CW:

NEW snek POV! Furthonois wiggles and talk of soul watchings and talkings and tendril snuggles!!! Talk of killing and eating lovers.

It’s… been so wonderful to listen to the sway and tilting of my new Mistress’ thoughts.

She’s… endlessly enthralling. Knew that from the first moments I met the girl all those years ago. But was almost worried Thendra would push her too hard. Not clumsily breaking her but… intentionally cracking Lyra into just a husk of empty motions and obeyed commands as she withered or hardened.

Just another Reaver devoid of any vibrancy amidst the clutch.

But no. She was waiting. Scheming. Incubating her spawn from within a slave to hatch forth. Somehow a brew of wretched misery just a shell to Lyra’s deep love for the last starlight in a life so empty of anything else but pain and agony.

But how Lyra blossomed at being snatched up by her now Beloveds Bound again!

Was curious what I’d find if I ever slithered up from the Well after my death. Almost expected more of the same before she tore me apart all over again a few more dozen times.

Endless agony and misery. Thendra sitting atop Theradas' broken throne with Lyra kneeling at her ankles.

Not this. Not… not at all…!

Get to pretend to nap while she stalks my old city alone. A place she’s ravenously torn apart and rebuilt for the slaves of Theradas and muses over how best to care and protect them.

'Fixing something is supposed to be harder than breaking it. Right? Growing a pretty flower takes longer than uprooting an entire garden.' She thinks very loudly. Uncertain how to hide her bigger thoughts from the spirits she let’s rest within the deepest folds of her soul.

'But then why has this been so… simple?' She growls and fiddles with that spirit hook more and more lately. The shard Thendra buried deep within Lyra’s soul. Almost killed her during the working, from what glimpses of memory I’ve caught. Even if the girl doesn’t realize that and I've not the chance to share my suspicions.

And like always she stretches her Naranggas out to brush every passing bit of Amwella in her city of Sand and Blight Spice. Weaving little songs of healing and calm and… and safety. Helping them know that she’s here and helping.

Protecting.

And all the souls she feels glow with such… bubbling joy! Fear and terror draining from them at almost the same pace as the first gift made for them does. An endless supply of water. Tugged right up from the boundless sea of Blight.

Giggling with… with all the good stuff this Dream wants to give. As she's come to believe after reaching down and touching the Blighted ocean slowly drowning this place

So… very adorable. The way her thoughts sway and weave. The words she uses as she describes ‘the pond' she wove weeks ago and it’s growth. Fast too. Slowly flooding the lower levels of the ravine Theradas sits atop and within. Blight twisted into enough cool Fae springwater for this Rift and probably three more on top of that. Even nurturing some ‘really pretty and wiggly plants’ to crawl up and about.

But she goes quite for a long moment. Thoughts a whirl with worry.

'So why am I so scared? Feel like I’m just… not doing enough?' She asks no one. 'Even Raska’s sibling seems really sweet. Despite how much their Amwella worries me. Seven sparks swirling various colors to match one big thought path. Feels… I dunno. Messy. Somehow. Not like how my Everflame is when all of her five spirits glow in agreement on something. Normally something involving me. Often like when a sleepy panther hears their favorite food or snuggle partner is hopping past and they’re deciding if they can pounce.'

'But Mictrikia… they’re spooky. Always focused on the same thing. Like an entire tree falling together because down is the only way to go. Controlled burning that I can tell would be really scary if all of them turns to anger.'

Then… she thinks about my words to her about my understanding and history on Everflames.

I told her how… Spirits can do that to each other. How it takes a type of spiritual consumption. Similar to what was happening to her when she consumed my mantle. Our wills clash, and one comes out less bruised and broken than the other. Sometimes it's as simple as when two things of flesh might fight. But… other times…

It’s like how a rock with jagged edges is chipped and smoothed to sit softly and without resistance to that which holds it. A removal of will that doesn’t match the stronger’s demands and schemes.

Lyra shivers at the memory and idea. Like she did then too. And stopped asking about the wretched subject of how spirits can force others to submit to their will.

She still thinks I’m asleep. But does turn her wandering thoughts to me then. Not things of judgement or anger but… worry.

Even Sympathy.

Because I could not hide my own pain from her as I explained these things.

How I understand this subject intimately well because… because I suffered that. When the worse things took to forcing their way into the folds of my spirit. Watched first as other allies I gained within were torn apart and cast back into the shadows. Then I felt them latch onto my thoughts and will like some sand writhing serpent springing out to strangle prey.

And while I was still the strongest in size and security. Anchored to flesh and unable to be easily killed by them. But… I was trapped feeling them wrap about my every muse and consideration. Squeezing and hissing and biting and… and worse and worse when I didn’t let their desires reign over mine.

Quickly chose submission to trying to battle such ruthlessly horrid things. Let my will once again fall secondary to the cruel desires of others.

A slave once again. Despite how much I tried to pretend otherwise for a few decades.

By the time I was able to understand the Art of conflict with spirits within… I was loath to try and fight the creatures that had taken my flesh and mind as their property. Just… existed.

Didn’t realize I was falling to weeping pathetic pieces within my new Mistress’ soul till both she and her Kujdestar pulled me close and held me through the rush of horrid memories.

Knew exactly how to help, what soft thoughts to murmur and share. Comforting an old stupid Lithy as Waking Nightmares tore at her. Helping me calm enough to try and rest and think on otherwise softer things. Thrumming with not a hint of annoyance or fury or judgements I very easily deserve, just… the desire for me to feel safe and stop hurting in my own time.

Even avoided speaking to Raska or this new Everflame to avoid sparking me to more silly spasms.

Too kind. Endlessly. Can’t let her be kind to worse sorts that would pretend sweetness to sneak into these spaces and hurt her and these wonderful young she’s allowing me to hold close.

But I am settled. Calm. Can’t sleep like I could in flesh but can ease all thoughts into gentle muses.

So soon she’s turned back to her chosen tasks. Prowling her city and stretching her impressively acute senses in search for monsters. And when she finds no more… Shifting to anyone who needs either healing or help finding where to get food or water or even just a little soft snuggle from a tendril.

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Nothing too big or very noticeable for most. But…

Dreadweave’s Bane… Does she glow as her work makes all feel safe and happy. And they talk about it too. Say lots of loving things about getting their new Goddess’ blessing despite never even glimpsing her form.

Still doesn’t let anyone see her when outside the manor. Prefers to be quiet when exploring her Rift. Hidden beneath a gentle weaving of shadows and silence. Not even a Fae Song anymore. Just… will. Focus. Her large gorgeous soul is totally hidden from the deep sinking core to the farthest tip of a Naranggas.

And… my Mistress’ beloveds aren’t pushing her to change that. Understand how scared she is of strangers seeing her. Not even worried they’ll hurt her just, so tragically, believing all will see her as either a broken monster or a weak stupid girl.

Which is both terribly sad that she’s so blind to the beautiful strength she carries. That each scar anyone sees, and that includes the ones that make her speech difficult, are balanced by the fact that she bears such power and relentless determination. All who miss that or think her soft and easy to strangle will find nothing but humiliating defeat under her endless sea-bed’s crushing weight.

But amidst her contradicting thoughts to my own, she thinks quite loudly amidst her muses…

'Songless Fae.'

And her first bound spirit, her Kujdestar, the one she simply thinks of as her nameless ‘Fuzzy Fae’, perks up from its place snuggled about my nap. Eyes Lyra in such pointed disapprovals.

An old spirit. And one I never met or sensed or heard others speak of. Must be... beyond ancient. Trapped within the Well for countless ages.

Huff and grumbles feelings at her no one else will hear or understand. Even me. So new to this space and not very perceptive of the way they’ve found to communicate. Probably lots of subtly of Fae Song within their minds to match.

“Sorry.” Lyra finally whispers aloud, softly and without much trouble even. “Just… S– scared. Trying to… to be a good G– goddess. B– better than before. B– because I hurt them before. Was a monster. Or… at l– least one that hurt them. For y– years and years. Killed so many and hu– hunted others for Furthonois and… and…”

Almost sigh aloud and alert her to my attentions. Both in regrets and wish that I… I could have be the type of Godthing in life that was able to help her. And not a wretched host to a worse amalgam of a dozen ravenous spirits who’d have only wanted to pull her into more suffering.

Wordless thoughts pass between her and the Fuzzy Fae, and it returns to soft supportive silence. And Lyra returns to her work. Healing and hugging the souls of more people. Shifting so easily between steps like some Cinderkin with a knack for the trick.

Getting more and more distracted though. Fiddling at that shard that lets Thendra spy on her every soul’s thoughts and shapes. Even with enough confliction that… that I decide to nudge at the topic.

[I’m pretty sure she was lying about that.] I murmur softly, as one rising gently from slumber.

She still almost flinches, but otherwise just looks to myself and her littlest children in confusion and surprise. 'Huh?'

[Her threat. To leave and never be found by you again if you gave her that shard back.] I clarify easily. [She’s lied to you countlessly, and this seems a perfect moment to weave another. Or a half truth. You bear her children, and she already admitted to meaning to find them after they’ve claimed independence and such. So… what happens if you cast that away, and she finds one of these Jellyfish at a later date? If you come looking and stumble across them together? Do you truly think she’d run off just to keep this promise?]

She huffs in annoyance at that. At my soft poking at the possibility that her ‘Dark Goddess’ was just saying those things to scare or hurt her. Control my new Mistress more.

'Can’t even begin to figure out what I’d do to know.' She grumbles aimlessly. 'Because, I mean… She keeps her Oaths. Not always how I wish she did or think she will. But…'

I challenge her thoughts with gentle whispered thoughts. [Words given to those considered slaves and tools are not great promises, dear.]

She growls a bit at that. The words I used.

[That’s what she called you.] I continue, but softer. Just… echoing the next thoughts I can almost see rising up for her to chew on. [And I’ve promised to aid you as best I can. Gift you knowledge and perspective. Things I… I wish I’d understood. So please understand that I don’t speak this out of cruelty, but out of experience. Simply… because my first Mistress saw me as much the same.]

She winces, and I feel and sense the fractured recollections. Those memories she got after killing and eating my soul and mantle. Such… oddly heartbreaking things to her. Then and now.

'What happened to her?' She asks as her eyes look up to find where her feet have led us.

Then bites lower lip as the Temple to the old Goddess of Theradas sits before us. Empty and quiet. Devoid of even the smallest of souls. A place no one wants to visit after their new Goddess tore through it on her first Reaving of monsters from her city.

[Utaka? My old Mistress? She…] Then I let out a such a spirit woven sigh as I answer her. Wincing at the old dull scars shaped like memories. [Another sad tale, I’m afraid. She was one of the first souls I demanded join me after I recovered from my victory and returned from giving the Fae and other Godlings my Oaths. Took her as my First Consort. Thought her wise and able to help me manage the power I just gained. But… I found quickly that great wealth, especially inherited, made her only seem smart and well-respected. Was actually quite the fool. Soon she was simply another pillow slave amidst a sea I kept close. Only good for a steady supply of soulflame and… unfortunate reminders to the vulnerability she was to me.]

'Oh.' Lyra murmurs. Then begins to ask. 'Um… Did you…?'

But she hesitates. Eyes rolling over the dark and empty space. Unable to say those last terrifying words.

[Love her? Always. But… eventually spite and fear won out.] I whisper. [Love was an indulgence I was quickly learning held little reward for me. Especially as more ruthless spirits started rising from the Well within. So I devoured her Amwella entire before any could use her against me.]

Lyra flinches, even goes a bit… sick. Bubbling memories of killing her Beloved Watcher rising up in parallel to my admission. Like some great wave of blighted sand about to burry her and probably both us spirits as the grief sparks anew. So try to pull her focus to my wretched actions and not try to compare them to her tragic accident.

[Like I said. A sad tale. Definitely… felt something inside me die when I did that though.] I press. carefully. [I’ve no illusions about myself, Lyra. What sort of… of monster I became, and still am in many ways. But I’ve centuries to consider my mistakes, and the tragedy of how few options I had. How my lack of understanding or steadfast reliable allies set my path before me. Or the ways the Spirits that rose up dredged us into certain habits that kept me docile to their wills.]

'Choices that aren’t choices?' Lyra asks, reaching up to wipe the tears I feel away before they can dribble too far.

[Exactly. Your Beloveds and that Everflame see this true. There is a weight and flow to life. One that will crush or carry all those who either can’t move, or don’t take the chance in time.] I agree and let myself glow with delight at how much time her Bound Beloveds have put into helping her find the words for the way slaves are broken to function. [We… are responsible for our actions, to claim otherwise is to ignore the ability to improve. But nor are we alone along our path. And many put a great deal of effort in ensuring we walk certain roads. And… if I am being honest. Which I’d very much like to be. I’ve seen a great deal of your memories in these past weeks, dear. A side effect of you letting me care for these little ones in the maybe parts of your soul. Thendra, the Fae, and many many others robbed you of your honest choices with acts of manipulation and coercion. And I know this, because much of your past mirrors my oldest experiences. Especially from before I was a Godthing.]

She doesn’t know how to reply to that as she moves through the temple, and the Fuzzy Fae just… drapes itself around her shoulders like a cloak of soulflame. Nuzzling and radiating support unending.

Worry for a moment I’ve pressed too hard. Offered too many thought words woven too tightly to accept. But… I can also feel her working through them. Chewing apart the mess to smaller more digestible parts.

'I… I don’t want to be like you. Or the Godthing you killed.' Are the words she eventually shares with me. 'For lots of reasons. But… mostly because I want my Jellyfish to not suffer like we did. But also want that for all the souls here. In Theradas. Farther if I can. No more slaves in the Rifts. Because the more places that are soft and kind make it harder for… for…'

Pauses as she stands over the spot where I died. Can… can even still see the chipped tiles where that screaming sword impaled my flesh as the final thoughts are shared so softly.

'For them to meet and feel that their only safety comes from a Dark Goddess.'

I thrum hard and relieved agreement. [That’s a worthy goal to strive for. And so much more possible for you than it ever would have been for me.]

Another long pause.

'Did you try?' She asks. 'To end the slavery in Theradas before the worst spirits rose up? Help others like you?'

I hesitate, feeling my spirit writhe uncomfortably under the pointed questions. Carefully trying to find words. [I… tried to make things better. At first. Saw the butchery and waste within Theradas and… but… No. I did not even consider that it needed an ending. Just… reshaping. Thought all that tried to do so foolish beyond annoyance.]

I worry she might take offence at that. Think I’m insulting her Beloveds, especially since I was the one who wove two traps to catch her Beloved Fae.

But she only asks with calm curiosity. 'What about now?'

Hesitate again, think on all the words I could offer. Immediate agreements and declarations of easy support. But... can't allow myself to give her anything but my truest feelings.

[I… don’t know. Honestly. This time of peace seems gentler than anything I thought possible. Especially with you so easily tossing all your problems into the Blighted Sea. But... I worry it cannot last. That your kindness will be used against us all and end in either another worse sort taking power.]

My Mistress nods. 'But if it can? Like how my Beloveds have in the manor?'

[Then I’ll help you knit that into shape. As much as an old Keshada can.] I agree. [Just like I promised. Can even start gifting your Beloveds what I know about the slave trade as its woven through the Rifts within Dreadweave’s and Ukalon’s domains.]