CW:

Hallo! Talk of mass death and Rifts sinking into Blighted Oceans. And dying homes and their siblings. mhmhmhm!

Undreka tries not to show any emotions when we sit to talk with her. Door opened to her room and a bubble from the Manor up between us. But… her soul twitches in such an odd way. Like… When she saw my burns and stammers she was a little surprised, maybe even a touch sad. But also still willing to be really mean about them, even if part of her was wanting to do it to make me stop trying to understand her.

Now though? I dunno. Something she sees in me makes her pause. Maybe it’s her time alone to think but… she seems more messy about how she feels about me. Soul like a gurgling creek filled with angry frogs hopping in and out of the water. All the feels burping up at seemingly random times.

And that makes the Curse I wove for her hiss and dig deep into my sea-bed of a soul. The more I try to understand and ‘sympathize’ with Undreka, the more it bites.

The Fuzzy Fae nuzzles close. Still not trying to word things, but radiating worry and concern and… well, yeah. Love. It’s new and fresh and nothing like my Beloved’s or Jellyfish, but it’s there and the Spirit is happy to feel it while curling close. Like a big soft scarf or blanket about me, it even seems to stretch almost out of the mebe parts of my Amwella.

Between that and our Jellyfish and my Beloved’s letting me cling to their souls as the… the mucky memories from that Spirit gurgle up and sting and make me wanna find my Dark Goddess and beg her to rip and tear and claw away everything for–

[Safe.] The Fuzzy Fae murmurs so softly and gently. [None your fault.]

Jerking me from my mess with a surprised little Amwella meep in reply to its sudden words for me.

I’ve struggled to sleep. Found it impossible to… to relax or not twitch and jump at everything since the last Spirit’s bubbling up and attacking and… and the memories it left me.

Still so vibrant and real and biting and horrible and easy to both get lost in and hate myself for falling into. Tretion and Awnya are wonderful but… the Fuzzy Fae has been the best at reaching out and pulling me from spiraling into them. Nudging reminders or full on nibbled bites to jerk me from the horrid recollections of slaughter and cruelty.

With Furthonois… it wasn’t like that. She was kinda like me. Hurt and just… trying to find her happiness. Might have been a nice godling if not for how she’s been hurt and found within the Mantle. But her memories are just as glowy and consuming when I consider them. Which worries us.

What if I get more memories like this? How will it change me? Will… will I struggle to stay me? And are our Jellyfish getting them? They seem nothing but soft and sweet and not at all bothered or changed, but what if they are, and as they grow they… they get hurt by these memories too?

“So… What information can you provide?” Tretion asks after a long silence, stopping me from doing anything but nuzzling the Spirit back into the soft fuzziness as we wait for Undreka to answer.

Tretion and Awnya explained things to Undreka while I sat quietly. Not all of it. But… enough for their questions to be understood, and also so I can see if she’s lying when answers are given.

She pulls eyes away from my stinging Curse to consider our Watcher. “More than some, less than others. But… This one has been stirring the Sapana since I first met her. Drawing all manner of old buried things to rise to the surface.”

Tretion shakes her head, but with a wibble of head tendrils and consideration of my Amwella. “How can we help her?”

Undreka considers us all before replying. “If you’re willing to risk your own safety and leave a Rift to drown, keep her here. Continue to oppose the wretched Spirits with gentler regard. They may be numerous, but they are not endless.”

We all snap up to stare at her.

“W– what?” Awnya hisses, “What do you mean, leave a Rift to drown?”

Undreka shrugs, but can’t stop a strange mix of mirth and anger from touching her lips. “Theradas, and all those Rifts that relied on its Godling’s Hearthflame, will quickly find itself drug into the Blighted ocean.”

Swept into my Beloved Sea? That…

I consider the Rift that became my home, at least in part. Imagine all the wretched sorts and all the enslaved souls and… and the sand and spice just… gone. Forever. Melted away to tasty Blight and Rot.

Ruin forever.

“Dreamer’s Tits…” Awnya whispers. “They… That’s why the Fae put up with them. Don’t even consider trying to overthrow the Godthings. The mantles are unstable as is AND if they are lost the… all the Rifts aside from the Fae Wood would be lost.”

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Tretion seethes. “That must be why the Fae Spirit demanded Lyra return. It knew what the cost of her remaining here would be.”

The Fuzzy Fae nuzzles closer, murpling in odd ways. Not agreeing but… feeling guilty. For both the attack and the consequences of failing and… other things. Lots of wordless pains it’s struggling to even begin sharing. So I hug it close and give it the same words it gave me.

Safe. None your fault!

It melts a bit at that, and settles into little whimpers of surprise and love at my returned understanding.

“How long does Theradas and the other Rifts have?” Awnya asks.

“Last I felt that Rift beneath my feet, I’d have guessed a year at most before it sinks.” She considers, “Less for the Rifts around it.”

“Dreamer’s Tits.” Our Fae spits again. “We… We have to warn them. Or the Fae. Get them to organize some kind of escape for all the souls there!”

Can’t stop a wiggle of tendrils at how our wonderful Fae doesn’t even bleed a bit of thought that I should go back and try to live there and risk my happiness for that cruel Rift.

Undreka raises an eyebrow. “The Fae and Godlings are aware of this.”

“Then… they’re doing that? Right? Pulling souls from Theradas to safer Rifts.” Awnya presses.

“Last I was aware, your kin were devoted to finding Lyra.” The former Reaver nods to me. “And the Godlings were settling back into their Rifts. They might pick and tear at the carcass of the dying, but… Theradas was not home to the most valuable of souls. Dreadweave often dumped those they found undesirable into that place.”

Awnya hugs me close and rests her chin on the top of my head. Thoughts racing in worry and annoyance at that. Amwella a mess.

“But… That all aside.” Tretion shakes her head, breaking the silence. “What is your brood? Really? What is Thendra? You said these children are hers. But they can sing. Swim through the Blight as easy as their mother.”

Undreka, so suddenly it makes me flinch a bit, grins as her soul dances in predatory motions. “That, is a dangerous question to ponder, Matron Tretion.”

“We have Fae and Godlings and apparently errant Reavers hunting us, Undreka.” My Beloved quirks an eyebrow and presses. “Are you going to answer or not?”

Undreka glares off and away. “No.”

“Wh– why?” I ask.

Undreka remains still, but her Amwella twists in discomfort when my Curse bites. As she sees me seeing how much her own memories hurt her too. How little she understands what she’s feeling and wanting and how she’s questioning everything we ever knew.

“Because it’s not important. Not anymore.” She rumbles softly. “You have all claimed her clutch as yours, gifted them warmth and life and promises of a future without expectations or limits. And… because I’m not sure myself what we were. Only what she chooses us to be.”

Before my Beloveds can reply, I’m whispering. “R– Reaver.”

Undreka nods carefully. “Yes. Words and temperament are a well-cultivated thing she mantles as easily as you wear your clothes. To look beneath them is… unwise. But know that her form is as shiftable as mine, more so. Even.”

“That seems like terrible advice.” Our Watcher narrows eyes while half-glaring. “What benefit is there in not understanding our foe?”

Foe? Enemy? W- with Thendra? The idea makes me shiver in such terror. No matter how much I… I knew it could come to this. If she wasn’t willing to let me or our children go. So much that Awnya moves to curl closer about me. Humming calming melodies and through them asking if I’m okay.

“Mebe p– parts of h– her S– soul.” I murmur. “D– don’t want to m– make bubble up.”

Undreka nods, and Awnya seems to gather a little understanding. But our Brilliant Watcher’s Amwella is all wriggling alongside her head tendrils as she seems to chew on the idea.

“Alright, let’s keep this simple then.” Our Beloved Fae considers. “What does the big cunt want? Longways, that is. She’s old and patient and smarter than pretty much everyone else we’ve dealt with.”

Undreka looks down, thinks on her words and thoughts and feelings long before speaking. “Oaths Kept. I don’t… have the memories to pair with the anger I felt. But… These children break older Promises. Things I don’t remember the words to, but seethe with anger over.”

“You’ve spoken to her since Lyra last saw you.” Tretion presses. And it’s not a question.

I wince at how Undreka’s soul wibbles in acknowledgement before she nods. “I was there in the Fae Wood, was the second to strike, and even interrogated the Huntress who was tracking Awnya.”

I go still. Undreka helped protect Awnya?

“Why?” Awnya murmurs. “Why go back to her? Why help her?”

“I was hoping for answers. But… Only got them when I came here. After I left her behind in Theradas. Why she was feeding our brood to Lyra. Why she groomed her to consume that wretched godling’s mantle” The not Reaver sighs. “The answer lies writhing about her soul.”

“And what answers did Thendra want from this Fae?” Tretion adds.

“If she actually knew where this new Godling was.” Undreka shrugs. “She didn’t. Which means the Fae at large don’t.”

“But Thendra told you where to find her?” Awnya presses.

Undreka glances between us, then smiles. “You still don’t know how I got here? Do you?”

“It was going to be one of my questions.” Tretion's nods, bringing her head noodles to still their wriggles. “Not from the… maybe parts, as Lyra calls them. That was just where you hid. But you somehow bypassed outer gates and wards that even I can only barely understand how they work.”

“It’s sister let me slip through.”

“I… What?” Tretion hisses. “Sister?”

The former Reaver laughs, but not cruelly. More in wribbling satisfaction. Maybe… glad to have a good answer? “This place is one of a brood, and some even remember their siblings. An entrance to this other sits within your late Grandmother’s home in Theradas.”

Both I and Awnya freeze as memories of twisting sea-shell pathways that reverberated song dance through our soul’s memories.

“The Rorliras?” Awnya whispers. “It’s like this place? We… My dad was always told it was just weird tunnels, odd old types long dead from the Dream burrowed between Rifts. Dangerous if allowed to unfold but more sleepy than anything else.”

Undreka nods. “Each rests or hides in different places, but Thendra had us help find a shard of that one. Coax it into unfolding for the late Matron of Watchers at the promise of long hidden treasures within and us as her favored hunting pack to claim them.”

I shiver at the memories of that place. Endless echoing songs and wretched edges and… and worse. How much that place seemed to groan with pain.

“Thendra once told Lyra that her own home was similar to this place…” Tretion muses, already skipping ahead of mine and Awnya’s racing thoughts.

“Similar as a dying beast to healthier kin.” Undreka shrugs. “Her’s cannot reach us, last I knew. And the one the Matron claimed had to be coaxed and bribed into letting me find the right passage. Gifted a bounty of unstolen Boulflame.”

“B– but…” I whisper. “Th– th– Then– dra could follow s– same p– path thr– rhough? C– come here?”

Undreka nods.

And I am nothing but afraid at the worry I see tearing through her soul at that admission.