The Ossuary: Soul and Bone

Chapter 9

Ingrid had so many questions. They were back in Ciaran’s room. His room smelled of him, like earth and smoke. What she imagined an eternal fire burning in the woods would smell like. Ingrid sat curled up in a large velvet chair by the fire. Ciaran stood by the mantle watching her intently.

“So, what about my mother? Is she here in the realm of darkness?”

“We are in the shadow realm,” he corrected with a smirk, “and there are many facets of this realm, but yes I believe her to be here somewhere.”

“...and we are in Mor?”, she asked.

“Yes, Mor is home to all Withers.”

"What is a Wither?”, Ingrid wondered aloud.

“That is a complicated question,” he retorted. When a human dies, there are many things that can happen to a soul. For some, they are reborn, to relive life’s lessons, teach others, or perhaps learn something new. For others they are punished for their sins.”

“Are we being…punished?” she asked.

“No," he chuckeld, "we are somewhere in between."

Ingrid pondered this for a moment.

Ciaran continued, "Withers are beings that have suffered through some sort of traumatic events in life… and so we served to guide those dying in death.”

“So we are like the reapers of death?”

“In a way,” he answered.“ "Whispers speak of a time where many different kinds of Withers exsisted."

Ingrid wondered what the duties of those other Withers could have been.

"However now there remains only one kind. The Hollow Wither. That is what we are. We do not choose who dies. We are only there to act as guides, as we share a deeper understanding of pain.”

“So what about me? Why didn’t you guide me?” Ingrid posed.

Ciaran laughed under his breath. “I tried,” he said. “But you ran from me”.

“What was I supposed to do?” Ingrid shouted with exasperation. "You were trying to kill me!"

“I don’t know,” he said shaking his head. “No one has ever been able to see me like that before. Something about you is… different.”

The words seemed to reverberate in the air.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You are just... different,” he reiterated.

Ingrid rubbed at her arm absently, fighting off a hollow feeling in her stomach.

“I was taken aback when I realized you could see me that first time. Then I realized you could more than see me. You could hear me… feel me…” he trailed off.

“So this is not normal?” Ingrid gestured around her.

“No! None of this is normal,” he said as he started to pace the room. “And now… now the council has demanded I mentor you.”

Ciaran ruffled his hand through his dark hair. “I didn’t tell them what happened. That you could see me

That something made you pass out."

Ingrid breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't realizr she had been holding her breath, but suddenly knowing that she wouldn't be ostracized in death made her feel better. At least for now

"...and a Wither's determination takes place just prior to death, so you were already fated to become a Wither, and consequently paired with me," he continued.

Ciaran stopped pacing and turned toward Ingrid.

“But this… attraction we seem to have…” he trailed off again and turned back to look out the window.

“Ciaran…” Ingrid started.

“This attraction... it cannot be,” he said firmly, as if trying to convince himself.

Ingrid swallowed hard. Why were her eyes tearing up? Afterall she hardly knew him. Why was she sad at the potential for losing him?

“It is against everything we stand for. Withers are not meant to have worldly connections. They are seen as a weakness.”

Ingrid could see the pain on his face, the torment behind his eyes. She didn't have ti be a mi d reader to know he was at war with himself. Ciaran turned around once more and paced across the room calling for Ian.

"There are things I must take care of. Ian will show you to your room.”

He started to walk away, and just like that Ciaran was gone like a shadow moving across the wall.