Vale eyed him distrustfully. “It is almost done?”
“Almost,” the Skullstalker said.
With that, he bowed his head and started to chant.
Vale did not recognize the words. But unlike the symbols, these words awakened some strange awareness in him. Like something he had heard when he was very small.
His groin began to tingle. The tingle soon expanded, filling Vale until the tip of his tail vibrated with the spell. Then all at once it was over, leaving Vale shaking and gasping, curling over as his vision tunneled.
The Skullstalker patted his back. “There, there, little brother. You will find no more pesky size problems with your lover. Now, tell me about this other problem.”
Vale braced himself against the cave wall. He did not like this strange Skullstalker touching him like they knew each other, though he forced himself to tolerate it. He was helping, after all.
Vale forced himself to straighten, his legs still trembling and his head spinning. “My void… it has been poisoned. Do you know how to fix it?”
The Skullstalker blinked, surprised. He reached a gaunt hand out to touch Vale’s chest, and Vale gritted his fangs through an unwanted touch from someone he did not know. He would put up with much worse if it meant fixing his void.
“You have a deeper relationship with your void than any of our surviving brothers,” the Skullstalker said, pulling his hand back. “What has your void told you?”
“It tells me nothing! It only urges me to continue my everyday duties, and insists—” Vale stopped, his mind full of images of his mortal offering.
“Insists?” the Skullstalker prompted.
“There is a mortal who… started it all. She did not mean to. But my void insists she can help.”
“If she is the one who started it all,” the Skullstalker began.
Vale growled, talking over him. “But she does not KNOW how she started it! Perhaps she can help. Or perhaps my void is lacking judgment! It is old. Older than me. It did not give me back my light-motes. It imprinted on a mortal the second she entered?—”
“Then push her out.”
Vale faltered. “What?”
“Remove her from your void,” the Skullstalker explained, wiping black oil on the cave wall behind him. “If the void improves, then she is the problem.”
Vale paused. He had the same thought, once. Of course, he had. But…
“The void wouldtellme if she was the problem,” Vale said. “If she were the poison… If she were making us sick, then it wouldforceher out.”
“Would it?” the Skullstalker asked, hobbling over to the shelf and placing the jar of black oil in its place. “You do not sound like you trust its judgment.”
Vale swallowed. He felt guilty in a way he had not felt since the light-motes died, somehow sure that it was his fault. That if he had worked harder, he could have saved them.
“The mortal has a good heart,” he tried. “She is dedicated and hardworking, even if she gets into trouble. She would be good for the void, if it were not sick.”
“I am not saying to banish herforever,” the Skullstalker said, straightening the other jars on the black-splattered shelf. “Just put her out. If the void continues to sicken, you can do what you wish. But if the void improves… well, then. It would be good if you threw her out.”
Vale said nothing. He had wished to banish her, not so long ago. But not after these last weeks. Not after he had seen how hard she worked, how fascinated she was by the plants he used to love so much. Not after tasting her, filling her, curling aroundher in his nest. She looked at him with such surprise whenever he allowed himself to touch her gently. There was a part of him that he did not know existed, a part of him that wanted…
Vale forced the thought away and wiped the remaining black oil off his skull mask.
“Thank you,” he said gruffly. “You have given me much to think about. I will take my leave.”
He turned to leave, only stumbling once before righting himself and walking out of the cave.
The Skullstalker’s quiet voice called after him through the dark. “Come back when it is finished. This sounds like a story I wish to hear more of.”
Ivy was asleep when he returned.
