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Lamentations of The Dead Dreamer
Chapter 132: The Distance Between Warforms

Chapter 132: The Distance Between Warforms

CW:

WOW. Big fight time. Soul fighting and blighting and feathers stabbing souls and memories of running and fear of family hurting and killed. memory loss.

[Lyra…] Furthonois huffs.

Ignore her.

The Fae try to help the godthing with their own singing, adding extra weight and nipping fury to the attack. Another gust of cold blizzard winds bellow out from Awnya’s melody. Jellyfish gurgle and growl and hiss and–

Focus on the Song.

Another roar of flame and dancing of feathers split and slice at the edges of my melody. Forcing me to restart in that flash of fear and distraction.

IGNORE THEM!!!

Already messed up. Put us in SO much danger.

Need to get us home.

But the Song keeps getting sliced apart by all these stupid feathers!!!

I flinch, and the melody is ruined again as Raska’s Spark darts past my right shoulder. Naranggas nearly loses grip on the stupid Fae I’m holding and not killing and...

[Running isn’t an option.] Furthonois presses, twisting to glide before my eyes. [Lyra, this is Your Rift. Your domain. And even if Ukalon came here in full strength, which I very much doubt they have, you are stronger here!]

That makes me pause my song, look past the spirit and my lover’s angry castings and…

[If Dreadweave was coming, it would have arrived before even them.] The former godthing purrs with a wicked smirk. [But they are alone and backed by Fae who will not kill. So…]

“C– can’t…” I huff and cough.

[You very much can.]

“B– but… n– no R– ri– rift w– w– wa–…”

[Mayhaps not out from this Rift, but… within? Yes. Yes you can.] She hisses. [Fold your Rift and pull yourself to the prey. Shift.]

My lovers… explained the difference. Between a Riftwalk and a Shift. How the first could hop between Rifts and the second can’t go beyond the one you’re in. And… and how somehow mine was always strong enough to do both quick enough I never cared to understand the subtle twistings of the song.

“B– but…”

Tretion is the only one to hear my words between aiming and loosing her stave’s angry burps to keep the more brave Fae and feathers back.

Glances back in worry.

Sees my confliction.

“Beloved.” She calls out through the chaos around us.

I jerk to face her. Don’t even try to speak. Just… convey everything I can through my eyes.

She smiles gently, but says nothing.

Soul aglow with hope and love and confidence. Worry is there. Honestly more than that. Very real terror. But…

Oh.

She trusts me.

I nod, turn my gaze past her.

Glare at the weird feathery Godling.

[Yeeees…] Furthonois hisses gently. [Show these fools just how much of a mistake it was to threaten what is yours.]

Focus.

Tune the Reaver’s Riftwalk to just this place. This Rift. My Rift. Twist the melody in smaller ways. Tear and rip and consume the two Fae in my Naranggas grip. Use the flair of feasting warmth to spark my songs to blaze as bright as they can.

Ukalon tilts head in curiosity, feathers adjusting to swirl back and–

But I’m already moving.

Already gone.

Already behind.

Behind, spin, twist, reform and…

CRACK.

Half my Naranggas merged into a single big limb slice through three Fae. Tearing their souls out while six others barely pull back in time. Gobbling up their soul flame and having to fight a shivering pleasure from such warm song drown souls whimpering as they feel Dream’s End.

But my main target is moving too. Shifting behind and up and away. I slice the edges of their soul though. Tear feathery nonsense away in a howl of fury as they run. So I dig the teeth of the growling song into the Rift, and I’m using the weight of Theradas to throw myself after them.

Ukalon’s Shifts are like fluttering cloth on angry winds. Not quick but… reactive. Just fast enough to move just before I would land a lethal blow.

Grinning the first two Shifts back across the rooftops of Theradas, big soul almost… a chorus of united thoughtpaths mingling together in playful enjoyment?

But after three more Shifts and me catching a bigger chunk of their soul to jerk away…

Their joy wavers. Tilts into annoyance. Like a cascade rippling across and through all the distinct spirits within this godling.

Grin doesn’t falter though as they skip and dance away from my every strike.

Need to go faster!

So I use the old trick and Shift upwards and away, adjust to aim downways, fall as fast as I can.

Doesn’t matter if they’re out of sight.

I can see everything here in my Rift. Even…

Huh.

Shift to slip through the old Temple.

Flying over the corpse me and my city left to rot, and all the skulls and coins and weird… things they left piled all around. But I can’t worry about them now.

A small tendril snatches up my prize, surprised it's still here and not stolen away. Shove as much Amwella through the blade as it can handle without breaking.

Then I’m launching at Ukalon again.

All my Naranggas but one swirling into the largest tendril I’ve ever woven and swinging with the weight of all the speed I could gather up.

The godthing Shifts away. Still smirking while the soul and what must be a hundred Spirits within has fallen into steady annoyed untied focus.

Only sees my trap when I’ve already Shifted the screaming blade to the spot they’ve half tried to escape to.

Little Naranggas writhes up after the sword is buried up to the hilt in Amwella and flesh. Wrapping all about to pin them in place so I can Shift after them and spin biggest Naranggas around and–

The… almost huffing growl of spite hits just after my Reaver instincts howl for me to move. Pull my young close and shield them from any and all danger! My flesh and core is away… but… tendrils can’t untangle before endless feathers sprout from the Godthing’s soul and bite them back before–

Pain. So much Dreamer blighted pain.

And a muddled Shift that just barely slows my speed.

Then more pain as my flesh cracks across the sandstone tiled floor and wall. But… it’s not as bad as the screams that come from my Amwella.

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Too much. The pain is more than anything ever that even a Dark Goddess laid upon my–

And… nothing. For a while. Just cold tendrils and memories of oblivion and a beloved sea while all of me bleeds.

Jellyfish nuzzles and coos are the first things I understand after that.

Already singing little gurgling songs of healing for their broken mother’s body and soul.

Fuzzy Fae has tumbled out and is hissing warning while wrapping about my Amwella and children.

[It doesn’t matter! We need her up, Kujdestar.] Urges a hissing voice. [The cunt has probably already fallen into a prepared corpse and is looking for her!]

A reply. Not with words. Focused growling things that kinda hurt to think about.

I gurgle and growl and fight to rise. Trying to focus things into a healing song.

But the curse bites really hard.

Makes it impossible to move for a bit. So I slump back to the floor and try really hard to weave the best and most quick healing song I can. Finally focus enough to see how torn up my soul is. Biggest Naranggas swirled back into many but… they’re all broken and bleeding. Little one that carried the blade is entirely gone. And… and all throughout me is–

More pain.

Feathers buried in my soul like knives. Trying to sink deeper and deeper and beginning to grow roots.

Deep breath.

Need to get them out!

Or…No.

Pretty spiced smell reminds me of what Awnya said about these.

Need to melt them out.

So I murple to my Jellyfish and Fuzzy Fae to keep us safe, and focus on the song. Try to ignore the curse’s bite.

Hum Fear and Pain and Spite and the Dream’s End to call Blight into my soul. Wash clean the wretched feathers. Burn them in the Song and Rot and worse still.

Furthonois sputters out more things, but… I need to ignore her. Because these stupid feathers start growing back unless they are fully melted and… and there are a lot and I have to spend so much on just burning bits to stop them from spreading too close to me or my Jellyfish or the Fuzzy Fae.

By the time I’m able to focus past it all and understand things about me…

[Lyra, we need to move.] Furthonois calls out as I’m pushing myself up to sit and lean against the closest… thing. Wall? Pillar?

Everything outside that isn’t Amwella sight is so blurry and tilted and wrong.

Ignore her. Focus past. Looking for…

Hiss in fury.

“Well wasn’t that just… so unexpected?” Purrs a horrid voice.

Don’t even bother to jerk and watch as the godthing slips from behind a Rift. New small pretty form shrouded in hundreds of feathers. Just… have my Naranggas sprout bladed toothed warnings as I pour more of myself into… into trying get these feathers off!

“If I’m being honest, I’m delighted to see how you’ve grown, little Blight Weaver.” Ukalon murmurs happily while taking slow steps closer. “No wonder the Fae want you cracked open like some poor beached clam to drink the nectar within.”

Still too many! And… and they burn and bite and now that she’s here it’s… they’re digging faster and I… I can’t…

The godthing pauses just outside my shortened tendril’s weak flip flops of warning. Their Amwella burning with patience and deep willingness to watch a rival bleed before pouncing. Can see how hard it is to burn away these feathers and keep a tendril free to keep them away.

Amwella a pleased chorus of delight at the outcome they see, and know I feel.

From the depths of my fear and pain and… and everything else I can’t help but whisper to the dark shard deep within my core.

Please… Help.

A plea to my Dark Goddess.

Fuzzy Fae spills out more. Hissing and trying to help bite and tug at some of the roots while my children hiss and growl songs of healing to try and keep up with the bite of these stupid feathers.

Please! I whimper harder to the shard. Don’t you love them? Want to keep them safe? This… Ukalon will eat them! The Fae will unmake them or… or worse!

But… Like always and before there is no answer. No crackling of Rift or Shift to herald the arrival I both dread and long for. So… I gurgle and growl my song harder. Draw in more blight, more rot, more… MORE!

Fill myself with all the pain and spite and fear I can. Mush the Blight and Rot to drown my everything. Drink so much I… I’m starting to feeeeeel….

Nose and mouth and eyes and everything filling and gushing and burning with the spiced scent of Theradas.

Ukalon hisses and lifts a hand to direct more feathers to shoot toward me. Smug confident belief that they won cracking into worry even as their new attack strikes my core and tendrils. Each extension a blazing spear of horrid pain that pins my Amwella to the dirt so they can watch me bleed and die just like…

Heart rotting memories of my dad killing me oozes from my core. Dances and blazes like flame across parchment over my soul.

Jellyfish giggle and yip in delight at the feast within. Nuzzling close at this eruption of our ocean into the Dream.

Flesh blighting recollections of my sibling and Awnya’s dad and so many others kindle the blaze to tear and bite and begin to melt anything and everything within me that isn’t…

And all around us my Shrike of Dream’s End howls.

Ruined happiness.

“Oh.” Is all the word this big soul gets before I’m once again sinking regrowing Naranggas into my Rift’s deepest core.

Screaming all this pain into everything around me, and throwing us forward.

Sea-Bed of a soul already an ocean of Blight and Rot sinking endless talons and teeth and claws to rip the godthing apart.

And like a big tree falling on a scary panther…

Ride my prey to the forest floor while sinking my everything into their–

Almost drowning… sucks. But at least the ocean seems to be doing that to this weird forest instead of me now. Didn’t even like… see the trees as the waves tossed me about and strange monsters nibbled at my toes.

My everything is cold though. Shivering and naked and…

Don’t look down.

Ignore it all. Easy. Focus on surviving alone. Just… keep walking. Remember the lessons dad ta–

Running. Run. Get away from the memories and the idea that maybe he’s still hunting me. Can’t even hear the yelling and cursing so I have to have gotten away.

R– right?

I slip a bit, stumble a few times and bonk more bruises onto my everything. But… don’t care. Stupid body was always wrong.

Don’t CARE if it gets torn up.

Keep moving.

Looking for…

Then I hear it again. That… really REALLY pretty song.

A thing of life and love and promises of becoming everything I dream to have and be!

So I keep running through this really pretty forest towards the rising melody.

Ukalon’s gone. But… Not dead, I think? Just… slipped away down some weird hole in their soul like before. Weird corpse puppet thing beneath me still and cold.

Naranggas are already regrowing from the feast of soulflame I tore free of them. All the feathers have melted away. And… that memory.

My first time finding the edge of the Dead Dreamer’s Wood and chasing the Fae Song.

But… I'm so tired.

Forest floor around me seems a perfect place to… to…

[Lyra…?] Furthonois whispers gently and glides into view. [Dear? You’re… you’re okay. The godthing won’t come back after that. Not without Dreadweave at their back. Especially with how you managed to hurt their core with that Warform.]

W– Warform? What’s… What’s she talking about?

Fuzzy Fae mupple soft agreements though… and snuggles. Still outside the mebe parts of my soul and curled tight about my nuzzling Jellyfish and me.

Right. Doesn’t matter.

Need to find everyone.

Get us home.

I rise and look around the… the…

Grass and vines and trees spread all about me and the dead body.

I’m back in the forest?

But when I look back and around I see sandstone and pillars and twistings of the city just a bit away. So I dash free very quickly. Look back and it’s like just an odd and kinda random grouping of vibrant life is sprouting up in the middle of this part of the city. But…

Despite feeling the Amwella of the Rift on the other side, when I look through I can’t see the rest of the city through the trees.

Just the deep forests.

[Well… isn’t that a problem? Seems that Warform has a few side effects that need to be considered.] Furthonois muses from my side.

Raska’s words tilt through my mind. How… She never saw my forest. Just a sandstorm?

Oh.

I look down and can see the grass and vines and roots and pretty forest spreading outwards pretty steadily.

Need to try and… and do something about this!

So I reach out with my Naranggas and song and everything to try and… and pull it all back into me. Swallow this stupid amount of Blight I vomited out onto this Rift so it won’t spread it and infect the people here!

Can’t Blight Theradas before we can save them!

It’s… a lot. Thousands times heavier than Tretion ever asked me to take in all at once. And it keeps dribbling and making me sputter as I reweave it into the simplest thing I know how to make.

Cool springwater like in the Fae Wood.

Just… turn this forest into a rush of soft cold sweet wet nonsense to soak the sand.

Takes… way too long. Enough time for me to be able to pull part of my attention away to reach out with my senses to feel for my Beloveds and Raska and…

Safe.

They skipped away to the far tower we claimed for this possible situation and are waiting. All are exhausted and a little bruised up, especially Awnya’s Amwella, but… No Fae. I think Raska burned any that didn’t run when I started attacking to death.

That helps me calm so much.

Finish this. Get my lovers. Go home.

Give them all my apologies and tell them all about this new Spirit who wants to help.

So… focus. Keep drinking in the Blight, weave it into soft and cool and gentle shapes.

It’s… a lot. The amount of water dumped randomly into this odd side passage of my Rift. But also not a lot because the sands seem to drink up the water quickly. Like some big scary but very thirsty badger.

Even draws a few curious people close to scoop up what they can before their fear of the forest or storm or… whatever they see gets too much. Eventually leaving me standing alone with a bit of water around my toes and pretty damp from the entire effort.

Still no Ukalon slicing their way back to try and fight me. Or the Fae.

Sigh and fight to not just… slump into sitting and resting for a bit. Curse’s bite hurting so much as my soul wiggles in renewed size but… so tired. But I push forward and instead I begin to reach out with my senses while beginning to prepare to sing my path to them and…

Wait.

Who… is that?

Such an odd… something. Outside of the home of a Dark Goddess I can’t help but check on. No Amwella but like… a reflection within the Dream and… weird. Really heavy, but like all that weight is balanced on the tip of a talon while something big looms without touching anything.

Ignore it. Thendra’s fine. It can’t hurt her, prolly just some weird–

Then it’s gone.

No.

Wait.

It’s…

Black glass. Forged over an eternity of focus to keep the twinned spirits I sense within safe from everything. Reaver instincts howl like nothing I’ve ever felt, causing me to jerk around to see…

A twisting mass of obsidian towers over me. Filling the space in front and behind. Totally silent and still. The identity of this thing is suddenly very clear to me from Awnya’s fearful descriptions.

The oldest Godthing.

Dreadweave.

And I’m In the grip of this monster’s jaws before I can begin my Reaver’s Riftwalk to move.

[Lyra run!] Furthonois hisses while her everything trembles in fear.

I do try. The melody is on my lips and I try to scream us away and free from this thing’s focus but…

The weight of this thing coils about us all like a snake. My Naranggas twisting and flexing death to shield me as my Shift screams to move us but… just like during my fight with Furthonois it pins me from escaping as sharp edges prick my Amwella.

Ignore Reaver instincts. Snatch up all my Jellyfish, Fuzzy Fae, and… and Furthonois.

Need to keep them safe.

Turn tendrils inside out for a second.

Keep all my promises.

Pull and tug and drag them all into the Mebe parts of my Amwella just before this thing crashes down over us.