CW:

THE START OF ARC 4!!! AAAHHH Tretion POV!!! Talk of slavers getting thrown into a friendly ocean that'll probably unmake them in a people way. Talk of headmates being locked from action.

While I feel the panic, fear and rising of horrid memories looming in the back of my thoughts, it’s… still not as bad as what I expected. Only the gentle swaying to worry about as I stand in my old family's home here in Theradas.

It’s nothing like it was. Both when we’d walked through following a wretched woman, and long before. The last time I visited my family’s home within this wretched city.

Cleared of all the old glamour and wealth by either Thendra, her Reavers, or… perhaps even brave scavengers. The uneasy humming of the gateway to the Sea-shell manor, or the fate of the last to call this place home, kept any from settling here permanently. Leaving it a dusty decrepit home for us to reclaim and clean for our purposes.

And now at least five dozen mostly calm souls move about this place. Former slaves being guided and helped by volunteers from our manor. Offerings of food and clothes and aid, of all kinds, gifted freely to any that come and request them.

Many still bubble with worry. Obvious conditioning well placed in them to fear being offered, as my second Beloved would claim as, ‘All the good stuff’. Especially when it comes from anyone that doesn’t aspire to own them.

And… Well, despite our worry about it, Lyra has no patience for slavers in her city and Rift. Or any that lurk and prey upon others or seek to take bites of flesh or soul of the former slaves we’re trying to help.

Hunted and dealt with them in the only way she knows how.

Didn’t eat them, to my great relief. As I am still terrified of what rampant Amwella consumption could mean for even a soul as sturdy as her own.

But my first Beloved simply… Rift-tossed them into her Blighted Sea. Let the Dead Dreamer consider the best future for beings so comfortable with treating fellow souls as simple property to be used until death.

There are still some left she’s watching. People who saw or felt or heard that the new Goddess of Theradas is pointedly stalking her city and Rift for dangers and quieted what could have been old hungers.

Well… all except one gaggle. One not felt or seen since our last visit. And one place she will not visit. An old home filled with Reavers and worse still. But that… will be a wound best healed when ready.

Can’t be anything but proud of her though, for how much she’s braved and grown past.

Watch now with rapt focus as she moves through this crowd. Reaching out with soft Amwella tendrils while humming gentle lilting songs of healing to those in need. Nothing intrusive just… relief from the dry heat that still smothers this Rift. Ensuring any infections or wounds won’t rob anyone of life.

Her hiding song of course mingled into the mix, but tuned so well as that only those she desires will see her or our children that swim about their Goddess' sea-bed of a soul.

Something about a counter melody for us, I believe? One that causes our Awnya to pause in awe every time she knits that song from nothing but small sounds.

“It’s… Really like our girl said.” She whispered one night as Lyra slept between us, all a mess of tears and love. “This Dream adores her, just like we do. Will give her anything if she knows how to ask for. Glad she found that. Dreamer’s Tits. She… She needed that. More than I know how to explain, love.”

But so much danger still exists. Most we can face together, and fortify our home, family and community well against but…

Perhaps more we’ll need to reach out and seek to understand.

My first Beloved Bound’s gaze twists to me. Violet eyes searching mine.

I answer with a soft smile and let a swaying of my own headstalks gift her a small gentle wave of assurance.

I’m okay. Just worrying over all the things that still need to be done.

She can’t hear our thoughts. Tried to be very clear about that. But I think what she can feel in those she focuses her soul’s senses on are quite… revealing to her perceptions. As she’s voiced things seen bubbling beneath our conscious muses. Things grasped with more clarity than she’s comfortable with. Tries to ignore.

More so if she’s snuggling our Amwella with a tendril.

And I’ll thank the Dead Dreamer Herself if ever given the chance that all three of her lovers delight in this.

I, always and forever willing to let her find nothing but love and adorations within me. Hope so much that what she finds within will help heal the wound my first death caused.

Awnya, brimming with furious abandon to let the soul songs that dwell within be felt by our Beloved. Roaring delights in this second chance to claim Lyra as hers.

And… Raska. Filled with five extra spirits that each blaze with growing obsession, and at their core is the Everflame who’s working so hard to do better. Heal the burns she’s scorched across not just our love but any former companions.

Others, I know for a fact, would find this unacceptable. Or at the very least uncomfortable. An intrusion upon private things. And she would feel that and hate herself for something she was conditioned pointedly to not just feel. But to yearn for.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

A certainty about those around her. Protection through knowing exactly who is a threat and who isn't. Who means to keep her, and who desires to toss her away.

And while… yes. There are things I’d often like to consider alone and approach my loved ones privately within my own time… I’ve enjoyed how opposite this all is for me.

If my late grandmother, or wretched cousins, had been aware of even half my true thoughts it would have meant so much pain for me.

Well… pain sooner. I guess. This may not be the room my grandmother slew and ate my first two lovers at but her cruelties have a way of staining any places she claimed. And standing here is enough to remind me of… of–

Don’t even notice the soft tendril and hand gripping mine for a few heartbeats. My first Beloved sensing my pain and now standing beside. Quietly bubbling with a little worry but… mostly just soft support and love.

“Thank you.” I whisper, grip her hand tighter as my headstalks tilt to wrap about and caress her dark hair. “How are you?”

Can’t see the Curse’s bite either. Couldn’t before but… with larger workings it should bite harder. But she seems… uncaring to any pain.

She whispers. Voice so clear, mingling happily with her song. Finding calm focus to convey words without trouble here in this quiet moment. “Is oke.”

“I’m not sure if you’re answering my words or feelings, Beloved.” I chuckle, and let her warmth and care thaw my worries.

“Um… Both?” Lyra giggles and grins, glances over with just a touch of worry. “Is that okay?”

“Always.” I nod. “My deepest perceptions are yours to feel as you need them.”

She hugs me tighter, still humming her symphony of healing and hiding but… focusing less on it. Watching as the people of her city and Rift fill this space. Gifted supplies by our helpers before leaving or… well, a few are being ushered into the Sea-Shell gateway to be shuffled to the home Lyra’s asked it to lead them to. Our manor and it reconnecting.

A touch scary at first. Watching the stark-white sea shell twisting into our home as both seemed to rumble very loudly. Apparently they’d been quite lazily distant. Aware and connected but… like I am with most of my living family. Not thinking that speaking will go well. Much less their version of talking.

But, between Lyra and Awnya, both seemed to wind together happily after an initial clash. And our home and this one now mingle in hallways that twist to ways I’ve been warned to avoid by my Beloveds.

Apparently that’s where certain aspects get… dangerous. The rules that make our home inhabitable become mere suggestions. And it’s also where they hope this second of our manor’s kind can learn to pull itself into the Blighted Sea. Learn to turn that into the enriching sustenance ours and Lyra can.

“Oh.” Lyra huffs, pulling my idle thoughts to the present. “Tr– trouble.”

Look up and around, see nothing.

“What is it, Beloved?” I ask.

“Big S– soul.” She replies softly, eyes locked straight ahead. "Could b- be d- dangerous."

Ah, something she’s sensing out in her Rift and city. Good. Not an ambush or sudden strike on us.

“The Fae? Or… one of Thendra’s?”

A shake of her head, along with a purse of lips. “No. Um… their s– soul is angry. L– like Raska’s.”

“An Everflame?”

She nods. “I… think so?”

“Okay. Then we’ll call for our girl to explain things and see if words of peace are appropriate. Are they coming this way?”

My beloved pauses, then nods. “Yes.”

“And they Riftwalked? I’m guessing.”

“No… W– walked through the F– forest or… or storm?” She replies.

Take that in, then nod and turn us back to the Sea-Shell gateway. Have Lyra reach out and weave songs of request for our Everflame and Beloved to join us.

** ** **

“How many Sparks can you feel inside them?” Raska finally asks, cerulean spark-flame eyes locked on the street.

“Um… lots.” Lyra murmurs, eyes distant as she counts. “O– over ten. S- seven are w– wi– wiggling together. L– like you’re sometimes do. But allw– ways.”

We've moved to stand outside my families old Estate. Wait and watch the passageway for the blazing guest we expect to arrive anytime now.

“Yeah… Only know a few handfuls of Everflames that can get that many sparks to burn together.” She sighs, nods to herself.

Apparently, the bubbling enjoyment Raska’s spirit woven sparks have for Lyra has led them to put aside grudges and differences when regarding my Beloved. Causes them to work together and offer her anything they can.

Which has led our Everflame herself to seem more… stable. Calm.

And hopelessly smitten with Lyra.

“You know them?” Awnya asks.

“Probably?” Raska huffs, running hand through short hair while that spark between her horns sizzling anxiously. “This is one of three types. A mad cunt looking to cause trouble. See if there is anything worth scavenging here. Treasures, slaves, Sparks, anything. Might even fancy trying to kill and usurp the new Goddess.”

Lyra lets out a gurgling growl at that, but shakes her head. “No. Don’t s– seem… hungry. Like that.”

“Slightly less mad would be someone looking to ally up with the new Goddess. Maybe made enemies we could protect them from.” She offers. “Less likely. Since settling Sparks inside takes time and luck and anyone who’s anyone keeps an eye on cunts building up power like that. But still possible.”

“Um… Also no.” Lyra whispers, focusing more. “Too calm. Curious. Confident. But… st– still f– focused.”

“Then… An Envoy, most like.” Raska says, nodding.

“Which is actually not bad at all.” Awnya offers. “People wanting to talk instead of being stupid gooses sounds just the song we’re hoping for.”

“We do need to start making peace at the least.” I agree. “Allies at best.”

“Yeah… Everflames tend to want partners to burn their enemies with. But peaceful trade and stuff can happen if we’re dealing with some bigger flames.” Raska murmurs, then eyes us. Flame stilling to calm focus. “So how do we wanna handle this? I can do the talkin’ if you’d like. Settle the embers for you to decide to how to handle this?”

“Seems a good plan. And Lyra can read you if they’re gonna be a problem.”

“Exactly. Can even stay shrouded and let us act as your Envoys.” Our Everflame agrees and looks to Lyra. “I… Don’t want you to feel pressured to share words with every cunt that might tumble in wanting your attention.”

Lyra nods, openly relieved. Steps forward to hug Raska. Nuzzles her and all the spirits within with endless soul tails. “Will b– be close of th– they try t– to hurt.”

After that we wait together. Lyra shrouded but gripping mine and Awnya’s wrists as this new Everflame arrives.

They’re tall, well-muscled, and with countless horns sprouting down their back alongside the half dozen crowning a bald head. Clothed in chitin and leather, more than a few dulled daggers melted fully into the armor like spines or trophies. No weapons otherwise though. Or supplies.

Eyes twinned scarlet sparks with a blazing soul to match. One I quickly decide to not stare at for too long with how brightly it burns. Not as big as Lyra’s, or quite a few others with impressive flames, but… well.

Loud. To my already sensitive Amwella sight.

But as their eyes find Raska such a grin takes spreads across those lips.

“Heya Raska.” Are the first words spoken. Voice still a rasp like our Everflame’s but… deeper. Harsher. And tinted with amusement and glee at what she sees.

“Mictrikia.” Raska greets them steadily. “You following my soot trail or just here to greet the new Goddess for our mums?”

“Mostly the first, but… both. Honestly.” They shrug, eyes dancing back to take my Fae and I in. “Everyone was worried you ran off and got killed, or just decided everything you built for the family didn’t matter again. But… Dead Cinders, Imagine their surprise when I tell them the rumors I’m hearing that you’ve gone and allied up with the new Godthing of Theradas.”