CW:

Remembering getting burned. Burn wounds getting talked about.

“You, of course.” Tretion replies to their unspoken question. “Please. I’d tumble over the numbers and such unless you lead us through this explanation.”

“My thoughts exactly, love.” Awnya nods, “Not that they aren’t important. Just… think Lyra and Wren might not absorb the main notes.”

Wren sighs. “I’m intimately aware of the… the knittings of these horrid things.”

“Really?” Awnya replies easily, warmer feeling fully back into her words now. “That’s… Well, Dreamer’s Tits. I’m sorry to hear that. Binding tools are nasty at even their most simple. Only get more wretched when you find creative and… experienced sorts.”

“Exactly.” Wren murmurs, seeming to curl a bit in on herself. “Which is why I don’t understand why you all act like… such… I don’t know. We should be pulling this thing out and letting me melt it away into nothing.”

I twitch at that. Hard enough to jerk tendril and shard free of Wren’s grip and cause her to freeze. Normally dribbly body going a bit stiff and… and kinda like…

Like a not so little snake coiled and ready to pounce.

Raska lets out a huff of a cackling laugh, startling us all and laying a hand on Wren as she jerks to glare at her Everflame. “Wren. Girl. That’s why. Now. Shut up and listen to the two that’ve been saving girls like Lyra since before we met her. Alright?”

Wren pauses, lets herself begin to ripple again and turns back to look at me and my Beloved’s. I’m about to try and try to force out my only apology as she watches as our Jellyfish wake up a bit and swim to nuzzle into the deeper parts of my Amwella.

But Wren speaks first. “Ukalon’s Tits.” She huffs and seems to become a bit more puddly than I’ve ever seen her. “I’m acting stupid. I just… have a bad past with this sort of thing. Sorry for being a mess about this.”

“You’re forgiven,” Our Watcher replies immediately. “This is… not a thing we handled well at first. Have years of mistakes and… and certainly felt the sting of wounds not tended to carefully.”

Wren winces and looks down. “This place is filled with souls you’ve put everything into saving. I… But… please. You wanted to explain?”

“Sure did. To both you and Lyra.” Awnya smiles gently and leans forward to smooth the grass out in front of her.. “So, I’m pretty sure everyone here is familiar with the more… well, let’s say pointed ways horrid sorts control those they see as their property. Even without any kind of magic you’ve got lots of options to break people into being what you want. Enchanted collars and even Ukalon’s nasty feathers are just… often faster ways to the same end. Honestly.”

I… don’t like the bubbling mess that rises in my tummy at her words. The memories of those first weeks and what… what my Thendra would do to make me obey without question.

What… what she’s about to probably call me. Or… what she’s about to say how… how my Dark Goddess saw me.

But our wonderful Watcher must feel that in me. Curls about me tighter to add. “And… generally we like to start with removing any physical or magical limits to a rescued soul. Reminders to the past when we find them a new community to join. But… we’ve long learned it is best to not demand it as a requirement for sanctuary and freedom here.”

“Exactly. Sometimes they get upset about it, and we nudge them into sorts that have the best words and songs for them.” Awnya continues. “Often wait for them to ask for things to be removed. Giving them the power to choose to cast away old chains is… powerful. Seen types heal years of pain in a day when we let them endure a few weeks with a collar or pair of feathers, then let them ask for them to be torn off.”

“And…” Wren interjects, but adjusts and murmurs softly. “Sorry. May I ask a question?”

“Course.” Awnya agrees.

“What if the enchantment or collar or… or whatever it is, poses a danger? To them or others?”

Our Fae tip-taps her nose. “Ah. That one's tricky. Danger to others means we gotta keep 'em isolated a bit. But only danger to themselves? We like to wait till there is no other choice. Try hard to match them to communities that’ll help them want to be free of whatever binds them.”

Wren takes that in, obsidian eyes rolling up and down me again. Enough that I have to look away.

“Lyra…” She starts carefully, but words grow a little more pleading as she speaks each one. “You… This… Everything you feel about her. All your… your affections and needs and… and more they… it's because she cheated! Laid this thing to let her know you better than you understand yourself and use that to… to twist you. Always give you the smallest amount to make you see her as everything you ever needed.”

Huff and fibble fingers in annoyance as I try very hard not to… to think about that. How easily she already understood me and how I loved it and… and how much this shard meant to me.

Still means to me.

“A– asked. L– let h– her. B– b– bec– ca– cause K– k– kept me.” I whisper, then look up to see her face torn by such horror and pain.

Wren's reply is the soften whisper. “That’s exactly what she’s taught you to say. Even to think.”

“N– n– no o– one b– be– belie–” Growl and almost skip the word but… force it out. “Be– Leevs– eeves… Me. Am D– d– dan– ngerrrous. M– mon– monssst– ster.”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Hey, Lyra that’s–” Awnya starts to interject into my sputtering words.

Wrong? How… how could she forget how I hurt her with my Naranggas? Or… or bled Blight?

“No!” I snap, and she stops. Lets me continue “E– e– ev– even b– b– bef– fffrrr– ore. Br– br– broken. Bl– bl– blight– ed. H– h– hur– hurt e– ev– every– one.”

“Beloved.” Tretion whispers gently, but nothing more. Even reaches over to lay a head noodle on Awnya to stop her from interrupting me again as I pause to catch my breath and push through the words I need to share.

And worse… I did kill my first Beloved Bound. See everyday how my mistakes and lack of control stole away so much from her. Can see the little wounds between soul and flesh. Hate to… to imagine how long it took her to recover after the manor grew her a new soul.

“Al– al– always.” I spit, glaring at nothing while my Amwella feels everything. Forcing me to understand the every twist and wiggle of soulflame at my words. “E– ev– even. N– n– nnn– now. Th– th– thee– Thendra t– tr– trained m– me. Br– brrr– broke. M– me. G– ggaaa– ve c– cont– trol. N– nee– need. W– w– won’t b– be st– stu– stupid again.”

They are all so quiet after that. Souls and gooey form rippling in patterns of pain and guilt and… and worry and… and shame and…

“Lyra, Can I be honest?” Raska whispers. Scooting forward to kneel in front of me.

I don’t look up. Just… sigh. Nod.

“We’ll be burning with nothing but happiness when you do decide to yank it out, more when you finally toss it away, but… That needs to come slow. Careful. Gotta see and feel that you can build a life without her. Right?” She murmurs.

I nod again without looking up.

“We’ll all hate it, but you can keep that shard as long as you want and… I’ll even understand it. Cause everything you just said reminds me of how terrified I was to leave my controlling mums and stupid siblings to… to build something better. Took me a long time to pull away fully. Even after forging the body I needed.”

Risk a glance up as she echoes my Beloveds’ words. Find her eyes not locked on mine but… aimed at… at my…

“But… these?” Raska reaches out, carefully and so gently lifts and touches my left arm.

Cold stone fingers cradling the burns her flame tore across me.

I freeze as my Amwella twists and flinches in such a spike of fear and guilt.

“You don’t need this. These aren’t about her.” She whispers, and her body shakes with each word. The tears she cannot shed instead sparking off her soul. “Took me forever to understand why you won’t let them go either.”

I want to tug my arm away, to scream a Riftwalk and run, to dive into my sea and not have to… to think about this.

This reminder to myself I’m betraying with every second I spend with my Beloveds.

“They don’t keep you or us or… or anyone safe.” Raska rasps, every word echoes the feelings of all five sparks that burn across her gorgeous soul. “And we both know this isn’t who you… you Dream to be.”

My beloved Fae’s words to me so long ago ring through my ears as I feel this Everflame’s bubbling sorrow thrash and blaze through her gorgeous soul.

What I… Dream to be?

“Fae don’t dream of what we are, but of what we want to be.” Awnya takes my other hand, “Everyday you fight to be that, in every way you can, that’s what makes you Fae.”

She pulls, very gently, leading down the sloped path. “Especially since you were dreaming of it before you knew any songs.”

Haven’t… haven’t felt happy with my form since… well, since a long time ago. Since I started learning the curse words and letting them Blight my talons. Needed to change to be what Thendra needed.

To… to stop being a slave.

Needed to stop being a stupid weak thing only good for a quick bite.

Had to get strong.

Be a Reaver.

Gave up my perfect form for a Dark Goddess' Dream.

“I don’t know how much you changed this body for Thendra, to… to become what she wanted you to be.” Raska speaking the thoughts I won't even whisper, her lips trembling as body shakes even harder. “But… She didn’t do this. I did. And… and I’m so sorry. I was wrong and stupid and everything I hate. But I don’t want you burned girl. Please. Don’t… d– don’t keep these. Let them go. Even if you never wanna see me or mine ever again just… Please let them go. D– don’t… don’t k– keep them as… as some kind of mark to make you think you’re just gonna hurt everyone you love. Don't let my mistakes stop you from finding even a spark of your happiness.”

Burns itch and bite and tear so much as this Everflame does everything but weep while gently cradling my arm. As… as I see the wonderful old lover of mine come apart at… at the thought of me like I am.

Covered in the ugly burns she tore across flesh the day she threw me away.

“R– Raska…” I whimper, leaning forward from my Watcher’s embrace to bump head into hers. Reaching up and around to wrap my free talon and arm around her while crying enough tears for us both.

Feeling split in half. Wanting to… to feel free of old scars but… but also scared to let that song bubble up and heal the wounds.

As much as they feel wrong they… feel as much a part of me as… as…

“What happened that day was my fault. My mistake. My fear and pain and stupid anger boiling at onto a girl that only deserved better.” She very nearly wails, moving to mush her soul more into the tendril that grips it. “Please feel that. As much as you need.”

As old horrible flesh. The stuff my old life hurt me with and this Dream tried to wrap about me.

That… cracks something. As I cradle this girl who burned me. Moving to twist more and more Naranggas about her soul.

The… the promise I made to myself at the start of my flesh changes when my mom suggested I could keep some of the old bits. How much easier it would be to just… change those.

How much I knew that wouldn’t work. Even then. Knew I had to tear everything away and weave it myself.

But… But this IS my flesh.

Everything scarred and broken and burned everything I wanted and wove just… torn apart and broken. Any resemblance to the old something I chose to keep and sing into and through myself.

And… My Jellyfish did remind me of that old song.

Is… is that still me?

Turn the melody over in my mind and soul as Raska melts into my embrace. Wren and our Beloveds staying close. Quietly listening. Waiting. Filling with anxiety that Raska’s pushing too hard. Is scaring me. That her pleading for this is just going to hurt me.

But… I finally whisper. “Oke.”

Feel everyone’s soul twist in new ways at that. Wiggling in… in such hope.

Raska freezes, replies back so softly from deep in my arms and tendrils. “You… yeah?”

“Oke.” I repeat, chewing on my lip and considering the song.

Start… really small. So soft it would be hard to notice if everyone wasn’t being quiet.

Still not used to this stupid tongue but… the Fae words weren’t things I was good with anyway. And Awnya herself mostly hums and whistles and at most mumbled them all messily. I don’t need anything but my… my desires.

And… while my time wordless did teach me how to sing better without Fae words, it wasn’t what taught me how to weave my flesh to be like I always wanted. My mother did that. Taught me that the words are secondary to the things our Amwella burns for.

Jellyfish wake up and wiggle about when they hear my song. Begin to yip and coo and add their voices to mine. Even the Fuzzy Fae helps from the mebe parts as it learns the tune. Starts to help our pretty Keshada hum along.

Awnya remembers helping me get my tongue back, of course, and sings with us. And… and while Tretion doesn’t know where to even start. I can’t help but giggle through the tear drenched song at how cutely her head tendrils sway to the tune.

Slowly, and carefully. Finding my old parts to shape my Fae flesh back into more like it was.

Not perfect. Probably never was.

Just… better than before.

Always.

In in the arms of such loving souls, I let some old scars start to fade.

Maybe... maybe even someday to just live in memory.