Abhorrence choked tightly within my throat. On reflex, still clutching to my tainting ego, not yet willing to give away, I put up a defense. Hardening my posture, hiding away the urge to weep -- in seclusion. Despite my attempts, festering emotions did not escape the scrutiny of Lyria. I ached to fall apart in abject surrender.

When would I learn?

Only an eerie numbness made its presence known. Even pain would have been a relief. Pain meant life and life meant it was possible to move on. That it was possible to improve myself. To strive towards betterment. For Lyria. For Delyn.

That I might heal.

But even pain abandoned my wretched self. My very being was so uncompromising, for even pain to reside.

Lyria pulled me close. A Soothing sensation gently flooded my veins. Our foreheads butted together, she kissed my cheek with infinite gentleness. Slowly. Ever so carefully, she stroked my arm. Her warm palms caressed my skin. Even as she pulled her hands away, warm sensations were left in her wake.

We stared at each other. Silence. A chasm between us stretched wide open. An entire world existed, solely for us. Just the two of us in an infinitesimal sanctuary.

But then...

Tears fell from Lyria's eyes, plummeting in floods down her cheeks.

I wanted nothing more than to offer comfort, stroke her hair, and whisper sweet words of comfort. To make her whole and beautiful, and smiling. Yet, despite my yearnings, I could only look at her tear-stained cheeks. The strength wavered. My plea for absolution was silent.

It was at that moment, I realised, we were both broken. Too broken to carry the other.

"Rils, I was just about to commit the same mistake I made with my children," said Lyria. A hollow, empty mirth infused her voice, contrasting sharply with the stark sorrow of her words. Everything about it felt wrong.

"Did you know it was a struggle to hold Delyn?"

I did not.

In that instant, I realised, how little I knew about my beloved and even less about my daughter.

We gaze locked to link both our resolves but only our combined chorus of desperate grief answered.

"I am sorry," I whispered. In truth, I was more self-centred. Selfish enough to view everything through a tinted view of my own anger. My own indignation.

A trembling sob escaped Lyria. "I still see Urlach, Erukas and Phaedra. Staring. Accusing me. For my failures." Her tone cracked and echoed off the walls. Her emotion raged, terrifyingly real.

I reached out, a wrapping comfort to her battered form.

Lyria clung to me fiercely, face buried against my shoulder. We remained, clasped close to each other. Supporting each other. Just the two of us stroking the pain out of one another, keeping each other strong. I held Lyria and did not let her go.

I did not want her to go.

Eventually, Lyria sniffed, released herself from my embrace and wiped her nose.

"I raised two sons but Phaedra was my only daughter." She stifled another sob and added. "Till Delyn came."

I waited, allowing her pain to sink in. Grief. Agony. Despair; all made potent and volatile under years of suppression.

Slowly, ever so softly, she spoke. "Do you know why she was called Phaedra Cindercrest?"

I remained silent and nodded so that Lyria could continue.

"As always it was my brother who first found her. Abandoned. Hardly a day old." Lyria gave a slight laugh, wiping her nose again, her expression slowly drifting to memories of brighter times. "He found her near an abandoned fireplace. Soot stuck to her newborn head. She was so small, her head not yet fully formed. We even dreaded to wash the blackness from her head."

Our limbs slowly gave out. Feeling the numbness of the emotional kind, wash over both our bodies, I tugged Lyria to the floor. Sitting beside her, I wrapped my arm around her waist. Enfolding her. She quickly leaned, resting her head upon my chest, accepting the warmth and the calming rhythmic beat my heart offered.

"That is why we decided to call her Cindercrest." Lyria relaxed, sinking her head deeper into my chest and folding her legs up.

It was soothing, and comforting, to hold her close. Until her eyes grew misty again once more. Only then, she spoke. Telling the story that started everything else.

"Growing up, my brother and I were close. We were all that we had for each other. He was the noblest, born to a prophecy, to unite our people. To lead us to a glorious future, crushing our oppressors. Liberating us." Lyria tilted her head up, offering a tired smile, proud and tired. "That is what they told us. But he believed -- otherwise."

"Where others sought isolation, he sought acceptance. Where others selected strife, he chose coexistence. Where others aimed for domination, he marched towards emancipation. Where others wanted war, he demanded peace."

She pressed even more closer. From the hem of her skirt, her tail peeked from beneath the fabric. Slowly trailing with hypnotic serpentine motion, her tail crawled across my thighs. Finally, her tail settled comfortably across, lazily wagging back and forth in my lap.

"My brother," continued Lyria, deep pain hiding something different beneath, "was honest with those he cared for. And he cared for all. And he loathed the fate that was ordained for me."

"Your fate?"

"I was supposed to be sacrificed. That was the only reason for my existence." Her fingers sought out mine, but it was her whispered words that drifted across my conscience. She smiled at her own murmured admission. "Sacrificed to become an ultimate soul-ordained weapon for him to wield in the final conflict."

"But Lyria, how could you resign to such a fate?"

"Resignation is a complex concept." Lyria hesitated. "To some, it is easy to live, at any cost. For others, it is hard to live, especially with the knowledge that your death could save the life of your loved one."

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"But you had children depending on you."

"The paradox of eventuality," mused Lyria, giving a tiny shrug. Her silvery-grey eyes were filled with a lonely misery. "Or the knowledge of eventuality makes accepting it easy. Knowing my own fate made me accept that one day I would leave my children alone. But I vow to give them the best life that I could while I breathed."

Lyria's shoulder dropped, becoming loose and limp, allowing me to pull her body into my arms. She snuggly buried her head further into my chest, seeking protection from her pallid past. Her legs hugged tight around my hips. Her hands slowly rose up, fingers clutched the crease of my crumpled fabric. Her tail curled and uncurled. Watching Lyria at the moment, gone was my powerful beloved who made demons tremble, instead, she was a battered, tormented creature, seeking nurture.

"What happened then?" I asked lightly, pressing my lips against her forehead -- placing a gentle kiss there.

"You happened." Her tail teasingly flicked over my thigh. For Lyria -- who was extremely conscious of her tail -- to even willingly expose her tail was akin to revealing her more vulnerable form. To let it slither on my lap would be nothing short of a total shredding of her whole self, laid bare open.

"You appeared, with your knowing smirk, magnetic eyes and irresistible pull. You left me powerless, without breaking a sweat." Lyria smiled, gingerly dragging my hands to play with the length of her tail. At my touch, every fine hair on Lyria's body bristled. "And I was helpless against your charm."

For a vulnerably tender moment, her tail writhed and twitched but eventually accepted the gentle authority of my touch -- almost as if she waited for it, for too long. She slowly eased. Lyria left a long drawn sigh of exhilaration as she felt me squeeze her tail tighter. Her warm steamy breath gushed over my face.

"I should have fled, gathered my measly belongings and made my way home. To where my children waited for me, but I allowed myself to be intoxicated by your charms." Her eyes welled up once more. "I foolishly stayed -- to spend one more night in your arms."

Lyria sobbed. Quietly. Meekly. Gently. Her weeping at my side nearly undid me. With the softest sincerity, I rubbed her tail in a comforting motion. For a brief moment, time seemed to pause, suspended in a void of silence. Her tail curled around my wrist, seeking solace in my touch, urging me wordlessly to continue with my caress.

"One more night," Lyria repeated. "What could possibly go wrong?, I told myself. One more night and then it is back to fulfilling my purpose. But the Circle Princes moved."

Lyria took a shuddering breath, waiting until her breathing became normal. Slowly she lifted her head, tucking herself closer. Her tail coiled tightly around my hand in a silent plea for acceptance.

"When I went back, Phaedra immediately noticed my glow. Urlach and Erukas are my sons but Phaedra is my daughter. Daughters are always perceptive." Her tone changed slightly. Lyria began talking more to herself than me. To some extent, I agreed with the sentiment. "When I told her about what we did, she even teased that I should elope with you."

"You told her everything?" I asked in abject horror. I could hardly imagine breaking a fraction of the things I did with my lovers to Delyn.

"You know, when I adopted Phaedra, I was just a child. We were not much separated in age. The definition of our relationship was transient. Sometimes, our bond was of a mother and daughter and at other times, we were sisters."

"But you did tell her everything?" I repeated.

"Phaedra always showed a maturity beyond her age." Bitterness crept back into Lyria's voice. "But in the end, it was all futile. I was late. My children were corrupted. I failed to protect them. To be there. To shield them."

Her tears poured forth. Yet, her tail wrapped around my hand, begging to be consoled, firmly, gently, forcing calm into her chaotic emotions. With my thumb, I brushed smooth circles along her tail, letting guided warmth from my hands fill her.

With my other hand, I embraced her, giving comforting strokes with gentle force. Lyria's body shook violently with a shuddering sob and eventually, she calmed.

Lyria continued. "While I was indulging in salacious delights in your arms, my children were corrupted by The Circle Princes. Fed lies and false hopes. They were blinded by a veil of forbidden promises. Their souls consumed in ashes of illusions and vain fantasies."

Her eyes blazed, hardened, resolute. Firm. Teeth bared. Unbridled rage spilling. Her tail lashed like blood-starved vipers. Lyria fought against the despair of the past. "When I found out, they were about to release the plague. Killing them was all I could do to prevent them from treading the vile path."

My eyes widened in horror. The disgrace of the act that I was about to foolishly commit, knotted like coiled serpents inside me. Unceasing and relentless.

"But you could have restraint them?" I protested. Still seeking a sliver of redemption.

"Rils, I have run the events of that day countless times through my head." A heavy sadness of centuries of suppressed emotions slid over Lyria's face. A profound sigh of futile despair passed her lips. "There was no way for me to contain my children. Infinite is a malice wielded by The Circle Princes. Their vile plans contain plans within. Even the murder was a trick to sacrifice them. The very venom I loathed now binds me, Rils."

Deep in the pit of my stomach, in my gut, I knew Lyria meant every word she poured out. Pain cascaded through her. Her tail twitched like a spineless worm under the cruel beam from a lens. Despite my grip, the convolution never stopped. What happened to Lyria, was a great price than anyone could ever afford to pay.

"Could you not have knocked them unconscious?"

"I could not. Not while cradling Celerim with one arm, and ..." Lyria's voice trailed down, chocked by the thought of her actions that were shrouded in agony. "...using my other arm to..."

Her tailed stilled its movements. Her words were saturated with echoes of regret and anguish.

I gave her a little squeeze, letting warmth travel.

"I am begging you, Rils," pleaded Lyria, imploringly. "Do not force me to relive the moment again. Do not torture me like this. The pain tears me apart, even after centuries. Promise me. You will not ask this of me."

"No, I will not."

"Thank you." Lyria gave a sad smile despite the tears dribbling down her cheeks. "When Delyn came to the world, I was overjoyed, but my joy was short-lived. Every time she saw me with those dark pearly eyes of hers, I only saw accusation. I could not hold her with blood-red hands. I cannot sing to her with words of a murderer."

With a vice grip, Lyria's tail tightened around my hand. Her fingers prodded, tearing cured leather and fabric, seeking the feel of my naked skin. Her legs turned inwards, pressing, tightening around me. She wanted to sink into me -- for me to draw her in, accepting all of her.

She longed for my embrace. It surreptitiously dawned on me that acceptance was the only thing that held her upright. Emotionally torn and battered, tortured by loss and bitterness, Lyria craved a place. What she needed required a strength -- a strength of a different sort -- that I wondered if I possessed.

It takes one sort of will to stand in front of a maddening ravenous swarm of demons alone and another sort of will, to be the support an ailing lover needs. The former, I had plenty, the latter I knew not.

I have known warriors, brave and inspiring, who would fearlessly face starved dragons but shudder at opening themselves to fill an emotionally vulnerable void. I wondered if I was one of them.

Lyria reached out, and grasped my hand -- the one not comforting her tail -- folding it within both of hers, kissing it softly on the knuckles. "Rils," she called softly, boring deep into my eyes. "The day's events brought back troubled memories. It hurts. Could you take away some of the pain?"

"If only I knew how."

As a response, her tail coiled tighter around my wrist, huddling closer. She squeezed more, shifting forward, pressing her entire weight into me. "Would you make me forget everything? Even if it were for a meagre time?"

With her evident request, I opened my mouth, ready to accept whatever it took, whatever form of closeness she desired. "Do you really want me to.... perform on you?"

"Please." With eyes glistening, Lyria moaned an affirmation.

A hot rivulet of moisture billowed out from her parted lips. With each beat of her heart, I heard the ocean surging around us.

My own feelings and experiences stood on unstable ground. I have had endless nights of intimacy just to sate my lust, or to indulge my wanton curiosities or even to bask in the culmination of power over someone but what Lyria needed, at the moment, -- to remind herself of sanity through intimacy, to erase the pain, even temporarily -- was a daunting task. But for Lyria, a little pleasure might help cleanse the inner turmoil.

No matter the direction, or the motivation, one thing remained clear. There was a part of me -- stubborn, ready to fight for her -- wanting to let her know that she has a sanctuary.

I wiggled. Slowly, sliding my thighs between her legs.

Offering no resistance, Lyria complied. Her tail uncoiled, releasing its muscular grip around my wrist. Tilting herself slightly, exposing her luscious lips with soft sighs. Wordlessly pleading me to claim. An audible intake of air, and another deep sigh, announced her invitation for me.

Leaning lower, I claimed her wanting lips.