Page 108 of Souls We Rip

I took a deep breath. “That man is the Goat Man. The one you were so afraid of last summer. A man who crossed the threshold of his own curse to get to me, to understand my belief in God. He is the man I love, Mother.”

“Will you marry him?” Angelica asked, raising her eyebrows and smiling.

“One day, yes. Once we’ll be rid of his brother.”

And then I told them what was really happening. I spoke about the Elk and his wish to get his land, and about Eugen and the love I had for that child. I omitted the part about Andrei; I didn’t want to give them a heart attack.

“And what of you?” I turned to Angelica. Her face brightened, and her cheeks turned crimson. “Is your wedding day coming soon?”

She exhaled loudly. “At last, yes. After everything we’ve been through, we deserve a glimmer of happiness. Gavril is waiting for quite some time to whisk me away from home.” Angelica beams at me, her eyes showing me all the love she carries for her betrothed.

“Oh!” my mum exclaimed. “Let me show you her wedding attire.” She ran out of the room as soon as she finished talking. Angelica giggled, a rare sound coming from her.

In a couple of seconds, she returned with an ie and an apron. The blouse had longer, flowing sleeves adorned with golden embroidery. The apron was fully golden and with the same tiny sun pattern as the ie. “These were delivered in the night you left…”

“And I assume it was your betrothed,” Angelica smiled.

“Why is that?” I asked, touching the fabric of the apron.

“He left this.” Angelica walked to her bed and picked up a small paper where only a red waxed seal stood. A goat.

My pulse quickened, and I bit my lip.

Both were gliding with happiness in our old room. Sorrow forgotten, sighs relinquished, tears dried.

It was tradition to have a year of mourning for my father, and we had to convince our mum to keep it this time, otherwise the people in the village might talk. She didn’t care; she was happy that her pain was gone.

She felt liberated not hearing screams the next morning, being able to cook in silence, or at least hearing our chatter. My mum decided that she would cook for the villagers and sell the crops; she wouldn’t have time for them anyway.

Our mum would accept Mara’s husband's proposal to cater to the parish in the neighbouring village.

They both asked me how I feel, and I told them that I was elated. Finally, I had the life that I wanted – a man who loved me, an adopted child who would grow to be an incredible person and a ghost who cared for us in many ways.

I finally found what I have been looking for.

One soul to take.

One soul until our freedom.

One soul until we could build our life together as humans.

When I arrived at the cave, the trees were still heavy under the burden of the snow, their branches inclined to the ground. Here and there, an owl would ask who was walking in the forest. I smiled as I imagined I would sleep that night in the arms of the man that I loved.

How ironic that he would call me inimă, when neither of us possessed one. And still, we felt as if we had it.

When I approached the lair, the horse was waiting for me, its long, braided mane jumping up and down. It would shake its head, steam coming from its snout.

I pressed my hand to its forehead, the wind raising my skirt. “What is it, boy?”

He neighed once, rattling the ground, and I dashed inside the lair, my pulse vibrating in my veins, a dire feeling creeping in my bones.

The stone walls were silent, the floor not trampled by small feet or hooves. There was no noise coming from the kitchen, no delicacies filling the air with their scent. My chamber was void of a small boy sleeping between the blankets, usually a soft snore coming from him.

Tiberius’s room was left in shambles. The Souls’ Mirror was broken, shards everywhere, pinching my feet. I didn’t care about them or the blood they drew; I only cared about the empty room, the cloak left on the floor, and the blood dripped onto the carpet.

Did they die, and could I have saved them?

I fell to my knees, taking his cloak in my hands and pressing it to my nose. Instead of iron, it smelled of ancient paper and wax. Ignoring the tears that were falling from my eyes, I took one larger piece of glass and tapped it.