My writing style has changed…again but I don’t mind. It’s not like I can do anything about it. Well, I can but my story would suffer. I’m really excited to see how this one turns out. Maybe a bit too excited. I need to keep telling myself just becasue I like the detail doesn’t mean it needs to be included. We writers have to sometimes be brutal to our creations.
I still don’t have an end but this will remain a short story. I don’t need yet another novel on my plate. Who knows, maybe down the road this story will turn into a novel, it’s happened before. Enjoy Part 3. Hopefully by next time, I’ll have a title and an ending. For a recap read Part 1 and Part 2.
Contessa cringed, shelving the desire to kill the child for entering her domain and waking her before she was ready.
He reached for her soul. She could’ve stopped him but shortening her name was an offense she wouldn’t let slide. He remained upright longer than expected. He curled on the floor gasping and sputtering, gripping his middle. The fear in is his face was remarkable.
He only gingerly touched her so he wouldn’t die. He just felt like he would.
“Remember this pain child. My soul is coated in a poison. Nothing can touch it without causing harm to themselves.”
She stepped over the whimpering little SoulEater and walked to the kitchen.
Cezon was cooking sausage.
“Did you tell that child to touch my soul?” She leaned on the counter.
“If I wanted him dead, I’d do it myself.”
“He is mixed. Could he be a relative of yours?”
“No, our Class is small. We know everyone.”
Draiors remain the only mixed-class family. Cross-Class communication among SoulEaters didn’t exist until Cezon’s ancestors mated and bore children with the ability to adapt their personalities so they can interact with other Classes on familiar terms.
She ran her fingers through her hair. “So what is he?”
Cezon shurgged then glanced behind her.
“I apologize Contessa for that egregious breech of your personal space.”
She turned to the child and tilted her head. “Beautifully put.”
He was smart enough not to look pleased with himself.
“We will meet your parents today,” she continued.
“No.”
The child put far too much command behind that little word. Cezon frowned. Contessa let her face become a blank mask.
This child was no Draior which made his origins far more troubling. There weren’t many SoulEater to begin with. As a Noble, Contessa was acquainted with everyone in every Class. Cezon was not only a good friend but her personal Liaison.
Someone has fabricated him- grown him somehow by taking the blood of two different Classes.
Is that possible?
Some Classes tried it but were not successful. The SoulEater exhibited traits of the two Classes but could not do what we Draiors do naturally.
Neither can he.
No, but he has potential. It is possible something has experimented on a Draior.
That is not possible.
Okay, no it isn’t. But by rights this child should not exist so the impossible it our only option.
We need to meet his parents.
Yes, we do.
He pulled away and returned to the breakfast.
“May I ask something?”
Contessa and Cezon exchanged glances then looked at the child. Contesssa did not like him being so brazen towards her but she also didn’t like this timid thing.
Cezon grabbed her hand and eased her growing desire to end him.
“Ask away Asamee,” Cezon sang.
The child giggled then stopped when he glanced at Contessa.
“Why do you eat normal food?”
“Because it tastes good,” Cezon answered, “How long have you known what you are?”
He balked and looked at his feet.
“Cezon asked you a question, look him in the eyes.”
He did so without hesitation.
“I do not remember anything past two days ago.”
“But you know your parents.”
“I do.”
“What do they say about your memory loss?”
“I had an accident. I fell out of a tree and hurt my head pretty bad.”
They lied to him. Contessa looked into his soul and saw his parents explaining his memory loss to him.
She cringed but decided not to beat him for spitting on her name.
“You have not yet earned the respect of being called anything but child.”
He frowned. “But Cezon calls me by my name.”
“The Drariors are a Class of their own and make their own rules.”
Cezon chuckled at the child’s confusion. “Don’t worry, Contessa called me boy for a year.”
“But my name is not child, it is Asamee and I wish to be called such.”
“You can wish all you want, it is not going to happen.”
He scrunched his face and placed his little hands on his little waist. Contessa was ready to rip him apart.
Cezon stepped between them.
“Do not diminish my father’s strength. He did not break his neck, father squeezed it until it caved.”
