“They were soulless,” Christina whispered, fully entranced by his story and the magnetic Magian’s deep voice.
“Yes,” Kavya replied with a sad smile. “It is difficult for human beings to conceptualize a soul, but they recognize the absence of it quickly enough. It is what forms flesh, graces it…what makes it conscious. The Magians had long ago become sterile as our planet’s song waned, which only increased our production rate of clones. For thousands of years, the practice continued, until slowly and subtly our culture began to notice something was missing in the clone class. They began to call them the Sevliss, the soulless.
“Our leaders became consumed with the idea of infusing the soul into Magian-formed flesh. They instigated great contests where the Magian alchemists—you humans might consider us scientists and magicians melded—were challenged to do what only gods had done before us—create a soul.”
“Saint told me there are six other Sevliss here on Earth. You and your peers came here for some kind of a contest?” Christina couldn’t decide if her main emotion was fascination, disbelief, or repulsion. How could something as miraculous as Saint be the result of a contest? It was difficult to imagine beings possessing so much power, and yet being so weakened by their own greed that they were on the brink of destroying their own race.
But perhaps the Magian weren’t so di
fferent than how humans might be, sometime in the far, distant future?
Kavya shrugged. “It doesn’t sound very noble when you say it, but what you must realize, Christina, is that we are here fighting for our very existence. Magians live exponentially longer than humans, but until our progeny are soul-infused, my race’s demise looms on the horizon.”
Christina just stared at Kavya’s handsome, regal profile for several seconds before she glanced over at Saint’s preternaturally still figure.
“Have you told Saint these things?”
Kavya glanced at her with polite interest. “Do you think he’d be interested?”
Christina gave a sharp bark of disbelieving laughter. “Uh…yeah, I think he’d be interested. He and the other Sevliss princes wonder and speculate about the Magians. It’s only natural.”
Kavya nodded distractedly. “I am not trying to deprive him of anything, Christina. The formation of a soul is grueling work, and a solitary venture by necessity. It is not information about his origins that will help Saint in the process.”
Her spine stiffened in anger. “How can you stand by and watch him suffer? He’s your son.”
“It’s his suffering that brought him to this point. It hasn’t been easy, but I have done what I must. You call him my son, and I suppose he is. Would you have had me deprive him of the chance for a soul?”
Christina bit her lower lip, scowling as she watched Aidan run in the grass. Something elemental in her protested Kavya’s harsh treatment of Saint, but given the same circumstances, would she do the same for Aidan? Would she have the strength to let him suffer so that he could gain the ultimate prize that a living being could possess?
She exhaled heavily.
“Thank you for not judging me too harshly, Christina.”
She gave the Magian a hard glance. “I won’t argue with you over what’s done. But if forcing Saint to suffer more is in your future plans, forget it. I’m going to make sure he doesn’t.”
Kavya’s sensual lips twitched. “Far be it from me to argue with you.”
“So it’s done then? The experiment is through?” Christina asked hopefully.
Disappointment flooded through her when Kavya shook his head. “Saint doesn’t feel his soul, so what good is it? He denies a part of himself, fights with his dark nature…struggles to vanquish it instead of giving in, and allowing his soul to transform the shadow within. He still has one trial he must face, one more test before he can claim his full identity.”
“Teslar,” Christina whispered through a throat that had suddenly gone dry. Perhaps Kavya sensed her fear and uncertainty, because he turned and met her eyes.
“Teslar and all the princes’ clones were a necessary evil, Christina. Until Saint accepts the dark aspects of his nature that Teslar represents, he will not be able to conquer his clone. He will not win his soul. This is a great secret. One that I’m asking you not to reveal until you judge the moment has come.”
Her brow crinkled in confusion. “I can’t reveal anything when I don’t know what the hell you mean.”
He gave her a kind smile. “I have faith in you. I have no doubt that both you and Saint will do what needs to be done when the time arrives.”
She shook her head, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “I’m just a human, Kavya, a single mom who can’t even afford to buy a car, let alone the home my son deserves. You put too much faith in me.”
“No,” he said simply. Christina started in amazement when Kavya held up his forefinger, his brilliant blue eyes—so like Saint’s—seeming to send a shock of awareness through her. “You carry magic, Christina. You are the sacred crucible in which the transformation can occur. Remember this.”
Christina just stared, her mouth hanging open in astonishment.
Chapter Twenty
Saint crept silently through the grass. A dove trilled softly in the darkness, sending a shiver of anticipation down his spine. Isi never turned toward him as he approached, but Saint knew that the Iniskium warrior sensed him.