B5 Chapter 49 – The Nature of Souls

The Soul Eater was heavily mangled, but even so, Tyron was able to piece together just what it had looked like in… life, and it was a disturbing picture indeed. Grey-skinned, hunched, with a distended, toothless void of a mouth and hollow, black eyes, it was more horrific than any kin he had ever seen.

What’s more, he had no idea how to extract the souls from its gut, so he did the next best thing. Butcher knife in hand, he carved its stomach out of the remains before having his minions dispose of the corpse.

Except for the bones. He wanted the bones.

Back in his tent, Tyron placed the cleansed stomach on his desk and got to work. With nothing better to do, Dove accompanied him.

“This has to be the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen you do. And I’ve seen you do some truly horrendous shit,” the undead Summoner remarked.

“It’s not that bad,” Tyron said as he used his various enchanted implements to study the sack of grey meat on the table in front of him.

It was saturated with Death Magick, as everything in the Realm was, with the possible exception of Tyron himself, but it was the nature of the souls within that was truly fascinating. He ran test after test, looking at the stomach from various angles, using magickal lenses, casting spells and creating ritual circles on the fly.

“Tyron, it’s a stomach filled with souls, and you’re looking at it like a child looks at a new toy. Or a grown man looks at a bare breast. It’s not natural.”

“Are you really comparing the value of something like this to a boob?” the Necromancer said, disbelieving. “This has incredible magickal properties.”

“No, lad,” Dove sighed wistfully. A woman’s chest is far more magical.”

“I’m convinced you were insane long before you died.”

“My teammates would likely agree with you.”

Tyron could remember them. They’d taken him on his first ever venture into the broken lands. Rogil, Aryll and Monica. All dead now.

“They were good people,” he said softly.

“Some of the best I ever met,” Dove agreed. “I was a royal pain in their backsides. By the munificent mounds of the goddess, I wish they were still alive.”

“What are you trying to steal from behind my back, Dove? I know you don’t get sentimental unless there’s theft involved.”

“Wh-what? How dare you besmirch the memory of my former teammates in this way?!”

“Dove, if I turn around and see you holding something you shouldn’t be, I will inter your soul into my left sock.”

Tyron heard something being gently put back in place.

“I resent the accusation, kid. It’s outrageous.”

Without lifting his head, Tyron raised a hand and pointed to the corner of the tent to his left. He clicked his fingers a few times until Dove finally groaned and moved into position, standing with his arms folded within the younger man’s line of sight.

“Happy?” he said.

“Very.”

The skeleton grumbled to himself a little, kicking at the floor and making subtle rude gestures in Tyron’s direction until boredom won out and he spoke again.

“Have you actually learned anything from that damned thing yet? You must have cast a dozen spells on it by now.”

Tyron had, in fact, learned a lot from it. His head was starting to buzz, the fugue state that had hung over him earlier beginning to blow away as his thoughts picked up speed.

“This thing is… it’s incredible,” Tyron remarked enthusiastically, his hands never slowing as he moved from one test to the next.

“It’s a Soul Eater stomach,” Dove shuddered. “I can’t imagine what goes on in there. Is it… digesting them or… do they just suffer?”

“You seem especially adverse to these creatures, Dove. Have you encountered them before?”

“Malasin threatened to feed me to one if I didn’t stop insinuating he had a tiny dick.”

Tyron sat up straight and turned towards the skeleton.

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“How did you get out of its stomach?” he asked, fascinated.

“You didn’t even consider the possibility I kept my mouth shut?” Dove exclaimed.

The Necromancer merely snorted, causing his former teacher to glare at him.