CW:

Lyra POV wow! Talk with a slime gerl! Talk of spliting spirits/headmates from bodies at the end. Um... little memories of smutty wiggles kinda sorta WOW!

Three days of looking and testing and poking and resting and snuggling be– before they just ask the question they’ve tried to avoid.

“There… is one in this manor who we think could see this shard.” Our brilliant Watcher asks so carefully after ending a new small spell she'd woven. Then lets me sing better the little touches of Blight her weird songless magic tends to get infected with.

Took me… a day? I think? To understand the little questions and things offered from Raska. The worry bubbling more and more with every test and songs’ failure.

I nod. “Oke.”

“We wanted to ask first. Of course.” Awnya adds from behind me. “Didn’t want you to feel rushed or pressed to see anyone you don’t want to.”

“Oke.” I repeat.

They both pause.

“You know who we’d like to ask, don’t you? Have read us as easily as a pair of books.” Tretion sighs and gifts me a really soft smile while setting aside her books and magical tools.

“A l– little.” I reply, and give her my most confident smile back as I sway a bit.

“And… you’re sure?” Awnya asks. “That you’re okay with um… So from what little Raska asked Wren already she implied that while her sensing is good… it’s kinda like your cute soul tails. Touching might um… be the only way she can sense it. But the girl insists that she sensed something odd inside back before but didn’t think anything of it.”

“Oh.” I mumble and look down.

Can’t help but… but shiver a bit at… at the memories of her cold soul snuggled so close to mine. A few eternities of that soft and kind and gooey girl always so happy to pull me close. Nibbling and sucking and enveloping my everything. Amwella reminding me of the beloved I lost while promising me affections and adorations as… as she–

“Oke.” I whisper with as much confidence as I can.. “If… if wh– what needed. Oke. Trust.”

After that, we decide that the best place for this would be one of the newer Groves Usete has been working on. Apparently finished with the old and trying to weave another, already found a nice tree to sing a home from that we now sit outside from. They’re not here today though. So we chose this space for our meeting with the girl who can mebe see the shard my Dark Goddess gifted me.

If this works… we can do more tests and such elsewhere as our Brilliant Watcher tries to find ways to mimic how she senses this.

While we wait for Raska to get her, I distract myself from bubbling worry by trying to copy the long written things for the magic Furthonois taught me. Prolly gonna be at least three big books worth to like… really translate it out.

Don’t really understand it all. Mostly just… a big mess of memories from my Keshada charted out and corrected where my understanding of Blight Weaving made it better. Cleaner. Something both Awnya and Tretion can read and understand and replicate.

The manor rumbles a bit, and from the little I can understand… Raska just entered the grove with another person. One with a very dense soul.

Wren, of course. Nobody else feels like she does.

I stand and see them both just as they step around a big tree. She… She’s almost exactly the same as I remember her except… more vibrant? Colorful? Still can’t feel her emotions or anything but…

When those dark obsidian eyes lock on me I can’t help look away as her everything wiggles in some kind of feelings as she takes me all in. Soul and expression and… and body.

I wasn’t thinking about my clothes today and am dressed in a little blue skirt Tretion got all dribbly souled over and a dark top without sleeves Awnya insisted matched it. Was mostly enjoying all the pretty ruffles and patterns and didn’t realize just how much skin would be visible.

How… how many of my burns and scars and other stupid nonsense would be super open to anyone and everyone and… and…

Can’t help but reach over and grip at my left elbow with sharp talons. Wishing I wore some big dress or coat or… or something to hide inside!

Raska and Wren stop a good ten feet back though. And from the way my Beloved’s souls twist I think they’re about to do the talking and greetings and… or… But they don’t. Raska either. Just… Tretion rises and reaches out with hand and tendrils to curl gently about me. Awnya follows and does the same.

So I force out a soft and far too quiet. “H– hi. Wr– Wren.”

“Hello Lyra. It's... wonderful to see you again.” Wren replies gently, seeming to… to try so hard to still the ripples rolling across her form. Then she sputters out, “And I… I’m here to help. In any way you need. And… and I’m so sorry. For before. We… I should have…”

I risk a glance. Look up to see her… kinda melty. Raska still holds her hand though. The Everflame’s soul twisting in pained patterns that kinda help me understand what this pretty gooey girl is feeling.

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“Um… N– none. Y– your f– fault.” I whisper as she trails off and the silence stretches. “W– w– was st– stupid. Sh– sh– should have told th– th– that w– w– was F– F– Fae.”

All the souls about me wiggle in such disagreement against that. But it’s Wren who growls. “No. Absolutely not. That shouldn’t have mattered. I should have stopped Raska. Could have. Was just…”

She trails off again, and I offer a soft. “Scared?”

Wren nods.

“Is oke." I whisper back. "Am s– sc– scary.”

“Lyra…” Awnya warns gently.

Wren kinda putters in what I think would be a huff from anything else. “So am I. And I’ve spent years learning to not let people hurt me for it. Could really easily see the same in you.”

“D– D– different.” I grumble.

“Maybe. But… also not in ways that matter. You were nothing but kind and even protective of us.” Wren presses. “Raska was wrong. I was wrong. And… But Sevy and Zephin didn’t–”

“Lady Wren.” Tretion interrupts gently.

Doesn’t say more but, Wren stops anyway. Ripples in other ways.

Wanting to protect me from anyone who might hurt me. And… also knowing how hard that reunion will be for me.

“Um… Mebe.” I whisper. “J– just… Um…”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Wren replies quickly. “They… I know you know and you really don’t need to worry about… about them. Or us. Right now.”

“S– sorry.” I huff.

“Don’t be. Please. I… Raska and Matron Tretion said you all needed help finding something? Some kind of shard embedded into your Amwella?”

Bite my lip a bit, but nod. “Yeah.”

“Okay, May I come sit? Get some ideas of what I'm to look for?”

Takes me a few stupid seconds to realize everyone is waiting for me to answer her. So I nod and move to sit. Pip-pat the ground in front of my Beloveds and me.

Wren and Raska move to settle with us. Awnya offers them nice springwater drinks and fruits before more words are woven between us.

“So, I never found a quiet moment to mention it in detail, but I spoke with these two soon after the first rising of Spirits within you.” Tretion begins. “Asked for both her and Raska’s advice on how to help a lover recently afflicted the way you were.”

I freeze, look between them. Stammer. “R– r– really?”

“Yup.” Raska answers. “I wrote up the soot smelling journal that night.”

“And… Matron Tretion said that she and others seem to struggle to… to count your um…” Wren looks between us, dark eyes following our Jellyfish as they wiggle and paddle about. “Your children? I can help with that too if you’d like.”

“Muh?” I stammer. “B– but… h– how…”

They always seemed countless to us! Not endless but… kinda mushed. Like trying to count the fish in a murky pond.

“That would be really nice, actually.” Awnya answers while I stumble over my words and thoughts. “How many can you count out?”

Wren considers us all for a few seconds, murmurs as she works, then nods. “Eight big ones. With a pair that looks to have recently split but are still very close. Roughly three nuzzled close to each of you with the Matron carrying two, but… that shifts every few moments. They love to swim between, from what I'm seeing.”

E– eight? B– but… That… that’s so many! Can’t help but pull the ones closest to me into a hug as I absorb that. Embracing them all and even my Beloveds as I try to find the edges between. Suddenly so terrified at the idea of them all continuing to learn more songs and get bigger and… and… and maybe want a body to weave! Become little persons and eventually big people I... I'll need to figure out how to be a good mom to!

“And um… They also seem really happy.” Wren continues. “With all three of you but, especially amidst Lyra’s soul.”

“Oh they don’t let us miss that, ever.” Awnya grins. “Thanks for helping us put numbers to em. But… What else do ya see? In and about her soul I mean. No clue what else Raska told you so…?”

“Oh um… Just that Lyra should have two other spirits amidst her really pretty flame. Which… honestly it looks more like an ocean than fire.” Wren explains. “The tendrils are like the tides or waves. Your little ones the fish and other life. I… See the shadows of bigger spirits. I think. One seems asleep while the other is sitting very still.”

While I fibble fingers at the way my insides flutter at her description of my soul, Tretion and Awnya's Amwella alight with interest.

“Really?” Our brilliant Watcher murmurs. “They currently sit in spaces Lyra dubs the ‘maybe parts of the soul’. A location I believe to be folded within her, and possibly all others', Amwella.”

Wren thinks on that for a few seconds. “That… Makes sense. Actually. With what I know from watching and feeling Raska’s Amwella. Which…” She looks to her Everflame. “May I share some of what I mused at you over the years?”

“Yeah. Course.” Raska agrees immediately.

“Everflame souls are… weird. Very different than others.” Wren explains. “Most think it’s just… the extra weight of the Sparks she and others have absorbed. And while that’s a part of it, I… um… think it’s the wrong way of looking at it.”

“Oh?” Awnya murmurs. More than interested.

Raska cackles, “Cunt always said my soul was turned inside out to make room for my five flames.”

“Oh…” I whisper as I can’t help but let a little tendril sneak around our group to nuzzle the back left of Raska’s soul. “Th– that… oke. Y– yeah.”

Raska contains a little flutter of her expression and Amwella. And my beloved’s don’t notice, or don’t react. Just… enveloped by this pretty gooey lady’s words.

“Souls don’t normally get bigger, just… heavier. Denser. Right?” Wren adds. “I think it’s because people have these little pockets they fill with themselves. But with Everflames they tend to gobble up too much too fast. Pockets turn inside out and spill whatever is inside out to swim around the soul. And since Everflame sparks tend to be pretty angry… those pockets seem to struggle to contain the blaze.”

“Is this something you’ve seen in others? This… spilling out?” Tretion asks.

“Once or twice.” Wren nods. “Both times with Everflames though. Your children are the first time I’ve seen anything like them.”

Our Watcher nods, “You never had the misfortune of meeting one of the godlings, correct?”

“Not this close. No.” Wren shakes her everything. “Especially not um… Furthonois.”

A pause, then Awnya asks very carefully. “Did Raska tell you some of the, eh… lets say details, of Lyra’s current situation?”

Wren does what seems like how others would do a worried swallow, but nods. “One of the spirits that is inside Lyra is that of the previous godthing of slaves and slavers. While the other is… is a Fae. One that doesn’t speak much. Hasn't shared a name either.”

“Yup. And… are you okay with still helping?” Our kind Fae asks gently. “If you’d rather just keep your distance and look, that will probably help a lot. Won’t blame you if you’d rather keep clear of feeling anything else.”

“Raska said they are both being kind. Not hurting Lyra anymore. Even helped her escape, right?” Wren asks. “And… and if what is happening to Lyra is common for godthings to suffer. The rising of old spirits then… then they probably got hurt a lot in their time alive. Right?”

I nod. “Y– yes.”

“Then I’ll do what I can. And… if I’m being honest that doesn’t worry me too much.”

“Oh?” Tretion asks. “An unkillable spirit’s wroth or ire is something most would fear.”

Raska chuckles. Flooded with vicious mirth at that. “Cuz last time a sibling of mine tried to hurt my girls Wren drowned her spark. Then threw the embers of both it and the Cinderkin out the window. Separated the two. Forced them to remantle and ran off scared as all the Dead Cinders.”

We all freeze at that. Fuzzy Fae perks up in sudden curiosity, Furthonois in a mix of fear and… something else. Something messy.

“Really?” Tretion murmurs, soul bubbling in an almost vicious interest at Wren’s words. “Well then, Lady Wren, I’m even more interested in gaining your help than before. As currently when our Beloved destroys a spirit they apparently only return to the mantle’s shadow. To bubble up again later. Learning how to permanently remove them would be a boon I’d pay any price to gain.”