Astraea

As Ayre’s protector, I must look so far beyond the immediate threats. When we take to the field, I will need to know where every restorative herb can be found, what they do, and how long it will take to procure and administer.

Beyond the night’s defense, I will need to grasp this terrain well enough that the Cinder Blights cannot use it against us. If I’m clever, we might even be able to turn a familiarity with our environment against strangers like Ayre’s siblings.

I take the time that Ayre grants me and more besides.

Enough for Amari to venture upwards with a distinctly feminine garment in hand and return wearing what I can only imagine is another of Cerya’s robes.

The notion that everyone is settling in nicely is a weight off my heart.

None of it changes the part I must play, but it is enough that even I recognize a need to step out onto an exterior branch for some air. The breeze will do me well to remind myself that I am tasked with ensuring Ayre avoids making the mistake of failing to see the forest for the trees.

My solitude is interrupted as a nearly imperceptible hand guides my chin towards the horizon.

Verdant spires of thorns and silvered greenery spread along Vylia’s western flank to form the bloodthirsty expanse of the Lunarian great wood.

My Goddess makes one final adjustment with the crook of her finger, guiding my gaze at last to what she wishes for me to see.

Thin wisps of smoke announce the setting of a not too distant camp.

My best guess? The Castellan’s broodlings are scarcely more than a few hours’ ride away.

While our enemies rest, Ayre and I will be committed to the night’s watch.

Every exertion I make now must be one that preserves Ayre for what will come next.

I had hoped that there would be more time. Time enough at least to better prepare Ayre for what decisions must soon be made.

I content my Goddess with assurances that permitting Ayre the time needed to rest best serves our purposes. We will need them to be in as close to peak condition as they can get. If for nothing else, than to be in a state of mind where they are willing to listen to reason.

So much rides upon Ayre proving themselves outside of a Vylian court.

If given enough power, influence, and time, Ayre could rise to a position of running one of the Castellan’s ten border territories. That Ayre can be so easily convinced to care for their Dolls and everyone they have met since arriving here gives me hope for what they could do in their siblings’ stead.

But there were moments around the table where I began to suspect Ayre hopes to include the Cinder Blights in ways that run counter to the Castellan and Grove Tender’s shared desire that they be exterminated.

How gentler could Vylia be if Ayre is entrusted with the day to day running of a part of the Vylian Empire? With the mere act of putting ink to parchment, elevating the text to an Imperial Edict, Ayre can be positioned to save more lives than I could take leveraging all of my Goddess’s divine blessings.

All it would cost is to demand that Ayre not stay their hand. Not now, not when their position is at its most delicate.

I wouldn’t ask Ayre to shoulder the blame were I not willing to bloody my hands in their stead.

The end in my mind is a matter of scale. No amount of personal strength that Ayre or I could add to a rebellion would compare to what Ayre could achieve with their role as a Vylian Princess.

With each supporter added to Ayre’s court, my Goddess has permitted me a little more room to push for a better outcome.

With each reason that Ayre gives us to doubt, my Goddess leans on a need to follow through with the letter of her intent more than the heart of it.

One way or another, Lenore must be hers.

I just know that Ayre has more than proved worthy of sharing in that redemption.

But any tangible risk that would see Lenore diminished beyond retrieval is too great for me to not intervene. I cannot ignore that Cerya and Ayre might risk siding with the Cinder Blights too soon.

To step too far out of line now would demand I intervene on the Goddess’s behalf.

And Ayre would never forgive me for that.

But I don’t need their trust to keep them safe.

Not when the Goddess alone has both the willingness and capacity to undo the harm inflicted upon both Ayre and Lenore.

Deep breaths.

My hand shakes against the door that separates a balcony from the inner trunk of the tree spire.

It takes one last caress from the Goddess’s hand, hers atop mine, to give me the courage to now work against Ayre’s own desires.

This is to protect them. Whether they want me to or not.

***

I find Ayre asleep amidst a collection of books, the most important one being their journal clutched tightly in their hands. Arms belonging to Selescia and Cerya wrap around my Princess from either side.

How often have I seen this scene with Fia in Cerya’s place?

Cerya is the only one to stir as I approach the bundle of limbs and bodies arranged atop the nearest petal.

“I’m afraid I’ve come to take Ayre away.” I say with an apologetic whisper meant only for the Lunarian Seer’s sensitive ears.

Cerya’s words barely even register as a whisper. “Promise me. You’ll bring them back.” It is only after the question is asked that I realize her words are delicate ones.

How long has she been waiting for me to come and take her Princess away?

“There are no promises where Ayre and I must go.” I say, my voice grave.

The Seed Seer adjusts her position, revealing one of Selescia’s knives in hand.

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?” Her words form a dangerous accusation.

It is enough to give me pause. Not wishing to underestimate the young Seer, I incline my head. It brings me no joy to give truth to her suspicions. “You were the tipping point, yes.”

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Cerya takes a breath before interposing herself between me and my charge. “I asked Ayre to promise me that they would not face their siblings alone. I… won’t let you take them without some guarantee.”

I remain unmoved by her threat.

No amount of knives raised against me would stop what Gods and nations have set into motion. But I elect to humor this girl by disarming her with words. “Only I can make a difference in such a confrontation. All I can offer you is an assurance that you have done all you can.”

That I am still being unfair is writ plainly on the young seer’s face. Cerya’s shoulders slump as my words seem to ring true enough in her ears.

I am not unsympathetic. But there is no room for the voice of dissent she would lend against my purpose. As a girl caught between the plots of Monsters and Godthings, she would be best served by surviving to aid Ayre in the violence of courtly and imperial functions that will follow tonight’s unpleasantness.

To her credit, Ayre will be stronger for having known her. Theriya too has lightened the burden by so quickly gleaning what stones the Princess would be most comfortable wielding.

But their roles in the confrontation must come to an end.

Cerya lowers the knife. “Why be so cruel?”

I never should have been a lot of things. But cruelty is something I was taught from a young age.

There is no need to sharpen cruelty’s bite.

That she cares for Ayre is enough. They will do great things if Ayre can survive long enough to ascend in the Castellan’s favor.

I decide to relent and give Cerya the satisfaction of seeing that I regret the role I must play. “Because this is how Ayre has been conditioned to accept what unreasonable demands will keep them alive.”

Her shoulders rise and fall helplessly.

With no more resistance, I still my bitter heart and begin to gently pry Ayre from Cerya and Selescia’s arms.

***

Selescia wakes, proving to only be an obstacle long enough to press every knife in her possession into Ayre’s restless hands.

That Cerya and Selescia are too drained to accompany us comes as a relief to a freshly awakened Ayre.

In this I am in agreement. Selescia and Cerya are more equipped for the kind of violence orchestrated at court.

Fia and Ayre on the other hand are likely to be much more in their element when it comes to combating animals animated by Cinder Blight.

As for My Goddess and I… Well, we were both monsters once.

I take it on faith that my divine lover would not lead me astray.

If I must be cruel, I will do so knowing that I can spare Ayre from further nightmares they might never admit to waking from.

The smiles and assurances they offer Cerya and Selescia give way to a haunted look and the clawing at their own flesh once they think no one is looking.

Ayre is parched, but dares not ask for anything more than they need.

I know what it is like to have my survival being dependent on the harm of others. Where my Goddess’s every touch twisted and corrupted the forms of others in order to maintain herself. I am reminded of the days when I could only be sustained by consuming the flesh of the living. And yet somehow the broodlings that the Castellan sires suffer a far worse fate.

It is the kind of wrong I would move mountains in order to address.

Theriya, armed now more confidently with a night of study and reflection, is now all that stands between me and the stairs to the spire’s lowest level.

Amari lounges off to the side, an arrangement of religious texts arranged in front of her.

The symbols in the bindings are enough to confirm that they’ve narrowed my Goddess down to an astral pantheon.

Which is just as well. There are not many who could grant me free reign to so casually shrug off the moon’s bloodlust.

“I will answer your questions” I say, seizing the initiative by setting the terms. “But none of you can be allowed to leave this spire until Ayre returns.”

Amari’s fingers tap casually against the cover of the nearest book. “She’s sure of herself.”

Theriya purses her lips. “Aster wouldn’t care. Lady Midnight would forgive her.”

Ayre’s eyes widen as they grasp the topic at hand.

I press a finger to the Princess’s lips before addressing the others. “If I am everything you believe, you can trust in me to keep Ayre safe.”

Theriya crosses the four of her arms, revealing four armlets set with gemstones. A mix of heavy blue topazes and red garnets brim with the promise of bitter pains they would subject me to. “You must forgive me if I elect to not take the word of someone who serves a deity in decline.”

Frankly, I like my odds.

All it would take is a breath of my Goddess to fill my lungs and Theriya could be pushed harmlessly aside.

But Ayre wouldn’t see it that way, demanding I weigh my options.

I elect to take a risk by allowing Theriya to define her terms. “What will it take for you to allow Ayre and I alone to pass?”

Theriya offers me a wide smile. “Good girl. Amari, assume she serves Lady Midnight. Make our counter offer with that in mind.”

I grow tense, knowing that I am about to lose important leverage.

Ayre casts wary glances between the three of us before taking a cautious step away from me.

Their vulpine escort and now advisor grants the Princess a soft smile. “Sorry you had to wake up to this sweetie.”

Ayre’s cheeks redden as they clear their throat. “It’s okay, I think.”

Amari rises to her feet. She extends a hand in Theriya’s direction as her tail billows behind her. “Theriya has suggested it would sound better if I am the one to assure you that she and Cerya will accept you no matter what happens.”

Theriya weighs in as Ayre turns to give her an uncertain look. “I should probably also apologize for thrusting resonance work on you this morning. I didn’t realize it would put you in as much danger as it did.”

“I know.” Ayre replies without any room for doubt. “Cerya made some time to touch base with me on whether or not the stones resisted me. You crafted it in so short a time and yet… No apologies are necessary. Really.”

But it is with hesitation that Ayre turns to me.

Seeing Ayre take my measure as if they are considering violence is enough to give me pause.

“Okay!” Amari tries to get our attention. “Which brings me to the offer that Theriya wishes to make. She would like to set aside regular days where she or Cerya make themselves available to enable and guide you through making any physical changes to your body that you desire.”

There it is. A loss of leverage.

It takes Ayre a few moments to reply. When they do speak, it is with a voice that strains against tears and whether or not they deserve such a dedication of time and energy. “I… am touched. But let me at least hear Astraea out, okay?”

See my love? Patience. Ayre and Lenore can still be ours.

“By all means.” Theriya clasps a hand over her heart before turning to me. “That wasn’t so difficult was it?” A self satisfied smirk teases across her lips as she steps to the side. “I don’t know what you want with Ayre, Lady Wyrmsbane. But as her sister I should warn you that Cerya will never give Ayre up lightly.”

I can only hope that this proves true in the end, in spite of everything working against them.

As Ayre and I make for the stairs, Theriya passes Ayre a note.

Theriya’s antennae flicker as the Seed Seer trades the seriousness of a confrontation for a more animated explanation long overdue. “I think you deserve a written explanation on the specifications of the implements you now wield. Knowing your limits will help you decide when it would be best to leverage the resources I have provided you.”

“Thank you.” Ayre says, clutching the note to their chest before rolling it up and sliding it into their belt. “And if you don’t mind, I would prefer to be called Princess instead of Prince-thing.”

Theriya’s antennae bob as she permits herself a laugh. “So I have been informed! Rest assured, whatever changes you desire in form, address, or stonework, you will be accommodated here. Go with our belief in you, Princess.”

I am left to set my jaw as I watch a weight be lifted off of Ayre’s shoulders. That Ayre is less likely to doubt their position here will make the next conversation harder, but manageable.

By the time Ayre and I are truly alone, twilight has fallen over the grove.

No matter where we go, the streets are empty. Doors and windows have long since been barred shut.

Should we fail, blighted beasts will roam the streets of the grove.

For now, it means that we can speak freely.

Neither of us does.

A tension grows between us as I permit Ayre to enjoy the waning moments of ignorance to the choices that must be made.

About halfway between the central tree spires and the Grove’s outer wall, Ayre comes to a stop.

I carry on for a few moments, allowing a physical distance to grow until it matches the distance I feel in my heart is between us. Only then do I turn to face the Princess I have sworn my life in service to protecting.

Ayre and I consider each other for a moment. Both of us have taken the time to don quilted layers of Vylian clothing meant to be worn beneath gemstone armor.

But neither of us seem ready or willing to reach for the Onyx keystones to conjure the Vylian armor supplied to us. Nor are we yet willing to commit to the necessities of violence that our assigned roles demand of us.

“We need to talk.” I finally say.

Ayre gives me a weary look. “We do. About everything you’ve told me since arriving here, and more besides. I cannot claim I fully understand why everyone seems to be wary of you all of a sudden. But I’m willing to hear you out. You’ve earned that much at least.”

It grants me no small measure of relief knowing that I got to be the first to make enough of an impression on Ayre.

It is enough to almost hope that I can guide them to a better ending than one crafted in response to the Castellan.

But my smile remains a joyless one. “They’re right about me, unfortunately.”

Ayre reflexively sinks a fang into their lip. With Lenore’s added presence comes a change in posture, rate of breathing, and the subtlest of differences in expression. It is like I am staring at a different person, because I am.

The divine mantle of Life is capable of so much more than Ayre realizes.

If Ayre’s parasite were anything less than a mangled piece of a dead deity, Lenore would not still be alive right now.

I could have given Ayre answers.

I could have been gentle.

But now that Ayre’s loved ones have given them other options and assurances, what I offer is a cruelty.

As far as Ayre is concerned, I am about to ask them to trade one Castellan for another.

“It’s true.” I say. “I serve a waning Goddess of the Night whose only demand is that I pluck Lenore from your chest.”