He walked toward the silver pool that would take him between voids. The trees did not part for him, and he sighed.
He did not look back. But he felt the mortal’s eyes on him until he vanished through the trees.
Slate’s void was lit in a strange color, all orange and red. It took Vale a moment to remember what a sunset was. His void was either night or day, with no in between.
He strode through Slate’s thin, nonresponsive trees, following his older brother’s voice.
“I cannot help you,” Slate was saying.
Another voice joined him, deep and raspy. “But…youhave one.”
Slate chuckled.
Vale emerged through the trees. Slate was standing near his nest, talking to a Skullstalker that Vale had never met before. The Skullstalker was smaller, as many younger Skullstalkers were. He had two protruding fangs on his skull mask that were much larger than his natural fangs, and his eyes were huge, the glowing purple pupils fixed pleadingly on Slate as he stared up at him.
“Can you at least tell me how to get one?” the young Skullstalker begged. “Whenever I try, they run away. Even when I tell them I will not eat them!”
“Yes, they do that,” Slate said dryly. He noticed Vale, giving him a short nod before returning to the stranger. “I cannot help you with this. You have my sympathies, but stop trying to summon me for this.”
With that, he ran a claw down the air between them and ripped a portal into existence. It smelled like the mortal realm, all dirt.
The young Skullstalker grumbled. But he bowed his head.
“Thank you for your time, brother,” he muttered. Then he stepped through the portal, his fluffy tail dragging forlornly on the ground as he vanished through the portal.
Slate closed the portal and sighed, turning to Vale. “You are a much more welcome sight. Hello.”
Vale stepped closer, cautious. Slate had never been so enthused to see his brothers until a few centuries ago, when his wife showed up.
“What did the whelp want?” Vale asked.
Slate laughed, and the noise sounded like rocks scraping together. “A wife.”
“A wife?”
“Or a husband,” Slate said. “He is not picky.”
Vale frowned. “Are you providing them?”
“No. But I have a wife, as does our brother Wick.”
Vale nodded. He had not met Wick before, but he had heard of their brother, who managed to undo the blood frenzy that had been with him since birth. Vale was glad for him. A blood frenzy sounded like it would get in the way of his work.
“But no,” Slate continued. “I am not ‘providing’ wivesorhusbands. If he wants one, he can find one himself. Speaking of wives… what brings you here?”
Vale growled. He did not like what Slate was implying. The mortal was not hiswife. She was barely even an assistant. And she was—as she said—more trouble than she was worth. If he were not so desperate for assistance, he would have given her back to her lying mortals as soon as she got herself sprayed by that heatbloom.
If shegot herselfsprayed, he reminded himself. He had a sneaking suspicion that the void had gone out of its way to do so.
“Vale,” Slate repeated. “What brings you here?”
Vale gnashed his fangs. “I told you it was impossible for a mortal to connect with my void.”
“You did,” Slate said. “Have you changed your mind?”
Vale’s tail lashed. He was so used to being alone nowadays, he did not control his reactions. He would have to stop now that the mortal had arrived. Then again, he so rarely had reactions.His existence had narrowed down to one long day of work, with nothing worth reacting to.
“I think it used the pollen to open her up to it,” Vale said reluctantly. “I think itchoseher.”
