CW:

NEW POV! Who could this beee!?! (It's Undreka) ehehehe. Talk of abuse and fuzzy spirits and snuggles and woops murber!

This place roils at my prowling through its passages. Growls and threatens and even considers rousing itself to try and expel me.

But when I offer it a feast of unstolen Warmth, it settles. Not trusting one of my kind, but nor does it stop me from stalking its halls.

Creatures like this have long learned to tolerate the presence of worse than my brood. And… I’ll no doubt impart a feast for it again, which will settle me in its memory for quite a while. If I depart through these halls I’ll find them soft and simple to walk from.

As opposed to the pulsing angry and senseless shapes it's taken to becoming.

Then I find my goal.

A twisting between the shell-laden cracks and grooves. Leading into a pit that would otherwise dump anyone who falls into it down through more meaningless depts.

I wonder… Did the Matron who claimed this Rorliras ever discover how it worked? I’d departed before our scheduled raiding into these tunnels through the Sapana. Never knew if Thendra found this passage.

This Leviathan wouldn’t stand her stench in this place for long, much lest… lest…

And the old memories and Oaths and Promises remain broken deep within me. Forcing a halt in my hunt while I stop and sit my form on the edge of the chasm.

Bulderii told me less than nothing, and Thendra…

She held none of the furious wroth she had back in those cursed woods. Only brimmed with glee. Even… even thanked me for the girl my folly caused to stumble into her care. Offered me the chance to help her hunt one of the older Fae who roiled with the older songs.

Helped me remember more than before.

And then I left.

Wandering the Sapana alone.

I growl at that. At how much it still hurts to be away from my brood. From her. From the purpose she gave me. Everything without just bleeding such… pointless things.

I shed more of myself as I seethe. Letting soulfire bleed away into the Rorliras. Feeding this twisting place more of myself. Not because it needs or asks but… If what Thendra told me about Lyra is true… Where she is. What she’s become…

I’ll need to move quietly. Unnoticed and simply… half-warmed Amwella beneath its gaze. At least… until I find her.

Decide what to do from there.

Still not enough though. With this much soulflame, even with my core shrouded and Naranggas tied I’ll blaze like a torch in the abyss. So I shed more of my strength. And as years of drunken flame falls away my form becomes more… solid. Less able to shift and twist into my most powerful shapes.

In those last moments I… I’m not sure how much to change. But… in the end it is better to go as I was the last time she saw me. Because It won’t matter. The curse she wove in a misguided attempt to save me will tell her without a doubt who I am, and that’s even if Thendra’s words about her soul sensing abilities are untrue…

I sit for a while as I feel this place sink will and fang into the soulflame I’m leaving behind. Considering this hunt and the prey I would track and… and…

What?

Resting arms on my knees I glare down into the chasm. Noticing the shifts that mark the twisting that will take me to the place this girl festers within.

Why am I taking such obvious bait left for me?

Naranggas twist and curl and flex sharp edges to hook and drag and tear and redrink and seal into a dark core shrouded in the shadow of my Naranggas.

When did I see this girl as… as anything but some foolish feast to consume? Did… When I shouted for her to run was that a howl of true demand for her safety or…

What?

Can’t help but feel something dredge itself up from the muck of the Sapana and force a ravenous grin across my face.

How better to find out, then to grip her neck between my fangs, and take a drink of this Godling’s blaze while her body breaks within my talons?

And then I step forward, endure such a crushing sense of the Sapana's Screaming, and then find myself… striding through warm and well lit hallways.

Bare feet across soft carpets, air drowning in fostered reflections of all the things flesh-woven spawn need. A place of safety and… healing?

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

That, more than this Manor’s curious grumbles at me, halts my forward steps. Makes me pause.

Have to shake my head and let my shadowy core flex sharp death to remind me of… of…

Of what was stolen. Of what needs to happen. Of the wretched things that would only now… as the Sapana just began to quiet, would dash it all to blaze once again.

The snarl that escapes my lips cracks the walls and tears the light from the air. Leaving this entire passage in dead Pitch and Shadows.

And the Manor forgets about the thing that now stalks these halls in search of its next feast.

***

“No name?” Awnya asks.

I pause, turning the question inward. We’re all sitting in a bit of a pile on the floor of the bedroom. Tasty breakfast between us as I try my best to shape the blurry memories from last night into word-shaped things.

The Fuzzy Spirit seems to… pointedly not want to answer our Fae’s question.

“M– mebe?” I murmur. “N– no answer.”

Raska nods. “Took my First like… almost a year to share his. Give it time.”

“And you’re sure it's watching the shadows?” Tretion presses, tendrils curling around me both carefully but… so happily. “Keeping to this agreement?”

I nod. “Pr– romised. K– keep each other s– safe. F– family safe.”

Raska smirks at that. “You can feel it, can’t you? Not like how you feel your own emotions, but… this odd second blaze burning close.”

I consider that and sway back and forth. “Mebe?”

“She’s not an Everflame, Raska.” Tretion murmurs.

“Close enough?” Raska quirks an eyebrow and her soul blazes in twinned delight and excitement. “Like… Sure she doesn’t have the spark of one. No secret language, but… What I’m saying is that she feels this Spirit, and it feels her. They can’t really trick each other or lie well.” Then she looks at me. “You don’t just trust it because you're being nice, you would know the second it means to burn against you.”

I nod. “Yes. It… hmmm…”

I turn inward again. Feel the question wibble about it.

The Fuzzy Spirit bristles in so many different directions, then settles as I nuzzle it close and echo the things my Amwella sings with aloud. “Family, now.”

That makes everyone pause, save Raska who laughs as her twin eyes blaze in relief.

“I… Like your Jellyfish?” Tretion asks carefully.

I shake my head. “No. Um… D– different…”

And trail off, words not shaping well to match this.

“But safe, right?” Awnya nods. “It’s gonna help protect you? Or… just hide after warning you that something is bubbling up from the shadows?”

I consider it, pull back to clarify our relationship.

“H– help.” I nod. “M– mebe. N– not always. B– but if I a– ask or n– need, w– will.”

That makes everyone relax so much. There are still worries but… with how happily my Jellyfish still nuzzle I find the best words to settle the last bits of their worries over this soft and Fuzzy Spirit nestled deep within my Amwella. “It c– can’t g– get to J– je– jelly– fish un– less I m– move it.”

That… gets more questions to bubble up. But more curious, and I spend at least another few eternities trying to explain what the ‘maybe’ part of my Amwella is.

“Oh!” Awnya finally exclaims. “Like where inspiration comes from?”

“I… yes?” I murmur. “M– mebe?”

Tretion shakes her head and huffs as her tendrils wibble about. “That would make even less sense.”

“Huh…” Raska nods. “No that… that tracks. Sort of.”

“Can any of you explain this in such a way that a Watcher like myself can comprehend?” Our Tretion asks but… I can feel her smile in the question. “My… proficiencies lay within magics that require strict accordance to limits and hard edges, while… all of yours seem to require some level of artistic interpretation.”

“Ah… um…” Raska purses her pretty soot stained lips in thought.

“Probably think of it like how when you're stumped on a problem where numbers don’t seem to add up.” Our Fae offers. “You get a good snuggle from me, or Lyra, night’s rest and breakfast in a Grove and…” She snaps her fingers. “The answer just slips into place like it was always there.”

“Or like how dry kindling can erupt at the slightest spark.” Raska adds.

Tretion considers this, then nods. “I… suppose that helps. A little. It would worry me to hear it explained that way if you two weren’t so calm about it. A previous near feral Spirit now nestled so deep into our Beloved’s Amwella seems quite unsafe.”

“W– wouldn’t h– have w– w– w– worked if we d– didn’t p– promise.” I murmur. “L– like J– jellyfish wh– when y– young. Wh– when j– just w– words. H– had t– to m– match. Un– undddd– er– stand. A– at least l– lit– little.”

Awnya nods with a smirk. “And now you have that same feral Spirit at your back. Call it family even.”

I nod.

“I’d love to have it talking though, get some answers.” Tretion hugs me tighter. “I know we agreed not to press it too hard for that but…”

The Fuzzy Spirit seems to curl more about itself. And… shivers in… guilt? So I cuddle it closer and radiate calm patience.

“W– ords are h– hard.” I whisper. “It… Like m– me. A bit. Won’t r– rush. W– will be s– safe t– t– together.”

“Of course!” Awnya agrees immediately and with furious honesty that helps calm the Spirit. “This changes so much. We can take our time and really puzzle this all out together now.”

I hide my wince at… at that.

Tretion nods. “True. If this new Spirit is truly an ally and wanting to keep you safe… well, anything from the Pitch that might rise up will be hard-pressed to face you both. A trip to the Rifts can be delayed indefinitely, unless things change.”

“Oke.” I whisper, and the word lets the mess I feel inside spill out. Alerting the three of them to the pain that ripples within me. So much that even the Fuzzy Spirit seems to nibble at the edges of it, then snuggle close in… something. Radiating warmth and comforts at least.

Tretion holds me closer, and Awnya scoots to take up a talon and give it a good squeeze.

I… I’m really not going to see her ever again. My Beloveds and this new Fuzzy member of my family just… just helped me through this scary thing and… and no one got hurt and… and…

“Hey, Lyra…” Awnya murmurs softly, finger drifting up to brush away the first tear that’s begun to fall. “It’s… It’s okay.”

I shake my head. “N– no. St– stupid. Sh– sh– should… wh– why c– can’t… I h– hhh– hate h– her? W– want to. O– only. B– but… c– can’t.”

“You’re not stupid, love.” Tretion whispers, hugging me closer.

“Am.” I huff. “Sh– should o– only h– hate. Sh– sh– she… h– hurt m– me. D– d– doesn’t l– love me. T– told m– me. B– but… spl– spl– split. B– both L– love and H– hate.”

A good pause passes as they all wait for me to say more. Amwella thrumming with such patience I just don’t deserve.

“Naw, that’s normal, actually.” Raska is the first to speak up.

I expect everyone to be confused, but… they all glow in agreement.

“Huh?” I look up after wiping away the muppiness from my eyes.

Raska takes a deep breath, and sighs. Twin cores at the heart of her soul burning in quiet pain and worry. “Sorry just… yeah. I hate it. Hate how… how I can’t hate the people who hurt me. Not fully at least.”

Another pause, and I whisper. “C– can a– ask who?”

The Everflame smiles so sadly, but nods. “Yeah, of course. It… Too many to count. The easiest for me to hate are the Fucks I didn’t care for. People who never meant much and I burned from my life easily. But… then there’s my family. My kindred Sparks. Moms and sisters and brothers and… and old allies. Souls who used me but… also helped me. Probably loved me. Maybe still do. But… treated me like Embers. Only showed kindness when I sparked true and gave them what they wanted.”

“S– sorry.” I whisper.

Raska huffs out a laugh. “Got nothing to apologize for, girl. But… thanks.”

The quiet that follows is patient, and seems to just… naturally lead to our wonderful Watcher’s next words.

“I… for me it was my mothers and cousins.” Tretion whispers thoughtfully. “The first two adored me, but thought that it was best to hurt me to try and make sure none others could. It didn’t work. And… when I lost my first two lovers. The very girls they gifted me as… as slaves, but tried to treat as equals, I blamed them. Still do. The abuse only served to leave such deep wounds that only bleed hotter when I was left alone to keep this Manor for our Matron.”

I turn to mush myself into Tretion. Feel her soul wriggle in… in an almost effort to brush aside the pain but… instead she returns the embrace so much harder than I expect. “I… I wish you could have met them. Nelops sometimes has brief moments of remembering the girl who’s body she inherited but… She’s her own person. That… that hurt even more to realize. Both for her and me. I know she forgives me and… and knows it wasn’t out of malice but…”

I curl about her tighter still, murmur little nothings of love and care as she trails off. Holding back words and tears that she knows would drown her. Awnya joins in the hug soon after. And we sit for a while. And… an odd thing sits between all this.

A question. For me.

Not urgent and not directed but… I’m the one who has to give this answer. Who… who has to offer this.

It’s… hard. So much anxiety bubbles up.

What if I mess this up again? What if… if I hurt her? Or… or she hurts me or… or I’m stupid and am not reading her pretty and rippling Amwella well and she actually wants nothing to do with me?

But… also… What if she still loves me?

So I take a deep breath, wriggle free enough to turn and face Raska. Opening my mouth to try and force out words…

Then the Manor is rumbling in… confusion? Fear? And a mess of Home-shaped things I’m not sure I get.

But Tretion, Awnya and Raska’s soul spark into motion. Each rising and two helping to pull me to my feet.

“That’s… What!?!” Awnya is hissing.

“Something at the Outer gate?” Raska presses, the least sure.

“No.” Tretion is pulling free to press me into Our Fae’s arms. Moving to the little chest she keeps to pull out…

The Staff thing holding the hungry Spirit of Soul-Shredding.

“Something’s inside this Manor.” Our Beloved growls. “And it’s already killed three people.”