistening droplets of water on my cheeks.Gently sniffling, I prod his arm, his chest, testing the warmth of his skin under my fingertips, the delicate silkiness of his skin. He certainly seems like Soren- bar a few minor alterations in form. But the way he professes himself makes this Soren seem like he is something else entirely, an alternative segment of him that has remained trapped in this prison of silver for a very, very long time.I just don't understand."Hey," he whispers quietly, leaning down to wipe away the droplets of moisture that have caught on my cheeks with his thumb. "Darling, you have it all wrong, I-"Before he can finish, Kal cuts him off."I know what you are," says Kal, stepping forward slightly, his footfalls wary, his breath sharp, as if quite unsure what to make of this new creature in front of him. Kal circles round to inspect the wings momentarily, before drawing himself back up."What is it?" Delina insists, drawing up beside us, her blue skin tinged purple under the red luminescence that dangles above our heads. Kal motions her to be quiet, clearly annoyed at being interrupted."You," he says, jabbing a finger in Soren's direction. "Are what our Soren- the corporeal one, put in place to guard his tier of the labyrinth, I mean, he wouldn't just leave an empty room, that would be careless of him. You are... him. Somehow, though I am not sure how," Kal notes, trying his best not to look at Soren's very pale, very naked save for the jacket I have since thrown over him body- a fact we seemingly all seemed to dismiss. Noticing this, Soren raises an eyebrow."Apologies, am I distracting you, Kal?"Kal blushes furiously. "Of course not, I was just-"Waving a hand dismissively, Soren runs a hand over his body, coating it in a thick black mist which after a few seconds settles against his skin, consolidating into an opaque cotton material that fits his form nicely. Now dressed in a shirt and a pair of long sweeping trousers, Soren brushes himself off, looking remarkably pleased with himself despite everything.Personally, I liked him better without clothes, but that's not my call to make. And by the sly smirk Soren shoots me, I'd hazard a guess he has realised that too."You are indeed correct Kal," Soren admits after that brief interlude, splaying his hands as he gives the dragon boy a proud, fatherly look. "I am, in every way, him.""So," Delina interrupts slowly from behind us, chewing over her words carefully in an effort to try and make light of the situation. "You aren't like an illusion then? But you are not actually the real Soren, its more like you are under his control?" Positioning herself beside Kal, obviously more comfortable now Soren has been clothed, she surveys his body over."No," I voice softly, causing Soren to lower his eyes at me, amber orbs glowing with a fiery compassion. Gently I lace my hand with his, causing a little shock to run over my skin, electrifying my senses. I recall the throb of my heart that had lead me down here, the tug and pull that persisted under my skin, dragging me deeper into the labyrinth inch by inch. I recall how it felt to touch him, the way I shivered when our skin made contact, as if every part of my body had been set alight with a heavenly flame. This is no illusion, no shadowy faade. This is him, or at least, a part of him.Suddenly all at once, everything clicks together.The wings. The darkness that lurks like a plague under his skin. The way his body swirls with a strange ethereality that is not his own..."You are his soul, or the soul. The soul of hell," I whisper breathlessly, my voice barely heard even in the hush of the room. Gently I take one of his blackened hands in my own, marvelling over the beauty of his skin, and the inhuman qualities of his being. The wings, the scales, the golden eyes, even down to the two sets of horns Soren boasts. Soren has the soul of hell, the soul of a demon, a monster, the governor of sin and wrongdoing, the punisher of evil- and this form encapsulates exactly that. Slowly, Soren nods, lacing his hand with mine."You are half right, my dove. My corporeal form- the one Azrael has currently, could not survive without a soul, so instead, I split a part of my soul off- only temporarily, to remain here and guard the flame. I am that fragment of his soul- I share his every thought, his memories, his experiences. I am him, and he is me. We are one and the same. There is no this Soren, or that, but only one. Though I had hoped you would never seem me like this," he says, lifting his hands to survey the markings that befall them, the black swirls and patterns that etch into his skin like war wounds. Soren sighs."Perhaps some day soon I shall be able to return to my body and be whole once more, perhaps even today," he muses, his hands tightening over my own, thumb caressing my skin lovingly. A certain awestricken horror settles over the room as we mull over this revelation, lulling us all into silence. The only sounds are the steady dripping of a watery substance, and my heavy breaths as I press myself up against Soren, breathing in the sweet smell of roses, fresh and sweet. Bringing his free hand up to rest behind my head, Soren runs his fingers through my hair, stroking it reassuringly. It seems just as I begin to think Soren can surprise me no more, that he has pulled out every trick in the book, there is always something else that catches me off guard, another twist that makes him all the more amazing. I can never cease to be astounded.Soren split his soul to guard the flame. So if I have only witnessed Soren with part of his power, what kind of devastation will he leave upon the world when his corporeal form and remaining soul are restored?
