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It was a pleasant evening and the cemetery was deserted. The ruddy light of the setting sun painted the tombstone crimson, the hollows of the carved "Klein Moretti" seemingly filled with dark blood.
Klein's funeral had just taken place that morning. Azik knew he could have attended, should have attended, since the Morettis were aware of their soulmate bond, but he couldn't bring himself to. He had been too ashamed to show his face when it was his fault Klein was dead.
He stared at the grave, the freshly turned earth, and the black and white picture of his smiling student and felt a wave of self-loathing. He should have been there. But it seemed he was forever doomed to be the one left standing after everyone around him died.
Azik had received the letter but, for some unfathomable reason, it was only when he had felt a surge of panic-fear-horror-desperation through the soulmate bond that he had read it. And then it was as if something had been blocking him from reaching Klein's location. The spirit world, usually so easy to traverse through, had turned into a maze, which shouldn't have been possible. What use were all of Azik's powers if he hadn't been able to do something as simple as navigate the spirit world? When the terror-determination had given way to relief-pride-exhaustion, Azik had believed that the worst was over, unconsciously lowering his efforts to travel to Klein.
That had been his mistake and his biggest regret. How naive of him to think the world would be kind to those who rebel against madness, to hope that bright lights won't burn out the fastest.
His fingers traced the faded soulmark at the base of his thumb. He couldn't forget the wave of pain layered with a bone-deep sorrow-grief-regret that had been the last thing he had felt through the bond before numbness. He had known then, what had passed — his proximity to death made sure of that — but had been unwilling to see the proof etched on his skin.
Azik's skin was a patchwork of faded soulmarks layered over each other, an entire menagerie of animals as proof of the lives he had lived and the people he had loved, ones that he remembered and ones that he didn't.
And now Klein's was one of them, the little black cat with a top-hat reduced to a faint grey. He was terrified of forgetting who it belonged to.
The sun had set completely by now, but it didn't matter to Azik. He could still perfectly see each and every delicate flower petal on the bouquets placed in front of the tombstone, his own offering of a single white asphodel among them. This was all he could offer, and wasn't that ridiculous? For all his abilities in the domain of death, Azik still couldn't bring back those who had already passed.
(That was technically untrue, Azik could bring Klein back, raise him from the grave with some semblance of consciousness even, but it won't be Klein, just another undead under his command. For a moment though — just a moment — he was tempted nevertheless. To see Klein's face, to see him smile and talk and ask questions about history and mysticism…
But that's just an indulgent fantasy.)
If only he had read Klein's letter immediately — and why did he not, when usually he did so immediately, even if he answered a little later? — if only he had been faster, if only he had not let down his guard, if only he had reached Klein in time to stop him from feeling that overwhelming pain — pain that no person should ever have to feel, let alone someone like Klein who had always hated pain and had never done anything to deserve it.
If only, if only, if only.
But what use were regrets, in the face of death?
Azik once again looked at the soulmark, Klein's soulmark, and let out a heavy sigh. He couldn't get the last emotions he had felt from his soulmate out of his head. It hurt, losing Klein, but it hurt more knowing Klein had died feeling such potent sorrow and pain. He must have felt so alone, his teammates dead or unconscious, no one to witness his last moments, thinking his soulmate hadn't answered his call. Physical pain usually does not translate through soul bonds, but Klein had had his heart ripped out of his chest brutally. For something like that to transcend the limits of a bond is not surprising.
Just thinking of Klein in his final moments, filled with grief and excruciating pain, made Azik's heart feel heavier than it already was. He should have been there for Klein. His soulmate had needed him and Azik had not been there, had not been able to save him. How ironic, to be so powerful yet so powerless when it mattered most.
But under the grief, under the guilt, regret and self-loathing, was a spark of burning anger. How dare he? First stealing his son's skull, then killing his soulmate in cold blood? How dare that insignificant man take away so much from Azik?
With a last grieving look at the tombstone —'The best elder brother, The best younger brother, The best colleague' — And, Azik silently added, 'The best soulmate' as well — he turned away and stepped into the spirit world.
He might have been too late to save Klein's life and there might be no way to turn the grey soulmark back to black, but there was a way to soothe the fury in his heart.
That man took away what Azik cherished most, his son's rest and his soulmate's life. It is only fair to make him pay for it. It is as Klein says used to say: an equivalent exchange. And, even then, a life for a life is letting him get off easy, considering his two transgressions, but Azik was a generous man. He will merely kill that spineless maggot.
It is said that before going on a journey for revenge one must dig two graves, for it kills who you used to be. Luckily, Azik was used to rising out of graves as a different person.