Curse of souls, p.1
Curse of Souls, page 1
NIRANJAN
First published by Geetha Krishnan 2024
Copyright © 2024 by Niranjan K
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Editing by Fair Editions
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Twenty Two
Twenty Three
Twenty Four
Twenty Five
Twenty Six
Twenty Seven
PHILIP WOKE UP WITH the remnants of a dream still clinging to him. It was still dark. He couldn’t remember what he had dreamt of, but he was covered in sweat and his heart was racing. Casey was next to him, still naked and asleep, cuddled close to him, an arm slung around him. Philip extricated himself slowly, his throat too dry. He would drink some water and ask the medidroid to look at him later. If he was coming down with something, he didn’t want Casey to get it. Nor did he want to wake his partner at—he glanced at the clock panel display by the bed—3 AM. Besides, he had a meeting at 9. The second round of meetings with Raylan. He had to be in top shape for that.
He went into the bathroom, the lights turning on by themselves. He took a disposable cup and filled some water, but before he could drink, he was overcome with a fit of coughing. The cup fell from his hands on to the floor, splashing water all over. He cursed in between coughs and took a step back.
He found himself drowning; he was in a river, and there were flat stones which shone on the riverbed. A hand caught his, and pulled him up, but before he could see the face of his rescuer, he was back in his bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror, but he could feel the burning in his lungs as if he had truly been drowning. Another fit of the coughs racked him.
What the fuck was happening to him?
Philip straightened, glad for the soundproofing of the bathroom. At least he didn’t wake Casey. He stared at himself in the mirror, his too pale face and the light brown hair plastered on his face. Dark, wide eyes stared back at him, fear in their depths. Sweat had beaded on his face and Philip washed his face and filled another cup of water and drank it, chasing away the mingled taste of earth and river water.
“Medical scan,” he said, and a medidroid appeared. Philip waited while the beam of light it directed travelled over his body.
“No health issues detected,” the droid said in an emotionless voice. “However, the body shows signs of activation of Vanarpin curse.”
For one moment, Philip couldn’t think or move. How was it even possible? He forced himself to swallow the panic bubbling inside him and think. He wished it was Casey, but knew it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. They had been together for thirteen years now. If it was Casey, this wouldn’t have taken this long. He swallowed and filled another cup with water, drinking it, trying to chase away the taste of bile. The water on the floor had pooled around his feet, and the cold seemed to be seeping into his very marrow.
I don’t want this.
Vanarpin was not something very common in their world. It had been around for centuries, but considering how rare the soulmate bond was, it manifested very rarely. Philip tried to recall the vision of drowning. It had been the Nolaine. He was certain of it. Those glowing stones on the bed had magic, though Philip didn’t know of what kind.
How ironic that magic had chosen a magical rock to fuck up Philip’s life!
The magic had felt warm and familiar, as did the hand that had found his. Philip had no doubt it had belonged to his soulmate. Bile rose to his throat again. He might hate it, but he needed to remember all the details if he was to get any clues as to who it could be. He knew enough about the disease to know that the vision was often the most important pointer.
He left the bathroom, feeling worse than ever. Casey was snuggled into the blankets, part of his shoulder visible, and an arm, dark against the white sheets. He felt his chest tighten. How was he going to explain this to him? Philip loved Casey. This unknown soulmate was nothing to him. Yet, if he didn’t find his soulmate and consummated the bond, the curse would kill him.
Philip wanted to scream. It was so unfair! He swallowed the scream building in his throat and slid back under the covers without waking Casey. It helped that his partner was a heavy sleeper. Philip lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He had never looked into Vanarpin, believing he would never get it. In most cases, the bond activated when people were in their early twenties, not late thirties. He thought of the ring in his safe. He had been planning to propose for a while now.
And now this.
In his position, if it became known, Philip might have to let Casey go. Being with another when magic had chosen a soulmate for you was considered downright blasphemous by almost everyone in the world. The bond could not have chosen a worse time to activate. He was in the middle of a war, the only peace in his life within these four walls, with the man at his side. He either had to hide this or let Casey go. If he hid it and someone found out, however, Philip would lose every last bit of credibility he had in the eyes of the men who followed him.
He could feel bitterness coating his mouth. Thirteen years of togetherness was going to mean nothing to anyone except to him and Casey.
How can I let him go?
His own death meant little to Philip. They had been fighting this war for more than fifteen years, and the chances that he wouldn’t come out alive at the other end had always been high. None of them knew what the next day was going to bring. Was it the day a drone would level the building they were in? Was this the day a spell would disintegrate the entire city block? There was no saying. That had become so much a part of their lives that it mattered nothing now.
Death might even be easier. It was certainly more familiar. How many people had he lost over the years? He was used to loss, to pain. They all were. Philip’s death would not make any difference in the grand scheme of things. His life did, however, and that was what made this so difficult. Philip wasn’t foolish enough to think the country would fall apart without him. Yet, he was in the middle of a fucking war that he had not sought, and he couldn’t just drop all his responsibilities and die.
All because he loved Casey and didn’t want to find his fucking soulmate, who had come thirteen years too late into his life.
Would it have made any difference if they had made an appearance before he had met Casey? Philip didn’t know. He didn’t want to think or debate. Finding them was not going to be easy, not with the war going on, not when they could be anywhere in the world. Philip wasn’t exactly certain how the vision of the stones was going to help. Unless one suddenly appeared in his room with a tracking spell on the thing. He wouldn’t put it past magic.
He placed a hand over his chest. It felt no different. Even his breathing was normal now. Was the magic working its way inside, rotting his insides, causing each organ to fail? The damage wasn’t irreversible. Not till it got to the point where even the healing magic inherent in him couldn’t reverse the effects of Vanarpin. It might be a curse, but it was not so simple. It was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it meant magic had chosen someone who was your perfect match. A curse because it was going to kill you if you didn’t find them and consummate the bond.
Stone and water. He huffed in annoyance. Why did the Nolaine have an emotional value to his soulmate? Why did those stones have value? Why couldn’t he have a soulmate who liked flying, for instance? Who liked being up in the air. Flying was good.
I would probably be having visions of feathers in that case.
With his luck, that seemed likely. It was probably what his soulmate had seen. He wasn’t sure which would have been easier. Either way, it wasn’t going to be possible to keep it a secret. As it was, this was going to come out sooner or later. Right now, it was better for him to be open about this.
Control the narrative.
Philip ignored the way his eyes prickled, and throat tightened. His heart felt raw, as if someone had carved up his chest and left it bare. He would get through this. Philip had suffered losses before. He would survive this too.
Philip had to. At least till he got Raylan to sign the peace agreement. Once that had happened, well, then he would be free to live his own life.
Or die, if he so chose.
CASEY WOKE UP TO A COLD bed and a heavy-eyed Philip sitting on the window seat, sipping his coffee.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he queried, sitting up, stifling a yawn.
Philip’s gaze was grave, as was his tone. “We need to talk.”
Casey ignored the way his heart gave a lurch, and the stickiness of fear coating his innards. He had thought the talks with Raylan had gone well. Well enough that Raylan had agreed to another round of talks. Did something happen in the night? Did a message come that Raylan had withdrawn from the negotiations?
“Sounds ominous,” he said, trying for lightness even as his heart hammered against his ribs.
Philip put down his coffee mug and climbed on to the bed. “I love you,” he said, an expression of anguish on his face. “Gods, I love you so much.”
“Hey.” Casey put a hand on his shoulder, not understanding. “What is happening?”
“I have Vanarpin,” Philip said, and a tear trickled down his cheek.
“Oh.” Casey felt like a fool. Was that all he had to say? What was he supposed to say? What was the right thing to say when the man you loved, your partner for thirteen years, suddenly got a deadly disease because of an unfulfilled soulmate bond?
“Casey-” Philip sounded broken, and Casey’s arms reached out, as if they had a life of their own, and he hugged Philip close to him.
“We’ll figure this out.” He heard himself say. Was someone else using his body? Because Casey couldn’t remember making the choice to speak or move. Yet, it was his arms around Philip, his lips on his hair, his voice whispering comfort, his hands rubbing soothing circles on his back.
“I can’t…” Philip whispered now. “I can’t lose you.”
Casey swallowed around the lump in his throat. Philip was the one who was dying, and he might well be dying because of Casey. If Casey knew Philip—and he did, none better—he would put off looking for this unknown soulmate for as long as possible because Philip loved Casey. He would cite the war, his responsibilities, a lot of nonsense, but ultimately all of that would only be a smokescreen.
The question was, could Casey let Philip do that? Was he that selfish that he would rather Philip die than live with someone else?
“We have to find them,” Casey said. “We’ll find them, Philip. It’s going to be okay.”
“It’s really not,” Philip whispered. “I can’t lose you.”
“If you don’t, you’ll die,” Casey said, drawing back so he can look Philip in the eye. “That’s not an acceptable alternative here.”
“Losing you is not an acceptable alternative for me,” Philip said, a determination in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “You know as well as I do that if I announce this to the world, I will have to.”
Casey knew it. Philip was a leader now, and if it was a time of peace, he could simply have stepped aside and let someone else take the helm, but not now when they were at war, when Philip was the one holding most of the others together, when it was his efforts that had brought Raylan to the negotiating table. Stepping aside at this juncture was not an option for Philip.
“So, what, you’ll keep this to yourself and die?” Casey could feel the anger building within him.
“We’re at war. We could die any day.”
“That we’re at war is why you can’t keep this to yourself,” Casey said. “This can’t be hidden, Philip.”
“I know, and I have thought about this. I can’t keep it a secret, but I am not losing you either. As you said, we’re at war. I can convince everyone we have more urgent concerns at the moment.”
“We won’t be at war for long if we can convince Raylan.” Casey pointed out. “Once the war is over, you can be free, Philip. You won’t have to follow anyone’s expectations. You can live your life.”
“It won’t make the Vanarpin go away,” Philip muttered.
“We’ll figure it out,” Casey said firmly. “For my part, I’d rather share you with a million soulmates than have you die, so I can have you all to myself.”
“I can’t be with someone I don’t care for,” Philip muttered. “Casey, this is… I don’t think I’ll be able to do it.”
Casey knew it. Fuck, he knew it, but did they have a choice?
What right have I to push him to do something he hates because I am selfish enough to want him to live?
“We’ll figure it out,” he said again, pulling Philip into his arms again. He would need to do some research into Vanarpin. He would find Philip’s soulmate and they would somehow figure out this entire mess. It was all he could do now.
RAYLAN’S HAND MOVED OVER the smooth surface of the stone. The warmth of its magic comforted him, made him feel safe, closer to everyone he had lost.
Today, of all days, he needed that comfort.
Raylan closed his fist around the small stone as he looked around. There were no signs of what had transpired the previous night. That at least was fortunate. He pushed down the fear that was eating his innards alive as he examined his face in the mirror. Nothing looked amiss. No one would guess that he had been up half the night alternating between visions of falling through the endless skies, a veritable cascade of tiny orange feathers all around him and freaking out. Vanarpin was not how he would have chosen to go out, but it seemed magic had other ideas. Raylan hadn’t thought of the feathers nor researched on the disease after diagnosis.
He remembered Elara’s death, and all that he had learned while they both had searched desperately for her soulmate. He already knew all there was to know about the illness. What most people didn’t know about Vanarpin was that it started after the soulmate bond was activated and not consummated. The bond activated by touch. Even the merest brush of the fingers against your soulmate was enough. That was why Raylan didn’t need to look into anything. Whoever it was might be searching as frantically for them as he and Elara once had. He had no intention of hiding from his own soulmate. It wasn’t as romantic as stories made it out, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t something good.
Raylan had asked the droid if anyone else was diagnosed on the premises. The answer was what had made him realise that nothing, but a painful death awaited him, and possibly his soulmate.
Once we usher in a lasting peace, it won’t matter.
Raylan could tell himself that. He had to. He had seen Philip with Casey. All he could think of was that magic had to be cruel. More than the hopelessness of his situation, he could feel for Philip’s. He tried to shove aside feelings and remain neutral as he tried to remind himself why he was here. The peace talks.
The first round of talks with Philip had gone well, and Raylan could bring himself to believe that they had a common ground. If this round of talks proved the same, they might finally be able to move towards peace. Darren had done enough damage. It was time for him to go and for Raylan to ensure that peace had a chance.
Forcibly, if he must. A few years ago, he wouldn’t have considered a coup, no matter how deranged Darren had been appearing, and how badly things were going for the people of Desrilt. Gedrion had no right to defect, no matter what Philip might say. Raylan had been a loyal soldier, convinced of the righteousness of his cause. Years of war had started changing his mind, but even then, he was not sure what he was supposed to do.
