CW:

Wow. Wowowow. END OF ARC 3!!! WOW Welcome! Um... pretty clean for a Breaking chappy. And that's important. A transgerl realizing that the title to chappy One was a big lie and wow that's important!

They wanted to wait. Told me over and over how it’s barely been two weeks. That Wren was helping our Beloved try to figure out how to help any spirit wanting or needing separation to get that. Possibly more like… weavings to help us deal with Spirits that could bubble up from the Mantle’s shadow. Has even come to ask Furthonois some questions and gotten my pretty Keshada’s help!

But… To do all that could take a few eternities. And I have promises to keep.

And besides. I want both Furthonois and my Fuzzy Fae close to help if someone is waiting to try and hurt us.

No one is. At least not from what I can feel as we step out past Awnya’s Riftwalking song. Just…

A city full of souls in more agony that I ever felt. Wailing fear and dread that seems to smother everyone.

“Dreamer’s Tits…” Awnya hisses.

Glance up to see… Oh.

The forest is closer now. Can even see it from the top of Furthonois’ old temple we chose to Riftwalk to. Rising up and up and up. Nearly so tall it covers the entire sky all around now.

And…

Glance back to see the little passage Awnya wove from Getrik's home cracking and wilting a bit.

“Yeah, Riftwalks from everyone must be harder to weave.” Our Fae nods while glancing around.

“How much harder?” Raska rasps, stepping past to place herself just beyond. All Five spirits within her Amwella growling in warning to the Rift she does not trust.

My wonderful Everflame and all her Sparks ready to burn everything and everyone to keep me safe.

“I mean…” Awnya hums, tilting her head back and forth. “I’ve felt worse, literally drifted us through Rifts drowning in Blight. But for anyone here without the spells or songs tailored to resist the Rot and Ruin? This could be impossible for them to overcome.”

“And you? Lyra?” My Everflame asks, glancing back at me. “You struggled pretty bad last time. Don’t want you to get stuck again.”

Close my eyes and focus on…

Worse than ever before I… I’m fighting the sensations of home. Of feeling safe. Despite how scary everything is. Like some wiggly worm pulled up from the mud finally feeling the cold soft dirt and wanting to burrow deep and never leave. Feet already feel stuck like they’ve been slurped up in deep mud.

“Mebe.” I whisper. “Still M– mucky. M– more th– than ever.”

“That makes sense though.” Tretion offers, stepping up to hover next to Raska. “If her mantle is tied to this Rift, woven long ago into it… there are probably sympathetic binds that pull it close as everything sinks. Like the canopy of a tree falling as the entire thing collapses. But… more importantly,” Glances back to me. “Do you sense any souls of concern to us, Beloved?”

Focus harder. Or… deeper?

My tendrils naturally want to settle into and grip something beneath everything. Like this Rift has some core of Amwella that I could just reach out and grasp. Just how I kinda did when chasing Ukalon. Used something then to catapult after them.

But…

“N– no.” I answer. “No F– fae. No U– uk– birb b– bitch. Or r– rock bitch.”

Raska and all Five of her Flames cackle quietly, but she doesn’t say anything.

“And… the big cunt?” Awnya asks.

Already checked. Her Manor sits as quietly as it did last time. No Reavers, no Thendra.

“No.” I whisper, gripping the shard tight from within.

She’s still keeping her promises.

“Alright. Perfect. Dreamer’s Tits.” Our Fae sighs. “So… First steps?”

Focus outways again. Find… So many people. Still. All hurting. All so scared.

“Well… This makes things both easier, and harder.” Tretion speaks after a few seconds. “With Lyra unable to Riftwalk, we’ll need to be even more careful. But without Fae or Godlings roaming we shed many worries. Can focus on efficiency of motion where stealth was our most important concern before.”

And… Can even feel Blight bubbling below. Rot stirring. Ruin cracking at the foundations of this Rift.

“Still lots of people to grab. We have time but… what about the other Rifts close to here?” Raska asks. “The ones Theradas kinda props up. They’ll be worse than here. Probably with way more people to parse out and save.”

And… it’s like they call out to each other. All the pain this… really loud and heavy thing that pushes the Rift down faster and harder to my Beloved Ocean. Which… also seems to reach up to them all more than ever. Little wiggly rivers trying to fall upwards to each and every hurting soul here.

“I mean… We just gotta take it one person at a time.” Awnya answers. “I hate leaving anyone behind, honestly, but… We can only do so much.”

Why is that?

“Lyra?” Our Watcher murmurs gently, stepping up to lay a careful hand on my shoulder.

“Why?” I whisper.

“Why what? Beloved.” Tretion asks.

“Pain. S– suffering. Rift s– sinking f– faster b– because. W– why?”

She pauses, seems to think on that for a long time. “I know Awnya has tellings from the Fae on that, but I could not say. Why do you ask? Can you… sense something?”

Nod. “Yes.”

And from within the mebe parts of my soul, the last Godthing of this Rift rises to sigh. [It was always something I and the others felt too. The more this place suffered, the more that distant sandstorm grew. Closer and closer every passing century.]

“Not sure how much I’d trust the songs I was taught.” Awnya offers, stepping closer. “But… I don’t know, girl. All the bad stuff always seemed to draw the Blight closer. Is why most Fae avoid more… difficult songs. Why our Watcher’s magic worries me sometimes. And… probably why so many Fae couldn’t think past their own fear when it came to helping those who are hurting.”

Hated by life itself.

But that… No that… Doesn’t make sense!

“B– beloved O– ocean soft. Sweet.” I whisper, “O– only k– kind J– j– jellyfish th– there. F– filled with… w– with life. S– so… why?”

Reach my Naranggas deeper into the sandstone. Past it even. Trying to… to remember.

A wall of fire and light and warmth. Something I had to wiggle through the holes in to get past to come back here. Cracked. Leaking. But…

Could I just…

“Lyra?”

“R– reaching. F– feeling. J– just t– tendrils.” I assure them while moving to sit. “W– want t– to feel. Understand. Um… Pl– please?”

“Yeah, alright.” Awnya agrees immediately, settling across from me. “More info is always better than scuttling around blind. Take your time.”

“But… not too much time.” Tretion replies while sitting behind and wrapping about me with arms and head tendrils. Tugs and holds me close. “Our Riftwalking is a touch limited now.”

“Oke.” I nod, and focus past myself. At… at squeezing and wriggling a tendril backwards through the… something. Whatever is below us. Whatever I crawled through all those years ago.

The soul of this city? Or just a shell? I… I’m not sure.

Find the wall. Then a bunch of cracks and breaks and holes. Same as before when I came back from the opposite direction. Jellyfish wriggle and coo and yip excitement as they feel my Amwella touch the ocean.

Reach through and… find the Blighted sea. Just as warm and soft and wonderful as I remember. Can even feel some cute shaped friends paddling in the distance.

Cradles and curls about even this single tendril like everyone who ever loved me.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

But that… Wait.

Shouldn’t it hate me?

Try to hurt me or burn me? Tear me apart? Chase me away?

Pull and tug it back. Weave soft will and wordless melodies through my tendril. Shape it into… well, water. Just the little I can touch. A bubble of fresh clear water amidst a sea of colors. Expecting it to dissolve that water and tear it apart. Turn from this soft gentle caress into insistent and cruel… somethings.

But it only snuggles the water too. Silently hums as the tides pull the water away to spread out and… and…

Oh.

Reach deeper. Weave more things from the Blight. Rocks and sand and a half-dozen other things. Trying to understand what I’m feeling as they get just… tugged off into the sea.

Safe. Perfect. Not melting away.

But that… that would mean…

I… know I’m crying. Probably a lot from how close my Beloveds and Everflame holds me. How they whisper the softest things in the Dream to the stupid girl who… who…

Who this life doesn’t hate.

Never did.

At… at least once I entered this Dream.

Just… just not…

“The Rifts and especially the Fae Woods are sung to match the visions your kind had,” My lovers had told me Undreka said. “Then slowly Rotted to what they are as the ages passed.”

Not me.

This Dream, the Sapana, as Undreka had said it is called. It…

And at that… an old memory bubbles up. Slips between the others I only claimed as I drank up big and warm souls.

Of my first time diving into this Dream. How it all held me close. Didn’t understand what I wanted, why I was here. Or what I lost. Only… only that She held a warm soft girl new to this Dream just looking for happiness and love. Following a really pretty song of warmth and life.

So Her ocean helped me ignore the past, and swim toward the future I was hunting. Let me swim with the other soft friends within till I found the edges of the Dead Dreamer’s Wood and had to remember a bit of who I was to find where I was stumbling to.

Then again, later, after I lost my Tretion. And fell back into the Blighted Sea. Found by my little Jellyfish and swam back to the only person in the Dream whom I thought could help me.

Clutch the shard of my Dark Goddess so close as everything I am comes apart.

The wretched and horrid and cruel and… but… also wonderful cunt of a Dreamer She… She…

She doesn’t hate me?

This life and Dream She wove LOVES me? Always has? Ever… ever since I first touched Her ocean!?!

It was only… Only the Fae and horrid songs that hated me. Wove a Dream that barely tolerates souls like mine. Built these walls that burn the ocean and… and…

More tendrils slip down to wriggle and writhe and… and embrace the Ocean below.

The… the Blight? The Rot. And the wretched Ruin was…

It was a gift?!?

And it’s like the ocean is giggling back such an answer. A soundless melody that causes all the Jellyfish in my soul to yip and wiggle in tune.

The stuff of potential unending.

Just… waiting for me to weave it into whatever happiness I chose from it all?

I feel how my Beloved’s are thinking about tugging us all back to our wonderful home. But… I’m holding onto my Rift really tightly. Alongside the Ocean below. Am as unmovable as the biggest heaviest rock ever as I try to blubber words to them.

“D– Drrr— Sh– she… I…”

Can’t get the words out. It’s all too much.

“What is it girl?” Awnya asks, moving to cup my messy wet cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“L– loves m– m– me.” I manage to sputter past the tears.

“Who?” Our wonderful Watcher asks carefully.

Worried that I’m talking about my Dark Goddess.

Shake my head as I fight out the next words. “D– D– Dreamer. O– ocean. All- always. Bl– blight w– wants t– tooo h– he– help. F– fr– feels the P– pain. All of it. L– loves. Is just… t– trying to h– he– help! W– wakes u– u– up o– on– only t– t– to h– help!”

“I… What?” Awnya sputters. “Girl you’re not making sense. The Dreamer is Dead. Waking Her is just… a phrase. Like how you’d tell a little one to not take a bite out of a rotting infected corpse. The Blight is… it’s just…”

Wriggle everything harder in a big shake. “N– no! Not… F– Fae are… it’s… but…”

Can she even understand this? Or… or… I mean I used to only see dark scary dangerous goo when looking at Blight. Or my Talons. Never the vibrant colors and promises. And my little ones were… were just…

“If… A Goddess wove this entire Dream, but then perished.” Our Brilliant Beloved Watcher begins carefully. “It makes some amount of sense that, if She adored those within, She wouldn’t want them to suffer. Would… possibly see them as her children, and wish for them to take Her power and weave themselves Rifts from Her remains. Find their happiness past Her death.”

I nod at that, my brilliant Watcher so easily wraps her mind around my messy words as her head noodles hug me. Causing me to put everything into fighting back another mess of tears.

“Oh… and probably adopt any nice sorts who tumbled into it after too. Give them that same love.” Awnya whispers, understanding sparking through her Amwella. “Dreamer’s Tits… I… I’ve never heard it put that way. Always… just how scary the Blight is. Or how much it tears at the Rifts and those inside. How the Fae carved life from death. Always fought the Rot. But was it really just…”

“T– trying to h– help.” I finish. “B– but… is… um…”

“Mayhaps… This ocean doesn’t know how? Just… tries to clear the pain away?” Tretion offers. “Undreka mentioned that. How she and others would lose themselves if they remain within for too long.”

Nod fiercely. “F– Fae’s B– broken Dr– dr– dream. H– hurting e– everyone.”

“Okay but like…” Raska asks from where she kneels next to us. All five of her Sparks so quiet and still and... and filled with agreement and pain that hurts to feel. “What does that mean for us? Now?”

Chew on that for a few seconds. “Um… I… I d– don’t…?”

Grip the ocean harder as I think on all this. Squeeze the shard of a Dark Goddess close when that bubbles up such… angry thoughts.

At how much the Fae messed everything up! Set up these stupid painful Hearthflames to burn away the Blight to their stupid Woods! Hate anyone and everything that tries to make things better! Tried to take my body and songs and soul away to make more of… of that!

Fight back a growl as I keep feeling all the souls wailing in agony all throughout this city.

Left to suffer so their warm souls could keep the last gifts of the Dead Dreamer from helping them.

And now this Rift, the warmth stolen and sparked to burn, is sinking and… and the Fae don’t care! Only wanted to… to steal my flame and life and happiness to keep theirs burning!!!

Reach deeper. Grip the ocean and my Rift harder.

Growling and hissing as I… I don’t know what to do.

I could pull. Try to like… keep Theradas from sinking. It’s kinda why I feel so stuck here. Like the previous Godthings did just by naturally staying here.

Or… I could let it sink. Shove it down and let my Beloved Ocean have it back.

But… but the souls here don’t want that. Not all of them want to die or even forget like I did. So many are fighting and burning and trying to find their happiness. Despite being slaves bound to monsters in this stupid place.

So… do like we all agreed? Save the slaves and the shelled home and let the rest drown?

But… I hate that too.

“What you thinking, love?” Awnya nudges me.

Try to explain. Share what I feel. And what I could do. It… takes a bit. But… My lovers are so patient. Even let Awnya’s Riftwalk fade and agree to just use the shelled friend in the old Watcher Matron’s manor if we need a new way back.

“What does the previous Godthing of Theradas have to say about this?” Tretion asks as I finish.

My pretty Keshada wriggles in worry. But offers words for me to share. [If I never see or smell the sands of this Rift again, it’ll be too soon. I’d advise you not to try to save this rotting place.]

I repeat her words as best I can.

Tretion nods, in understanding but not necessarily agreement. “Thank you for sharing, Lady Furthonois.”

“I like the idea of saving the Slaves and such, but… yeah. This dry dead Rift seems a waste of soulfire to try and keep from drowning.” Raska agrees.

Tendrils scrape against the warm wall down deep beneath the sands of this Rift. Feel how… how much it burns and blazes and batters the Ocean back. But also how weak it feels. Broken. Cracking. It would take everything I am to just… keep it steady.

“And the only other option is for Lyra to try and be the Godthing to this Rift." Our thoughtful Fae murmurs. "Hold it up and try to make it better. Which… that’s a lot to even think about. Much less do. Impossible to ask.”

[Many have tried, in ages past. All failed. Brought this Rift to this end after a parade of misery.] Furthonois sighs and settles back into snuggling the mebe parts and holding the smallest Jellyfish safe and close. [Let it drown.]

I share that too, and after a few moments of thinking… Awnya asks. “And that Fae spirit in you? What does it think about this?”

Look to my Fuzzy Fae inside, see if… Yeah. It bubbles with a soft and quiet mess of emotions. Mostly…

Oh.

It… shares something with me. A memory. The first it’s ever offered.

Of a Rift.

This Rift.

A long time ago.

How life bubbled up and grew from the sands. A tree that once grew up and through and supported the temple of the Godthing. Branches that reached out and over and around. And…

And a big river. One that giggled and gurgled happily despite the dry heat.

How much that vast supply of water helped everyone live better. Let plants and animals and trees and… and everything thrive!

The wonderful memory fades though, leaving me…

“Oh.” I whisper.

The lack of easy water probably really made everything worse.

The realization is soon followed by Inspiration catching the sadness and reweaving into… into…

“Oh?” Our Watcher asks quietly. Still holding me so close.

“W– water.” I answer.

Reaching down to the big wall again.

“Huh?” Raska replies. Really confused and thinking I just… want a drink.

Feel the weak part, find a good big crack. Start to… to weave the Blight. As much as I can. Carefully but... Really focusing.

“Helping.” I growl. “N– not…. Not s– sure if can save. B– but can help. Easy Easy.”

The ocean twists and giggles at my request. Wriggling after and along my tendril to… to help.

As best She can.

Always.

Seems to wiggle and shift easier then ever.

Furthonois huffs in… big emotions. Messy ones. But doesn’t radiate anything of wander and love at me. While our Fuzzy Fae purrs and nuzzles me close.

Weeping hope it hasn’t felt in a very long time.

Wribble free of my lover’s embrace to rise just as the sound echoes up and around us. Lead them by the hands over to the edge to look down and see…

“Oh… Clever girl.” Awnya chuckles as she sees the reflected mess filling the deepest parts of the central chasm that runs through the city below. “You wove a bunch of Blight into water. Gave Theradas a growing little lake.”

“I mean… yeah.” Raska agrees. “That’s a good start. Water would be rough to find here. No doubt. But… is it enough?”

“No. But she’s eliminating a scarcity.” Tretion nods, holds me closer. “That’s a perfect start.”

“A– and St– storm w– will q– quiet d– down.” I add. “L– less sc– scary.”

“I… Wait. Did you stop the Rift from sinking?” Awnya turns to stare at me, pretty amber eyes so wide.

Wribble back and forth in uncertainty. “M– mebe? A little? N– not sure. A– asked Bll- blighted O– ocean to h– help w– with w– wa– water. R– river. T– to wa– wait. F– focus on th– that in– instead of st– storm.”

“And it listened?” She pauses, tears touching her eyes too. “Girl that… That gives us so much more time. To save pretty much like… everyone. No one gets missed, or forgotten. Ever again. We can… Dreamer’s Tits. We can make sure of that. Better than ever.”

And… it takes me a second to see why that wakes up all the Jellyfish nuzzling happily in her soul to wake up.

Everyone she ever saved is me.

Her Beloved she’s trying so hard to not lose again.

And… Everyone she couldn’t save is also me.

The girl she loved and lost.

Step over to pull her into such a hug. Tugging our Watcher and even Raska into the embrace with my first lover.

“B– better. Al– always.” I agree. “M– mebe… not f– forever. B– but…”

“As long as we can.” Tretion finishes for me. “Make certain our little ones have a softer life and Dream to swim through than we did.”

OH GUCK WE'RE HERERE! End of ARC 3!

To Break a Blight Weaver.

Arc 4 starts super soon!

And thanks so much to all for dealing with the delays.

Healththings and stuff and trying to get this write just... was very wow and took a lot of extra time!

BUT! We're not done yet!

Time for Arc 4 loves and friends!

Can't wait to share the title of the next Arc in the next weeks!

Love you all! Thanks again SO much for joining us on this journey!!!