CW:

Attempt to soul feast and spirit control and talk of spirit control and memories of spirits being cruel.

Despite everything… of course it’s Thendra’s words that bubble through my mind as I try to kill these two stupid spirits.

It’s not a conflict of the flesh.

Where the Fuzzy Fae is all a flood of angry fur, and the weird Everflame spirit was boiling malice, these things are… so weird. Twinned horrid dancers that sway and leap and glide to the unspoken tune of my attacks. Just barely able to avoid them. Kept away by my endless sea of Naranggas from our core but…

Getting closer with every beat.

Need to find the melody. Change the tune.

Crush and bite and tear these stupid horrid spirits apart! Get back home!

So I begin to growl and howl my Shrike of The End. A song that was perfect last time these shadows tried to eat me. My Fuzzy Fae growls a bit in worry, but our Jellyfish giggle and yip their enjoyment for my Dreadsong.

Spirits stumble in their hunt, try to get their feet and move to the song. But… It’s mine, and I can feel where the soon to be dead will be standing when they find my workings end.

Twist, half of my everything into one big tendril, slam into it with so much death that it splatters into nothing quickly! Follow the momentum, spin, let the song bubble faster, catch the second and–

Twins of heart and soul curls close as we perch atop our home and consider this city. Enjoy so much the sweet smell of the waves and the little melodies dancing through the air. Weavings of the songs of the Fae mingled with the tunes of the–

Stumbling, hissing, barely keeping the song going. Not from anything cruel about the memory. But… but of how much it hurts to understand it. Then senses focus on the Spirit I just barely missed as it cackles and scuttles toward us to take advantage of the hiccup in my attacks and–

Endless rivers twist about the glowing tree at the middle of it all. Deep as the oceans at the edges but filled with all kinds of life! But… then something changes. We all feel it. A crack splitting through everything and everyone as the–

Fuzzy Fae is holding it back as best it can, but those mouth hands are slerping up the bristling fur like some delicious drink as the jaws snap and are just barely kept away from my–

Our time comes when the godling’s slave plunged a blade dripping with soul death into the neck of the Godling. He’s weeping and doesn’t understand why or what’s happening, blubbering everything from apologies for the Mistress he was broken into loving and hating, to spitting curses.

So we take up his knife and bury it in the heart and Amwella. Without words begin to engorge on the souls of the past Godling of Theradas and the little slave before he can fully consume the mantle. Split the feast and stand at each other’s back when old shadows rise up and–

Jellyfish swarm its neck. Biting and hissing and causing it to reel back. And with a howl I finally manage to get two Naranggas about the thing’s neck and pull it apart. Drowning us all in the Shrike of Dream’s End as the spirit begins to melt under the weight of my song.

Old memories begin to bubble and bite. About to drown me in worse things than the first as together their cruelty was a gorgeous harmony that help crack at the…

The…

Where am I?

Sit up and look around as the memories drift away like so much dry sand. Dissolved by the echoing Dreadsong as it fades. Leaving me with just myself, the Fuzzy Fae, my Jellyfish, and… the forest around us?

Fuzzy Fae whimpers and shivers in fear. Scurries back into the mebe parts of my soul and curls tight about itself. Trembling and bubbling and trying to push away the memories we just drank up.

I sit there for a while. Nuzzling it and our seemingly unbothered Jellyfish as I try to understand where we are and what… like… happened?

Because… How did we get into the forest at the edge of Theradas?

I glance back. Can… kinda see the desert? Mebe? But it’s so far away and how did… Did I even get here? We didn’t Riftwalk or move! Just… just…

Fought the stupid spirits. Sang my Shrike to kill it and mebe melt away the bad memories before they got to us and–

Something moves, cutting off my thoughts, and I’m on my feet and almost hissing as I see the third spirit.

She slithers and glides through the air with such grace, as pretty as I remember, even with all the broken scales and scars and tears and shaking. Smaller than when I killed her too, closer to my size now.

Like… she was in the first memories I got from her.

Furthonois. Keshada. Woman of the Six Ways and previous Godling of Theradas that I killed to protect my Awnya.

She stops, just within range of my tendrils. Only two eyes this time, and both a much more dull shade of maroon than in life. And… after a few seconds greets very carefully after I don’t say anything. [Hello, Lyra.]

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“F– furth– th– tho– nois.” I growl but… it’s mostly in warning.

[Yes. I… Am hoping we can come to some kind of an arrangement? One that doesn’t end with me being torn apart or driven back into…] Glances into the shadows, seems to still a bit in disgust. [That place.]

“Wh– why?” I tilt my head and ask.

She sighs and shrugs. [Because it is wretched. And I’d rather not meet the two you just killed within those depths.]

They… Dreamer’s Tits. They’re not gone forever? Just… just sent back inside the shadows!?!

I hiss and curse wordlessly. She flinches and glides back at my anger and fear. So I take a breath and calm a bit.

[I spent almost three centuries bearing this mantle, and am willing to offer knowledge and memories and all other… services.] Furthonois replies after I’ve steadied.

She trails off, looks down at her form. Eyes widen a bit.

I don’t… what? Of all the horrid and cruel spirits SHE is the one who wants to… to talk? To try to help me?

[Please.] She whispers when I don’t move or speak and seems… even more desperate.

“G– good at L– lying.”

She nods, but with a smirk, [I am a Mistress of masks and performances. Yes. You’d be a fool to trust me on promises alone. But you bear the ability to read me clearly. Taste any falsehood or wretched ambition within my schemes. So…] Then she spreads her thin and almost… frail arms.

An invitation to envelope her soul and feel her thoughts and intentions.

I stare for a while longer. Worried that… that this is a trap. A trick to hurt me or… or something?

But if my Naranggas are things she can hurt easily… wait. WAIT!

“V– venom.” I spit.

She looks back up, quirks an eyebrow. [That was woven from my flesh. Even if I could use it as I am, which I cannot, you’ve already proven to be more than capable of handling it. At my most potent even.]

I chew on that, eventually murmuring. “N– no attack. O– or… an– anything. B– be s– still. Oke?”

Furthonois nods, then drifts down and… and presses her forehead to the floor. Spreads arms out in front of herself.

Can’t help but hiss. “No.”

She twists to look up, a bemused smile quirking at her lips. [Oh?]

“N– not sl– slave.” I growl.

[If it’s a choice between being your creature or returning to the Well. I choose your gentle cruelties.] She smirks.

“N– no.” I snap. “Just… n– no. Up.”

[As you wish.] She gracefully twists and floats to rise again.

Then I walk forward, reach out a tendril to hover just a bit away from Furthonois. She nods and spreads arms again. I look to my Fuzzy Fae. Who seems to be settled and healing and watching. Bubbles with being okay with this.

So I carefully wind a Naranggas about the spirit of the previous Godling of Theradas, pulling my core close and…

Fear. Woven and kept from bubbling past her playful confidence. Terror of me and the shadows and other things. A little anger but… it’s not sharp just… there. Because I killed her. And… hmm… but also hope? Tangled with something else I need to…

Oh.

The memories I got from her flitter into my thoughts. How her old flesh used to shift to match the body hungers of those around her. But… when I met them her form only changed when they demanded Awnya from me and… but…

“Y– you… th– they. H– how many? Before? W– were inside?” I whisper.

Her face goes blank. Is still pretty but… no longer trying to pretend. [Almost two dozen at the most, but… there was always a struggle. For a place outside the Well. Eventually things settled to about a ten or so.]

I wince, then whisper my worry. “H– how d– did you f– fight them?”

Because if the Venom only hurts things of flesh and not spirit…

She tenses, does a pretty and graceful version of a shrug. [Well fed I could resist the smaller ones but otherwise… I mostly didn’t. Not when the stronger ones arose.]

I taste the truth in her words, then feel the echoes of a memory stir...

Vicious things bubbling up and crashing into her spirit. Tearing and biting and burrowing and nesting and–

She stares blankly into my eyes, says nothing.

But her everything is dribbling very clearly. Even if she’s currently trying to not think too much about what I’m finding within her. How… how Furthonois fought so hard for her happiness. Might have even tried to be a kinder Godling to a city drowning in terrible things. Then… then spirits started bubbling up and eventually she couldn’t fight them and…

And she, in many ways, became a slave again.

But now to horridly cruel spirits that she could not kill or escape or even die to. How… how while she learned to avoid twisting to fit the desires of those around her, she couldn’t do the same to the spirits that dug into her Amwella and buried themselves so deep she struggled to separate herself from–

“Oke.” I whisper, and pull away.

[Okay?] She asks, and I don’t need to touch her to recognize the little spark of hope flickering in her eyes again.

Deep breath.

Ask the Fuzzy Fae if it would be okay with what I’m feeling. I… I expect it to growl and hiss and be upset. Gnash or… or be annoyed or…

But it nuzzles me back and radiates agreement. Seems to even calm at my idea.

Another deep breath, and I nod. “Can st– stay. I w– will protect. Y– you talk w– with B– b– beloveds. A– answer questions.”

Furthonois’ mask of playful calm returns, and she nods. [I will answer any questions you or your allies may have. Gift you all my knowledge and understanding. Even the little magic I learned. If you keep me safe from the wretched things that will come from the Well to eat us both.]

I sigh and look around. “First. W– where are we?”

She glances about. Takes it all in. [By sensation and sight alone… Possibly Fae Woods from how oddly it twists. But… You’d know better than I. The only time I was able to visit any of the Fae realms was the day of my ascension. Drug there by my fellow godlings and forced to affirm Oaths.]

That… what? I mean… It's kinda familiar. But it smells off! Not wrong but… weird?

“But… Was j– just in Th– Theradas. D– desert.” I mumble while looking about. “N– need to g– go home.”

[Last I knew you had that flexible little Riftwalk.] She presses.

I nod, then focus. Begin to twist my Reaver’s Riftwalk to tear a path backways to the tower in Theradas and… and it fails again. Even worse than before!

Like it’s smothered. There is still the song, still the magic, but… nothing else!

“D– Dre– dreamers T– TITS!” I spit, let my Naranggas writhe in anger and annoyance the beginning of fear.

[Quite.] Furthonois murmurs in agreement to my frustrations. [I always assumed the Wards within the Fae Wood only kept outsiders from entering, not leaving.]

I nod. Look to my Fuzzy Fae. Wribble questions.

But it’s just… huh.

“N– not F– Fae wo– ood?” I ask aloud.

It nods.

[That seems… Well there are plenty of strange wooded Rifts about.] Furthonois muses. [None close to Theradas, mind you. We got the barren wastelands and boiling pits and such. Barely enough water to drink, much less supply anything this lush.]

I turn and glance back. Spot the desert’s midnight hues past the farthest trees.

Begin to walk.

“S– still in Theradas.” I whisper softly.

Starting to understand.

[Oh? Has so much changed between your ascension and my end?] She glides along beside me, smirking playfully but… feeling honestly curious.

“S– sinking.” I answer.

Eyes narrow in confusion. [Sinking? What?]

“I left. O– only c– came back to s– save sl– slaves.” I whisper, realizing that she can hear even my softest words. Which me using will make us talking easier.

Furthonois pauses, then can’t help but laugh nervously. [You… How? Why? The Fae and must be furious about that.]

“D– don’t care.” I shrug. “H– haven’t r- r- really m– met any b– but o- one s– since...”

Since the day I lost my Beloved.

[Ah… Well how does that explain where we are now?] She asks, obviously pulling our words away from the topic of the girl they tried to kill.

“S– sinking. Blight coming closer.”

The inevitable arrival of Dream’s End.

[Yes, that was explained to me. Why I must forever remain within my Rift, save the most brief of trips elsewhere. But…]

I huff, consider turning and running the other way and swimming home once I find the sea but…

That could take a few eternities, and my Beloveds are probably so worried!

“We’re in my old home.” I whisper so softly I doubt anyone but the spirits within my soul can hear me. “Dead Dreamer’s Woods.”