“You must heal,” his guide said as if it was the easiest thing to do.
“I don’t feel broken,” Flazie said. He closed his eyes and tried to remember her as she was on that last day. Chipper and excited about creating a degree plan. Rattling off all the ways her education could contribute to his work.
“Here,” the guide extend a long, smooth finger and pointed to his chest. Flazie looked down to find a black web of cracks radiating from his stomach.
“What is this!” he exclaimed, trying to brush the marks away.
“Potential for what?’ Flazie touched his stomach and the memory of gun fire flickered across his mind.
“Your experiences have planted a seed,” the guide tapped the center of his web. “You can evolve to a new form and a new soul group, if you wish.”
“No,” Flazie shook his head. “I don’t want to leave her.
“If you want to return to your former cycle, you must mend your cracks,” the guide said, casually. “If you want to transition to another cycle, release this old form and let the new one take hold.”
“We belong together, “ Flazie growled. He could feel his love dissolving into something darker. It became a slow burning thing that lurked somewhere between longing and possession.
“Are you certain?” the guide asked. “You chose to take her life.”
“I know what I want,” Flazie declared. It would be hard to heal with someone reminding him of his one mistake all the time. “She is mine!”
“Very well,” the guide conceded.