Page 44 of Bred By Sor'en

It’s the death sight thing.

I’d nearly asked them if they could see mine, but when the thought made sick creep up in my throat, I decided against it.

I scratch my belly underneath my clothes, heaving a sigh that doesn’t even budge the jerkish male fast asleep beside me. I have half a mind to pinch him awake.

Maybe I could get a tincture for itching.

I’m always itchy lately.

I frown at the rounded ceiling a little longer before slipping out of bed. Not too unusual for me, considering Xyreliths have terrible hearing, and it's nothing to slip out for a little while he rests. Mostly thanks to the itching. Oh, and trying and failing over and over to balance my anger at whatever he's keeping from me with the lies and the pungently apparent fact that I have no foot to stand on when it comes to them.

My mother's tooth still hangs around my neck, waiting to be placed to rest. Her soul has lingered unsettled for too long already. That I’m almost out of time to make any of this right. There’s a time limit on the suffering of a soul, and I think I can feel the barrel of that metaphorical blaster again.

The front door parts and each step feels heavier than it has in a while. My chest is heavier, too, as I reach up and scratch it. I’m walking numbly without any real purpose, and I’m not at all surprised when I reach the edge of the closet field, plopping myself down on my back in the long, soft grass to stare up at the odd greenish stars in the colorful sky. I think that’s my favorite part of Silloria, the vibrant hues of twisting twilight overhead that decorate the sky at night when the atmosphere is just right. My eyes catch on an odd, glimmering ripple in the dome.

A gigantic shadow obscures my sight less than a blink later, and I stare back at him. I mean to glare, but I don’t manage it.

“It’s weird that I spent my entire life fighting to get planetside, hating the stars, only for my favorite part of the planet I live on to be the sky.”

Melion warbles sympathetically. Quickly coming to hover longways in the grass beside me as if he just wants to kick back too.

A tear drips down my face before I realize I’m even crying. “I promised my mom I’d get her to Lunareth, Melion. I swore it to her. It's been the only reason I’ve woken up and bothered to stay alive since she died. And now the last thing I want to see is fucking Lunareth.” I sniffle, hoping Melion doesn’t count as telling someone, but knowing I breathe just a little easier after saying it out loud.

A warm brush of air slips over me like a hug as a dark tendril prods at my wet cheek in offering. I laugh, but it's mostly a sob. “I’m too scared, Melion. What if something goes wrong and I’m lost like her? What if I never find my way home?”

Melion shoots to his upright form, his purple cracks becoming violent. Angry. Possessive, as he blocks the soft scraping footsteps from my line of sight as I sit up in the grass. Fear strikes me for a mere second before I recognize the voice on the other side of my shadow guard.

“It is unwise, star child, to be out here alone on a night like tonight,” Jin’rayal offers smoothly, unbothered as usual.

“It’s okay, Melion,” I offer, lying back again as another ripple hits the dome.

I don’t see Melion move as much as I feel a warm brush over my stomach tickling me, making it itch more before he slips into the field where he’ll no doubt stay close. I wipe my eyes making the backs of my hands slick.

“You are sad tonight,” the older man offers, groaning as he comes to sit beside me.

“You are up past your bedtime.”

He scoffs at that.

Jin’rayal and I have gotten close, I suppose, well, as close as either of us is to anyone, that is. I adore all my friends here, but perhaps this craggy old man the most of all. He’s quiet, I mean, everyone here is but in a way that makes thoughts less loud. He teaches me things too, and it's nice to have something to keep the thoughts away. Until recently, he was an alchemist. He’s worked closely with the botanists for longer than I can even conceptualize.

Another ripple hits the dome, harder this time. The pretty colors blink out for a moment like a faulty data pad. “What was that?” I whisper before repeating it louder.

“Those seeking what is not theirs to take,” he growls, glaring up at the dome.

Poachers.

A frigid chill slips down my spine. “Why?”

“That question is beneath us both,” he responds curtly. “You know why.”

I frown. “The toxins, but what do theydo… to them?”

He simply stares at me.

I huff. “Nobody else will talk about it either. Anything even remotely informative is toounbalanced.”

He seems to consider that for a moment; his attention pulled toward something I can’t see deep in the field. I stare harder, trying to see it too, goosebumps suddenly erupting along my arms. I’m busy freaking myself out when he finally speaks, so naturally, I jump as if I’ve just been electrocuted. Which he thankfully ignores. “They force them toexcrete. Force them into pleasure for drugs more powerful than anything in the galaxy. Force them into fear for weapons strong enough to end it. It has become ourpurposeto simply prevent a catastrophe while the universe paints us as those who want nothing more.”