CW:

Soul attack. Soul possession to sing. Plurality hintings. Restraining to stop Lyra from singing. Bubbles becoming bindings and being put in a BEG bubble. Gag that stops talk or breath or singings.

Old horrid instincts flare in fury, and I jerk us to a halt.

“Lyra?”

I turn and look about the hallway we’re taking back to our chambers.

Empty. But… Then why am I panicking?

“Heya, what is it?” Awnya whispers as her hand squeezes mine harder. “Talk to me girl.”

“Don’t think about the words first, just let them bubble up as you need them. Overthinking can muddle things as much as anything else.” My mother had reminded me in these few days we’ve been able to spend practicing.

“Is it another shadow?” My Fae presses, our children nuzzling close and keeping her calmer than me.

I slowly shake my head as I look around. “N– not sure.” Still messy but… She said it would take time.

“Alright. Can you explain what’s happening?”

I huff and gurgle out a growl as I look up and down the hall again. “N– nothing. Just…”

Her head tilts, then her gaze follows mine. “Huh. I swear I feel someth–.”

Sea-bed of a Soul roils in sudden pain, and then I’m on my knees. A deep ache jolting through my senses like… like something…

Promises Broken

Something…. Something reaches up. Through the muck. Pushing aside countless memories and wills and little spirits lost in the dark.

To find me.

I scream as something slams into head and heart and spirit and soulflame. Awnya is… is reaching out to help but…

Can’t let her and our children get… get… caught by what comes for me!!!

So as gently as possible I brace three tendrils against her Amwella, and use a tossing force to give her a great shove away before–

“Ly–”

And then this monster from the pits of my soul finds me.

Spirits bubble, a will thrums in such… such… Annoyance? Agitation? Not… not anger.

Not yet.

A limb curls from the shadow my soul doesn’t cast to wind about my throat. Darkness dripping away to reveal a furred limb of glimmering sun kissed fur, laden with little jade bracelets and cracked gemstones.

And… and from within the pitch behind my seabed of a soul a cluster of sandy-shaded eyes snap open to glare.

[Return. To. Your. Rift.]

My what? Why… But what Rift is it wanting me to…

I growl as talons and Naranggas claw at the choking limb.

It wants me to go back to Theradas!?!

The muck below and all around roils as its eyes narrow, and It rumbles to say more, but I’m already twisting my Amwella into sharp shapes of whirling death. Ripping and tearing and rolling forward to break this old stupid fuzzy thing.

To abandon my lovers and our children!?!

The pitch twitches, eyes widen in surprise as Naranggas rend it’s limb away and toss it aside to fade into thoughtless nothings. But then a hissing snarl snaps forth, and suddenly the darkness below erupts. What was a single grasping claw is now a few dozen. But…

My seabed is endless.

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And together we rip and tear and fight back against the spirit that’s risen from the muck. It howls and snarls and… and…

It’s laughing?

“Lyra! Hey girl what’s–” Awnya begins to ask from where she landed. Gorgeous arm feathers flaring out to steady her.

My eyes widen as I jerk to scream more clearly than ever to her. “RUN!”

And then the pitch itself rises in howling amused wroth. Twists and forms into a messy fuzzy patch that’s already gripping at my ankles and legs. Naranggas seem to scream with me as we slice and cut and bite and chew but… but it’s SO much and this nonsense already has my legs and… and I can’t cut fast and hard enough to free them and… and my tendrils are getting caught and the fur is spread up them and into the seabed and around my Amwella and…

And through our everything a song begins to howl.

A twisting melody of old pain and will and fury and hunger and… and other things. Things I don’t have the words for. Fae or human or even Reaver tongue!

Bubbling up past my lips to slam against the Manor like nothing I’ve ever tried. My Reaver’s Riftwalks are…. They’re quick and bloody rends. So different than any Riftwalk I’ve seen Awnya or Usete or even Tretion do. And this… this is worse.

It’s like a Fae song. But… also not? Horridly pretty but woven without very many Fae words. More will that careful designs.

So much like how I’ve been singing these past years.

Drawing up my Amwella that their fur and song are smothering, I scream the best countermelody I can manage. Twisting gurgling growls lacking all soft Fae words Awnya and my mother have been wanting to teach me. Trying to claw back and drag down this monster that’s crawled up from the pitch and begun to rip magic from my soul.

Awnya shouts something that’s just… lost to the song as the Manor rumbles beneath our feet. A mess of questions and requests and such confusion at the twinned things tearing from my throat. Bubbles start popping out of the floor and ceiling to clutch at arms and shoulders and hips.

Stop!

But… It's too much. And I feel this Riftwalk tearing at our Manor’s shell. Cracking it like I did so many years ago.

STOP!

I spin a whining plea into my working. Begging the manor to… to help or…

WAIT!

And I hiss the quickest version of my plan into my working.

NO!

PLEASE! I wail. I… I promise to come back! But… but Awnya’s here and… and I don’t want you hurt again and… and… I don’t know what this is and I can’t let it hurt any of you and–

Containment.

Wh–

And then our song is cut off by a slurry of bubbles curling up and about my neck and head and mouth and… and plunging down my throat and… and suddenly I can’t breathe!

But it cuts off the song.

More and more bubbles solidify to pin and hold my seabed of a soul still. Ending the home-cracking symphony and furious flailings. Pulling me to kneel upon the soft carpets.

Can’t stop the angry tears that dribble as I glare down at the eyes slowly pulling back into the pitched shadows behind my soul. Wanting so badly to hiss and bite at this stupid horrid thing that used my lips and my soul to almost hurt this perfect home and my wonderful Fae and our amazing children!!!

A huff of a snarl, and it pulls away. Thrumming fury as it seems to lay and rest just at the shadow’s edge.

Watching…

A pop, a gurgle, and the bubbles cutting off my mouth pull free. But… not all the way. Just enough to let me take a gasp of air.

“Lyra!” Awnya’s carefully moving to kneel before me. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Just… little breaths at first, okay? Don’t panic. This is just one of the best ways we could think to keep everyone safe if something like this happened.”

I nod and obey. Try to murmur an apology but… the bubbles don’t like that and pull really close when I try to make any sounds.

“Not your fault, and Dreamer’s Tits could I see you fighting.” My wonderful Fae whispers. “I’m so proud of you.”

More tears, and more little breaths. Our children get curious a few times and try to wobble over but… the barrier of bubbles stops them. Eliciting a few little gurbles of worry and confusion.

Not my fault. Not my fault. Not my fault. Not my fault. NOT MY FAULT! I’m OKAY! Awnya’s SAFE and… and our children aren’t scared. Just… just a bit worried. Everyone’s FINE!

After a while the manor even lets one of my talons free to hold Awnya’s hand. But… not anything else. It still doesn’t want me to talk, and definitely not sing. Just… waiting?

For what? I…

And then a door is opening and our Watcher is coming to kneel next to Awnya and with her is… Everflame Raska.

I turn my head to look down and away. Would squeeze my eyes shut but… then I’d just be even more aware of her blaze of a soul and… the shadows lurking behind mine.

“Beloved?” Tretion whispers, taking up my talon. “We’re going to have the manor move you to a safer room, okay? Is that alright?”

I nod, and our watcher murmurs a quick command to the manor. Then there is a heavy click behind me and the bubbles sorta… slerp me backways into a room so much like the Heart room or the little entryway beyond the outer gate.

All stone and damp and brimming with some really colorful and pretty bubbles. Some even… even seem to reflect things that aren’t there? Then one sort of rolls over and around me. Pushes all the little bubbles away to just… hold me in itself. Freeing my everything to stand and look around and…

My watcher and Fae enter the room after that. Flanked by Raska. Talking even but… I can’t hear them. I try to force out a word but… But no sound is made.

Oh… OH!

Can’t help but grin painfully and wibble my soul in both love and shame. Slumping to sit between my delight in how she’s thought of everything, and… and how she’s needed to prepare something like this for me.

“Beloved?” Tretion murmurs, and I look up from myself to find her kneeling to sit just outside the bubble. Suddenly able to hear her but… it’s kinda muffled and distant. “I… I’m so sorry.”

I shake my head and mouth my best ‘Thank you’ to her. Then try for ‘When?’

She winces and sighs, “I… After that first night, when Awnya told me what happened and I still thought you might still suffer from Waking Nightmares, I promised myself something. Never again. No more will you need to fear lashing out and hurting someone you love while you're safe in this home.”

I bite my lip and dig talons into legs as I look down in such grateful shame.

“So… Let’s take this slow.” Awnya moves to sit beside her. “This bubble will let you talk in a moment, but if it senses any stirring of song or soulflame it’ll seal up right quick.”

I nod.

A quick word, another pop, and suddenly I can hear myself breathing.

“S– sorry.” Is the first word I murmur.

“Not your fault.” Awnya repeats with a sigh. “Not from what I saw, which wasn’t much but… more than before. I couldn’t sense anything but your anger when that first spirit bubbled up. But this one…”

Tretion lays a hand on our Fae’s knee as she trails off. “Let’s start from the beginning, what happened?”

Deep breath, and I tell them. Drowning in shame and guilt and anger and broken useless words that take me what feels like forever to get out. But they are so patient. Sitting and listening and only asking a few questions about details I don’t think to add at first.

“Is this spirit still here?” Awnya finally asks.

I glare down at the shadow, and the eyes I feel and see glowing in fury from within. Nod once.

“Has it offered any other words of demand beyond what it did before? Spoken a name or intent?” Our watcher adds.

I pause, and bore all my will and fury into the thing. It doesn’t shift or change. Only… radiates slight annoyance.

I shake my head.

And then my Watcher turns back to regard her duenna. The ever silent guardian has spent this entire time just… looking past us all. But… she doesn’t see things like us. Doesn’t need to be facing the center of her focus. And if I’m reading her dancing flame of a soul correctly she…

No... Wait! Is… is that more than one thought path? Four or… or maybe even six colorful windings of considerations dancing about?

Raska sighs and purses her lips. Gives a soft and pained nod that sets her soul to writhing into such a mess of conflict.

“Alright beloved we…” Tretion winces. “We… We’re going to explore some options.”

I quirk a questioning eyebrow. “Wh– what op– o– options?”

“I’d rather research them first, then offer what seems most promising.” Tretion reaches out to touch the edge of the bubble’s clear wall between us. “Will you trust me in this? Wait here and… and…”

I nod easily and place talon on my side of the bubble, overlapping hers. “Al– always. J– just k– keep s– ss– safe. Pl– please. Ch– chil– dreen and s– self.”

“Of course.” Awnya assures me, placing her hand up next to our watcher’s. Which I match immediately. Even press as much of my sea bed of a soul against it too. Letting it writhe and even claw gently at the barrier we need to keep between us.

Trusting these wonderful Beloveds Bound to take care of our family, and me.