“You think? You are not certain?”
Vale thought back to the absolute lack of response he kept receiving whenever he asked his void a question. “I cannot commune with my void like I used to. I try, but it is muffled.”
Slate hummed. He did not look overly concerned, but Slate had never had as much communion with his void as Vale. Secretly, Vale thought it was because his older brother did not care for it as much as Vale did. The wilderness void required constant effort. Not like the wanderer’s void, which looked almost identical whether Slate slept through the centuries or guided his wanderers out. Until his wife appeared, at least. She brought changes that Vale did not think were possible.
“You have been too busy since the light-motes died,” Slate said. “You have lost the joy. As I lost it once. Perhaps this is your void’s way of helping you find it again.”
Vale stared at him, baffled. Surely, he could not be suggesting what Vale thought he was suggesting.
“Helping me find myjoy,” Vale repeated, waiting for Slate to correct him. “Through themortal?”
Slate did not correct him. He only focused on something behind him, his lips spreading in a deep smile that could only mean one thing.
“Brother-in-law,” cried Ruby as she came up behind Vale, tweaking his tail as she passed by him and wrapped her arm around her husband’s waist. “How’s your mortal? Have you visited Anderfel yet?”
“No,” Vale snapped, taken aback by the tail-tweaking. Before the mortal, he had barely touched anyone in centuries. He cleared his throat, attempting to rein himself in. “You are sureour Anderfel brother would not know how to cure my void? If he is as adept at magic as you say, he could have some advice.”
“I do not think he knows much about voids,” said Slate thoughtfully. “Then again, he is a mystery to me. Anytime I try to ask about his past, I am rebuffed.”
“But hecanhelp with the size problem,” Ruby added unnecessarily, as if Vale had already forgotten about their prior conversation.
Then again, Vale had not encountered the size problem during their prior conversation. He shifted uncomfortably, his head full of memories—of how tight she had felt around him. How he had not been able to fit even half of his cock inside. How fervently she had begged for more, even when it was impossible. There was a good chance the pollen had not worked free of her blood, especially if the void had a say in it. He would probably be called upon to help her through it again.
“I will think about it,” Vale said grudgingly.
Ruby beamed, her hair glowing with god-light. “And he can extend her lifespan!”
Vale snorted. That would be a serious binding ritual, tying the two of them together for eternity. He would not do that lightly.
“If she proves to be a helpful assistant, I will consider it,” Vale said.
Weariness washed over him then, so powerful he staggered.
Slate caught him, his claws retracting as he dug his fingers into Vale’s thick skin. “Brother?”
“It is nothing.” Vale shook him off, straightening his robes. “My void weakens. I will fix it.”
“This isn’t just your void,” Ruby said, her eyes flashing white. “When was the last time you rested?”
Vale could not answer. He rubbed his skull mask, the bone smooth and comforting against his claws.
“Go home,” Slate said. “Sleep. You will feel better when you wake.”
“But—”
Slate spoke over him. “It will not cure your void. But you must keep yourself well so you can do that yourself.”
Vale held back an insolent remark. He used to think Slate was difficult to talk to when he slept the centuries away and snapped at Vale for waking him up. But somehow this relaxed, contented version of his older brother was more irritating.
“Thank you,” Vale said, not feeling thankful in the least. “You have given me much to think about. I will go now.”
He closed his eyes and focused on his void. As it pulled him back into the silver pool, he heard Ruby call after him:
“Do let us know how everything goes!”
Vale emerged from the silver pool in the wilderness void, annoyed and exhausted. They were treating this like an amusing story. His void wassick. If it got much worse, it would die, and Vale would die with it.Thenwhere would they get the stories they found so entertaining?
Vale climbed out of the silver pool, his robes bone-dry. The crack embedded next to the pool had, predictably, gotten worse. Not much worse, only a small fracture bleeding out from the others. If he placed his clawed foot on top of it, the cracks were barely visible.
