CW:

Memory of bodies burned and eye damage to others from flame. PTSD from seeing others die.

Dead eyes. Some burned to stare while they melted, other’s popped, but… all glaring and so angry at me for helping kill them. Stinkin’ up the sands as Raska’s Spark chases off the ones Lyra didn’t tear apart or the Everflame didn’t burn.

Those eyes hate them too. But… not as much as they hate me.

The Fae who helped shove them to their Dream’s End and–

“Awnya?” My Beloved Watcher murmurs, and that pulls me from the mud of it. Alongside our little one’s nuzzling while cooing sounds of gentle worry.

The big cunt leads us through the spiraling mess like it’s not even tilting at all the wrong angles and only kept soft and such by my gentle songs of peace.

My Amwella twitches, hurts, but settles as I weave into my songs some soul healing and–

“Fine.” I half lie through my humming to her unspoken question. “Just… still got some smoke in my lungs, I think. Working it out.”

Before I realize it, she’s pressing a pouch of Springwater into my hands. “Drink.”

I don’t argue, let the cool waters swirl around the wordless melody I keep rumbling.

Reminding me of that old home by the beach dad and me liked to sleep at between trips. Of how his laugh would always rumble in tune with the waves and winds. His tears at hearing my first little songs of shaping.

And then the smell of his ashes I dug my fingers into the pile left behind as something inside me cracks to shatter like nothing I’ve ever felt.

“Thanks.” I huff and hand her back the pouch as I glare up at the big cunt’s back.

Everything cleared a bit more.

Push the mess inside away and… quiet my songs of healing.

“How much farther?” I demand.

“That depends on how much the Fae used this place.” She replies.

“I… What?”

The Fae didn’t seem to like… know or care about closing this place from what Lyra could sense.

“Can you not feel it?” Is the big cunt’s reply.

“Feel what?” Tretion presses.

“It has been roused to bleed itself into a Rift.” Thendra answers.

I go a bit cold at that, glance over to Tretion to see her head tendrils wiggling in some fierce anxious patterns.

“I was told this place is a sibling to my home. Able to weave new spaces from nothing but inspired soulflame.” My Watcher murmurs. “ I simply assumed the Fae would try to burn back the Blight and weave from the ashes but… They mean to use this place? Don’t they? Like they mean to use Lyra? Break them both into crafting a new Fae Wood that’ll never end so long as the two of them are mingled.”

Thendra pauses at one of the many infinite crossways. Glancing about like she’s considering both which path to take and Tretion’s words.

“Wait… How could they have all this set up and ready to go? Know how to tame a Rorliras to obey them?” I ask. “It was taking us weeks and weeks to just… figure out how to get this place to close one little exit.”

A pause, and just when I’m about to press the cunt for answers…

Songs dance down the tunnels.

“Dreamer’s Tits.” I spit. “We gotta be careful fighting here. Any rough songs or blaze will get tossed right back in our faces.”

“And soulflame spilt will rouse this beast to greater fury.” The big cunt replies, then glances back to aim such a cruel grin at us. “If they see me they will risk this place’s anger to delay us.”

“Then what do we–”

But she’s already moving. Faster than a cunt her size should and with an ease that sets my skin to crawl but…Then she’s perched in a twisting pathway that circles over us. Still within easy view to me and these two.

Not to the three Fae that step from behind a curve though. Following careful songs of echoes and tracking.

“Heya.” I sigh with a smirk. “Don’t suppose you lot can cool your tits and give us–”

But they’re already twisting out into new shapes covered in claws, fangs, writhing tails, and a few spines that seem to drip venom.

“Ah. Well that’s a shame.” I huff and grip my dagger tighter, beginning to increase the Amwella I’m gifting it.

Tretion keeps her stave quiet in respect to my warnings, but Raska growls. That spark of hers tittering in anticipation of a fight but…

I reach out and guide us back a few steps, whistling a tune of request to this place. A thing to ask it to wiggle and twist about to dump some rude sorts down a long downways passage.

But the trick my dad taught us doesn’t work. In fact the place seems to hiss and twist opposite. The passage slipping to more solid shapes that let these hunting Fae prowl forward without even a worry of falling away.

So I try to weave in songs of pleading and warning. Nearly desperate things to the three.

Not for me or Tretion or Raska. Between us we could knock these Fae to the dirt. But… because I can’t help but see that same empty void glimmering in the big cunt’s eyes as she waits. Not like some great predator of the deepest and most cruel places either.

A storm devoid of anything, save the emotionless fury it means to dump on all the stupid gooses who don’t take shelter before it strikes.

Then the Fae pass beneath her shadow.

And it's too late.

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“Little Sparrow…” I hear the words my dad gave me one night atop a Rift’s highest tower, a spot that overlooks some grand half abandoned city. “Someday, somehow, doing the work we do and bumping into dangerous sots that seem to abound… someone will probably die. And you’re gonna blame yourself. Which won’t be true or probably fair to you, but even knowing that won’t soften the ache overmuch.”

One Fae’s head and neck crack beneath Thendra’s grip before–

A little flitter song of my replying melody of question and worry to him mingles with the stabbing pain. “Oh… So, What do then?”

The second is also dead before they can even begin to wonder who’s very almost torn them in half from shoulder to hip with ridiculously terrifying strength. Blood gushing forth to soak the stark-white shell twisting floor.

He grimaced in what I now understand to be pain brought from memories dancing through him in that moment. His bitter sigh a thing only understood by a man who personally struggled with his own visions of dead eyes and the hateful guilt bubbling up behind them.

“Well that’s the tricky part. Sometimes you might hop past the pain right quick and only get a touch blighted every so often when the memories crack through. Nothing to worry over. But… if this person was a kinder sort caught between bad melodies, that’s where it hurts more.”

Third Fae actually makes an effort to strike back with a triad of tails spinning with venomous barbs. But… of course the big cunt just wrangles them all into a big hand’s grip, totally unbothered by the sting of it all, while the other wraps about their face.

Quick step to the wall, and she’s slammed them into it.

And three more souls are ripped from the Dream because of my actions.

How… how many does that make now?

Dead eyes of memory and present flesh rotting in front of me pop open to glare.

Too many. Dreamer’s Tits. I… I needed to keep my Beloveds and our children and Raska safe from the gaggle but… but why did they need to die? Why couldn’t I be better?

Faster?

How many more will I let die because–

“Beloved.”

Only one set of flesh eyes now, and the love they brim with pulls me from the muck.

“I… fine.” I rasp and cough. “We should move. The lack of songs could be like a scream to others running about.”

My Watcher’s eyes and head tendrils writhe in worry, but she nods. Then takes up my hand and leads me past and over the corpses.

Thendra’s already moved on. Faster than before and with a pace that wasn’t there before.

Focus. Can’t let this muck ta–

“No, Little Sparrow. You’re eating of living bugs and such before your songs shouldn’t bother you.” He’d chuckled happily while my growing form perched happily on his forearm. “The issue is your new ability to hear and move to the wider Dream’s songs. Flames may die and sputter and rekindle, but for you to involve yourself with the ending of someone’s part in the wider things reverberates back. Hopefully so little you hardly notice if it happens, but…”

I’d shuffled side-stepped over to nuzzle his soft beard and cheek, chirping little wordless things of love and support and… and listening. Understanding now what little melodies he was trying to show and warn me about.

“I hear my dad’s everything hitch and catch on the Ending songs.” Is what I told him. “Big hurts. Sorry sorry!”

“Yeah…” He’d leaned back into me, tears in his eyes. “Tunes and melodies for the folks I couldn’t save. Friends I lost. All hurt me, Little Sparrow. All are like weights about my neck. Someday… Someday they might be what causes my hoof to slip and send me tumbling out of this Dream. But not anytime soon. ‘Specially with you about.”

I’d chirped and sang and floofed my feathers so… something at that. Sad for my favorite person’s pain but… so happy I could help him.

It’s the little Jellyfish nuzzling and nibbling and cooing worried soft songs that pull me from the memory.

Raska is growling things. Spitting sparks and threats.

“Huh?” I murmur. Glancing about.

We’ve slowed. Tretion grips my arm as tendrils wrap almost… protectively about me. Our Everflame stands ahead and between us and Thendra.

The big cunt only glances back over her shoulder at us. Eyebrow quirked in amusement.

“Bitch wants us to split up.” Raska spits, not even looking back to us.

“I… what? Why? We have a deal.” I sputter, ice running down my spine at the worry that she’s just… just been waiting for now to break our agreement.

“More Fae, and of greater weight, approach.” She supplies. “The pathway to my Lyra is singular and easy to follow now. I can deal with these threats while you all move ahead and around.”

I wince, picturing just… just what she’ll do to them.

Consider all the dead eyes that slaughter would add to the pile in my mind.

“Beloved?” Tretion murmurs.

Understanding, at least in part, the scars bleeding upon my soul.

“Yeah. Okay.” I hiss. “Which way?”

Thendra grins, then points to a twisted pathway to our left. “You’ll know the songs, Awnya of the Fae.”

“What Why are we–” Raska begins to protest.

But I start to hear the songs of the approaching Fae and take up her arm, begin to drag her along.

“Why are we trusting that bitch!?!” Raska hisses.

“Because we’ve little other choice.” My Watcher murmurs, but only pulls me closer. “Awnya can’t take more death today.”

Our Everflame keeps walking but… goes quiet. Eventually asks gently. “The… backlash?”

Remembering our soft warnings to her about not killing while we worked to free the slaves of Theradas.

“Yeah. That.” Can’t help but huff out a sad laugh at the words Tretion gave her for this.

“I…” She sputters. “Is it that bad? Did… should we have cooled our spark when–”

“Naw.” I cut her off. “We reacted to their attacks. We're being hunted by them. Pretty cornered.”

The dead eyes hiss and spit at that but…

No words to refute me.

Too stupid and dead.

“But like… Are you gonna be okay?” Our Everflame asks. “Shouldn’t you be… like… singing some soft healing songs?”

“Most important thing to do is to not rely on your melodies to help quiet the ache.” My dad had instructed. “They can help a touch, even give some steady ground, but… overuse them and you’ll start to weave pain to their notes.”

“So… What doing then?” I’d chirp asked while cleaning the feathers and perching on his knee.

“Find warm and good sorts to lean into. Like me or others you’ve come to love and cherish. Don’t give into the urge to hide and hurt alone. Let their songs and embraces keep you from tumbling.”

“Yeah.” I take a deep breath, then reply. “Yeah. Refuse to be otherwise. This is nothing compared to… to the last time I felt like someone died because of me. Just all at once and kinda unexpected. Been really careful since then.”

Tretion smiles gently while I move from being led to taking the front.

Following the strange undertones rumbling through this place now. Starting to hum soft steady things to parse out the source of the notes.

“You mean like... With Lyra?” Raska asks.

I huff and shake my head. “Naw, actually. A bunch of freed slaves got killed or recaptured. Alongside a girl named Nufera.”

Raska tilts her head in confusion and lack of recognition.

“She was a lot like Lyra.” Tretion supplies.

“Too much for me to handle well.” I agree. “But Tretion and Nelops helped me through it all. Kinda even found the girl later and got her to safety.”

“Huh. You… both really did throw everything into helping people like Lyra after… um…” Raska trails off.

“It helped us both heal.” My Watcher replies easily and squeezes my hand. “Or… at least bear the weight of the scars while they settled.”

“Also gave me an excuse to stay close to a girl I really liked the song of.” I chuckle.

One of Tretion’s head noodles reaches out to wribble through my hair at that.

Raska’s anxiety cracks a bit at that, and I glance back to see her smirking. “It’s… kinda great to see. You two. I mean. I eh… And how easily you both have pulled Lyra back into your arms. Was worried at first. That things wouldn't be easy for you all. That you both and she had changed too much.”

“Honestly, just seeing her alive left no room for that worry to truly take root.” My Watcher murmurs. “She… If she did not wish to be with us we would have happily given her any spaces she needed. Tried to guide her to softer souls but otherwise remained distant if our presence proved too much a strain.”

Raska huffs, “I get it but… That would’ve been a mistake. Both if she pushed you both away or you let her.”

Can’t help but chuckle at that familiar ache. Something long settled as our girl burrowed deep into our lives, but still a fear. One that got kicked over like a rock to expose the cute critters beneath to a scorching day.

A touch terrified she’d finally cracked and gone back to Thendra. Despite her promises.

But no. Out into the desert, of all places.

“Yeah, but it would have been hers to make.” I shrug, “And we would have given her all the time in the Dream to reconsider that choice or… not. Find her happiness with others.”

Raska goes quiet at that. Might even be about to add something. But… Then the weird stark-white shell floors and walls are twisted into soft yet vibrant browns and greens. Weird familiar textures and patterns and…

“We’re here.” I announce and increase our pace as all other pathways seem to fade away.

Leaving us only a few tunnels to follow.

Can already hear the gentle sways I normally associate with one of the three Fae Wood.

“Gonna aim for speed now.” I say and reach to grip my dagger’s hilt, start to hum songs of a summer gale blowing at our backs. One that catches my feathers as I spread them from my arms. “This place seems more steady now. Any more Fae get in our way, move them. However ya need.”

Tretion sparks up her stave to crackling obvious force, while Raska’s spark skips to dance just behind me.

Ready to tear, sweep, and burn away any cunts who would stop us from finding our girl. No matter the cost.