As he shut his eyes, Leander focused on something else. Something, nigh-imperceptible. A feeling burning within his chest, a sensation that was as a part of him as were his bones, his skin, his heart. Leander searched within himself, feeling for his soul.
The first time Leander had tried to do this, after he had suffered his first defeat from Lewren, knocking him into the pit and plunging into the cold water. It had taken Leander a while to detect his soul. But since then, Leander had regained the ability to enter his Soul Sanctuary, due in part to Melaine repairing his soul.
With the ability to enter his Soul Sanctuary, Leander was able to freely feel his soul with just a thought.
Opening his eyes, Leander looked up at his soul.
Everything was just as it had been the last time Leander ventured into his Soul Sanctuary. His soul – even in its wounded state – blazed with prismatic light, casting out every shadow and flooding the sanctuary with an unyielding, untamed brilliance.
The clouds still drifted aimlessly in every direction, in every orientation. The menagerie of weapons littered these clouds. Dropping to one knee, Leander pulled a weapon closest to him out of the cloud – a small, curved dagger.
"Sword, are you there?"
After a few moments had elapsed, Leander frowned, returning the dagger to where it had been.
"Rest well."
Standing, Leander looked up to his soul. The only thing that had changed was related to his soul; the strings Melaine had left to keep Leander's soul together, as it had restored itself, had disappeared.
Taking a deep breath, focused on the sound of his beating heart as being in his Soul Sanctuary, being the only place his body was alive – for what reason, Leander couldn't make a guess.
His mind turning back to the task at hand, Leander's brow furrowed.
'Melaine didn't tell me anything about this ring, so I assume she knew I would hit this obstacle. How do I channel anima again without rupturing my soul? Without causing my entire being to come apart at the seams.'
Running a hand through his hair, Leander continued to ruminate.
'My soul began to unravel because I tried to use my full power. Think, why couldn't I use my full power?'
Yet, as Leander asked himself the question, the answer wasn't just in front of him. The answer had been within him all this time, since the first moment Melaine had brought him back to this world.
Leander's soul wasn't like any other. It wasn't whole. Half of it was gone, torn from him in a way that felt less like a wound and more like a betrayal. It wasn't a clean cut, nothing so merciful. What remained still burned, a brilliant sun struggling to hold its shape, flickering with stubborn defiance. A small, pale light orbited the sun like a moon, distant and unreachable.
The sight of his soul made Leander's chest tighten, a sharp ache blooming beneath his ribs. He hadn't let himself see it before, not like this. Even when Melaine had had to piece his soul back together, Leander still refused to see the truth.
The truth of it crashed over him now, bitter and suffocating. Leander wasn't just incomplete – he had known his soul was broken, but only now did Leander realise it was more than his soul that was broken. When Leander's soul had been torn apart by the talons of his murderer, his entire being had been broken and Leander had been pretending he wasn't.
Leander shook his head, his throat tight as he forced out a breath that felt more like surrender than relief. His voice came quieter than he expected, edged with something fragile.
"Okay, okay, Melaine. Maybe I am an idiot after all. Only an idiot would try to wield the full strength of his soul… when half of it's gone."
Bringing his hands together, Leander again closed his eyes.
The power, the strength, the iridescence of Leander's soul washed through him.
Leander now realised his own foolishness had nearly cost him his life. Drawing too deeply from his soul had pushed it to the brink of ruin – like trying to scoop a puddle into a bucket.
This time, he tried a different approach.
Eyes still closed, he extended a hand toward his soul. Before, he'd yanked anima from it in a torrent, a reckless waterfall that had nearly shattered him. Now, he coaxed a mere trickle – faint, insignificant, useless for empowering his body... but for the ring, it might be enough.
The moment that sliver of anima left his soul, Leander guided it toward the ring on his finger. The connection snapped into place, and anima surged into the metal, breathing life into its dormant enchantment.
Leander's breathing grew shallow and quick. His body was trembling slightly.
Tightly closing his eyes, Leander waited, and he waited and waited, and waited some more.
Opening his eyes, Leander looked up to his soul and exhaled. His soul was fine, it was safe. The trickle of anima Leander had drawn from it had not caused it to become destabilised, had not caused it to crack at the seams.
Chuckling, Leander closed his eyes for a moment and opened them back in Silas' tent. His face returned to its calm demeanour.
Turning to Narina, he would ask:
"Did it work?"
As she saw his eyes, Narina jumped off the box.
"Leander! You never said you had green eyes!"
Jumping, Narina latched onto Leander, her hands grabbing his head and holding their heads an inch apart as she looked into his eyes.
The ring's active enchantment had worked. Leander's iris, once marked by an unnatural light that had signified his reputation as an undead, was gone. Now his original eye colour, a pale green, ordinary and human, was the only colour there.
His eyes widened, and Leander grabbed Narina, trying to push her away.
"Okay, that's too close!"
"But they're so pretty!"
All Leander could see as he struggled against Narina was her own light pink iris.
"Narina! Personal space!"
Finally managing to free himself of Narina, Leander grabbed her by the furs, holding her up. The two looked at each other: Leander's face contorted into agitation and was met by Narina's innocent smile.
"Good to see the artefact works, Hero. We would have to rethink the entire plan if you weren't able to power that ring. Although I'm afraid we have nothing for your pale skin."
Dropping Narina, almost immediately as her feet landed on the dead grass, Narina jumped back at Leander. As if he had expected this, Leander swiftly put a hand on Narina's head, keeping her at bay as she tried to jump back onto him. Turning his head to Silas, Leander threw up his other arm in a shrug.
"I couldn't care less about the colour of my skin, Silas. Tell me, now that this is done, how do I get into the Goddess' Kingdom? Do you have any other artefacts we'll need?"
Shaking his head, Silas answered.
"You won't need any more artefacts, you only have to slip across during the dead of the night. Which, as fate would have it."
Tilting his head upward to peer through the holes in his tent, the cyan flames within Silas' eye sockets flickered, becoming the only source of light as the sun dipped below the horizon. The last traces of daylight bled away, leaving the border of the Undead Kingdom swallowed by the night's cold embrace.