Budding from the man’s back, emerald arms clawed themselves from his woven fabric shirt. Like a butterfly spreading its wings for the first time, the arms split, unfolding into wispy swirls before waning into fabric themselves. Fingers, each fidgeting like they were forcing their bones to realign, thrashing in mortal pain, broken and misshapen, the bounds of fabric contorting them.

Soon they laid flat, yet were forced to part to make way for spasming heads and convulsing faces. Souls, each lost in an eternal struggle with death, bid by their master’s call, draping themselves like a simple cloak across his shoulders.

He was standing by now, piercing jade eyes staring down at Leland from the top step. Vibrations rippled across the window into an oblivion, highlighting the never ending assault of lost souls upon the man’s back. Muted and torn, the screams of the souls were drowned away by the silence the man had command over.

“Why have you come?” the man asked, his voice carrying over the desolate ruin.

Leland, now recognizing the man for who he was, bowed to the Lord of Souls. “Thank you for accepting my petition—”

“Why have you come?”

Stiffening, Leland didn’t let the repeated question deter him. He was here for answers and had better places to be. He removed his shirt, noticing the Soul Lord didn’t cease his undisguised glare even at the notice of undress.

He turned around, showing off his back. And while Leland could no longer see the man, a sharp whisper brushed against his unprotected skin. He shivered, counting to five before turning back round.

“Stop,” the Lord of Souls commanded, and Leland did.

The man was one step away, and from what little glance Leland took, the man was inspecting Lodestar’s new tattoo. A metallic coldness radiated from the man, along with a fuzzy itching sensation. Leland had no doubts that the coldness was not so much actually cold but just more soul damage.

Forcing him to turn around, the Lord of Souls yanked Leland around, saying, “When did you steal this?”

“Steal?” Leland was able to question before his mind caught up to him.

He took the man in, noting nothing real about him. What he thought was skin was actually faded fabric, bandaged around his head and neck. Hair was nothing more than dust and thread. Not even his jade eyes were real, they were just two orbs of twinkling magic, each overcharged with mana and power. The only real part of the man were the bones that extended from the bandages covering his hands and fingers.

The very fingers that were gripped around Leland’s arm like a starving snake.

“Think carefully,” the man said, his voice hauntingly short and quiet. “Where did you steal this?”

As Leland sputtered to recall how he came to possess Lodestar, the Lord of Souls looked off to the left.

“Was this you?” he asked, interrupting Leland’s valiant attempt at explaining his innocence.

Leland looked off to the side, finding nothing but broken bricks and grim buildings.

A beat passed before the Soul Lord released his hand. Like they were responding to the man’s ire, the souls wrapped around his shoulders became unhinged. They fought and clawed at each other, their green misty bodies tearing into each other like a pack of rabid dogs turning on themselves. The man festered in the chaos for a long stunted moment before growling.

The souls stopped, beaten down by nothing more than the threat of action.

It was then Leland felt pain. The smell of soul damage was something he felt he could grow used to, but the pain radiating from his arm was not. Five impact marks had already bruised into his skin, one for each of the Soul Lord’s boney fingers.

He squirmed, forcing himself not to tear up in front of the Lord. His legs were buckled and his spine gaunt, but he forced, truly forced, himself not to crumble. Instead he focused on something more surprising than pain. That a Lord hurt him. That wasn’t supposed to happen, not with how visiting a Lord’s domain was explained to him.

A bit miffed, actually, Leland's patience waned. Why was he trying to be respectful and endure the pain? He had already been accused of stealing. If anything the Lord of Souls was being rude.

Taking a step back and summoning his grimoire, Leland pressed his palm into the open pages with practiced effort. With his free hand he tapped his chest, the power of the Lord of Nature instantly cutting the brunt of the soul damage. The pain still lingered, however, gnawing, chilling pain.

“Accuse me of stealing then hurt me,” Leland said, his voice coming out gnarled.

The Lord of Souls shifted his eyes over, the two orbs of magic showing no signs of attitude other than raw authority. “Mmm,” he groaned before thrusting his arm out to his side.

Green sprouted from the ground, a tree made of souls under his open palm. The mist faded away, revealing a thick rimmed compass. It hovered up, the man snatching it before twisting the device in circles.

Leland couldn’t see the needle, but from the Soul Lord’s grunts, he assumed it was pointing at him… or rather, Lodestar.

“Was this you?” he asked the open air again. He waited, the silence nipping like a feasting spider. “Calamity, answer me.”

Leland looked over as well. “She’s not going to answer you. Why would she? You accuse me, then hurt me. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was plotting your demise.”

Why he said it, he didn’t know. Only that he felt it needed to be said. Mortal or not, Lord or not, some people just didn’t deserve manners.

“And if she was, why wouldn’t I just kill you now and save myself an enemy?”

Leland didn’t take the bait. Instead he answered, “Because she would make sure your remaining time in this realm was as painful as possible. She’d probably even keep you alive for much longer than she usually would just to spite you.”

The Soul Lord hummed.

Feeling like he needed to add one last thing, Leland said, “She killed the Toy Maker, you know. Presented his soul to me for getting in my way. I wonder what yours would look like.”

He was stretching the truth a bit, but still.

The Lord of Souls did not look impressed nor displeased. “Why have you come?” he asked, shifting topics.

Leland breathed a sigh of relief. “I was told you had a tale to tell me about Lodestar. You created it or something.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I was expecting a bit more of an answer than a hum.” He tapped his chest again, healing himself again. “Let’s start over, shall we? Hi, my name is Leland. Lodestar evolved recently then started talking to me, verbally. My parents were quite freaked out.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Of course it spoke. Why do you think it was locked away?”

Leland snapped. “See, I didn’t know it was locked away. I received it as a reward from a dungeon just like how most parasitic items are found.”

“It is not a parasitic item.”

“That’s what the Cur— Calamity said. She said you would explain, since it was your creation.”

Deliberating for a moment, the Soul Lord sat down on the bottom most step. Leland put his shirt back on.

“Lodestar was supposed to guide souls to me.”

After a pause, Leland said, “Obviously that didn’t work.”

“It was supposed to be my partner. But the curse of knowledge evolved its ego.”

“Like a parasitic weapon.”

“No. Like a human.”

Leland recoiled at the answer. “Uh huh. What does that mean exactly?”

“Do you know how ego items are made?” the Lord of Souls asked.

“No.”

“With the soul of a human, or a powerful enough monster.”

While surprising, it wasn’t too surprising. It wouldn’t have been Leland’s first guess, but it was in his top five. Knowing that a monster’s soul could be used was interesting, however.

“A human soul trapped within a weapon or item. No wonder they want to take control over their host’s body,” he said, mainly just to get the ball rolling on the conversation.

“But when a soul wishes to be a weapon or item?” the Soul Lord asked, answering right away. “That is when true transcendent weapons or items are created.”

Leland tasted the word, “Transcendent.”

The bandaged man nodded, his glowing eyes dimming for the briefest of seconds. “That was what Lodestar was supposed to be. My partner, my brother.”

“Lodestar has your brother’s soul?”

“Lodestar is my brother.”

Leland ignored the fact that the Soul Lord renamed his brother to “Lodestar,” and instead focused on the “brother” part.

“He wasn’t a Lord. He wasn’t immortal.”

The Soul Lord shook his head. “No he was not.”

“And I take it he had his soul morphed into Lodestar willingly?”

“He did.”

“Then why is he evil?”

Slowly looking up, the Soul Lord said, “He’s not.”

Leland felt as though he was swimming through honey. “Then why was he locked away?”

“Because of the curse of knowledge.”

“What kind of knowledge?”

“The kind that turns brother on brother. Father on son. Mother on daughter!” His voice rose louder and louder, breaking the illusion of silent ruins. “The only knowledge that matters in this world! The ending to our pathetic miserable lives! The end! Oblivion! He learned of oblivion!” He gestured wildly at the portal of darkness at the top of the stairs. “He learned the truth!”

His hand fell down. Dejected, the man whispered, “The truth.”

Leland almost didn’t want to know. A secret that could drive a sane person mad? A secret that cursed all those who knew?

Dauntless.

Well, Leland was a Legacy of Curses, after all. “What truth?”

Then the darkened sky twisted at his words, deepening with rolling clouds. The trail of souls passing overhead bristled, their silent screams briefly piercing the Soul Lord’s silent aura. Leland flinched, his eyes finding nothing but pain and misery.

The Soul Lord spoke, “That obliv—”

“Alright, that is enough.”

It wasn’t Leland who interrupted, but a thick white metal disk with pure darkness inside. Lodestar summoned itself, hovering just off to the side of both its host and brother.

“Brother,” the immortal Lord whispered.

“Brother,” the immortal weapon added.

“You shouldn’t be in mortal hands.”

“And you shouldn’t have grown complacent.”

Leland’s skin crawled as Lodestar’s voice was his own.

The Soul Lord frowned, the emotion conveying through his bandaged face. “Complacent?”

“Indeed. The others mock you behind your back. They speak of you to one another with only contempt.”

That got Leland to speak up. “Don’t fall for it. He’s only trying to rile you up.”

“I wish that were the case, my poor, stupid host.”

Leland rolled his eyes. “Look, this is all very interesting and I’m glad I could reunite you two, but I feel like I should be going.” He locked eyes with the Lord of Souls. “Tell me quickly: Can I used Lodestar or should I lock him up like you apparently did?”

“I—”

“Lock me up? Leland, I thought we were friends. My power is your power, isn’t that right?”

Leland glanced at the slowly rotating ring. “Was that before or after you tried to overpower me?”

Lodestar didn’t answer, instead saying, “Remember when we exterminated that monster nest? Remember the sheer power you felt when you killed every living thing inside?”

“No, no I don’t.”

“Don’t lie to me, boy. I’ve been around much longer than you.”

“Then you would know that me having power for the sake of power is not part of my being. Ask the Calamity about Soul Fire if you don’t believe me.”

The Soul Lord broke from his stupor at that. “Soul Fire? You have the Great Sin? Why were you asking about the curse of knowledge then? Is this a test? Is she testing me again? Have I actually grown complacent?”

Leland sucked on his bottom lip. “Err, I don’t know about any of that…”

“Face it host,” Lodestar said. “Nothing you can say will change my mind. You want power, and I can give it.”

“Yeah, no. I don’t, and I’m not going to try to change your mind. Obviously you are not a transcendent weapon, you are just another parasite.”

Lodestar chuckled. “Oh Leland, you are far from even gazing upon my transcendent form.”

“Uh huh. Can you turn back into a tattoo and shut up? I’m trying to have a conversation here.”

The weapon silently returned to ink.

“Good. That was getting tedious,” Leland said. “Now then. What is oblivion and how will Lodestar try and use its power against me?”

The Soul Lord looked around, his eyes darting to random spots within his domain. “I will answer in detail. Do not worry mortal—”

“She didn’t send me because you are complacent. Please don’t get weirder on me. I have stuff to do and I don’t want to get stuck here all day.”

A silent second passed before the Lord of Souls said, “Oblivion is the end of life. But there is life beyond the end. The essence that makes up a soul lives in oblivion, waiting for matching pieces to come together and reform themselves.”

“Reincarnation,” Leland supplied.

“A concept not well understood, but yes.”

A question formed. “Could… say a person enter oblivion and return with a specific soul?”

The Soul Lord nodded. “Yes, but not in the way you are expecting. Those dead remain dead. At least until you become a Lord yourself and bend the rules of reality to your will.”

“Okay,” Leland said. “Then I’d like to form a contract with you to bring back Annie Red from oblivion.”

“No.”

“Err. Okay.” He paused. “Then I’d like to form a pact with you to bring back Annie Red from oblivion.”

“A pact? Interesting. Still no.”

“Why not?”

“Because those dead should remain dead. The curse of knowledge states that specifically.”

Leland forced himself not to roll his eyes, deciding that he didn’t want to know. “Right. Then how will Lodestar use oblivion to try to gain power over me?”

“The same way he did in life, through corruption.” The Soul Lord looked at the massive replica of the weapon at the top of the stairs. “He will summon beings from beyond to aid your will or use the allure of the darkness to create devastation. A taste of true transcendent power.”

“A taste, huh? So should I fight and use him, or lock him away?”

“Fight and use. You are the Calamity’s only son and Soul Fire has already been passed down. It is only natural for you to hold such a powerful weapon.”

Leland didn’t reply instantly, so the Soul Lord filled the void. “Maybe… perhaps a tool may be of use.”

“A tool?”

“A pact.”

Leland leaned in a bit.

“My cloak,” the Soul Lord said, shedding the green misted fabric of mangled souls, “for as long as you hold my brother, the cloak will be yours.”

“And in return?”

The Lord thought for but a second. “When the time comes and you break his will and mind, you will treat his soul well. Unlike how most hosts treat their parasite when they’ve won.”

Leland was about to ask for clarification, but a shuddering across his back kept his lips sealed. It seemed Lodestar was emotional about such a request. Which emotion? He didn’t know, only that it carried over their symbiosis as distant guilt.