Content warning:

-torture

-soul toture

-BIG emotions and family trauma

“I don’t know.” I stutter, expecting to need to ask her that same question.

She raises a hand, snaps fingers twice, and the thing around me squeezes, hard. Leaving only my throat without constriction. Ribs crack and bones ache, I feel something snap. I hiss and scream and struggle, consider calling up my Amwella to try and… But even reaching for it feels impossible. Like trying to carry a large stone from the bottom of a rushing river.

She snaps fingers twice again, then the thing loosens its grip, and I gasp. There is a pause, The Matron doesn’t repeat her question.

“Still in… inside.” I choke out. It hurts to talk, hurts to breathe. I long to sing to repair whatever deep injury I can feel bubbling up inside me. “I think. I… I don’t know. We lost the other Reavers when we went through the rift. Was only Thendra, me, and Bulderii.”

“What was your part in her plan?”

“Her plan was your plan.” I whimper as the thing wriggles and worms around me.

I squeeze my eyes shut as The Matron kneels.

“Look at me.” Her voice is steady, but the tone carries such a promise of pain I jerk to obey. Her eyes burrow into mine, and I feel… intruded upon. Like she can see through me.

“Did Thendra betray me? Did you sabotage this with your Fae Songs?”

“No.” I barely get out. It’s getting very hard to breathe.

She sighs, rises.

“Well?” Zitra presses, but with only a whisper.

“She’s exactly what you found her as.” She murmurs, “Just… a lost little slave. Broken. Very little will without her master.”

Voe perks up, “This is good news then. Thendra didn’t betray us!”

“Oh hush.” The Matron hisses, “Thendra betraying us, using this little Fae to try and sabotage our venture, that would be simpler. Easier to deal with.”

“Our watchers have seen nothing of her or her Reavers since they passed through.” Zitra adds. “Could we have gotten something wrong? With the equations?”

“No. Ours works as intended.” She glances back at me, “And she wasn’t lying. About any of it.”

“Please…” I beg, pain is becoming more and more of me, As each breath becomes a battle to dredge up. “I… I need her to let me sing.”

They all look back to me, eyestalks exchange looks. The Matron grins.

“Little Fae.” She purrs, turns to stand above me again. Ice prickles at the back of my neck at her tone, at the hunger in her eyes.

“Thendra mentioned your training was progressing… well.” She hums in a casual tone, “How well?”

I shudder, suddenly very cold inside. “I… I don’t–”

She huffs, annoyed, I brace for pain.

“Torture is over dearie.” She kneels, “Now, I’d like to discuss business.”

I want to look away, want to curl up in a corner and die. Want to find Thendra. But I’m held upright, restrained to meet her gaze.

“Please.” I wheeze. “Hurts. Hurts so much.”

“Oh... I know.” She coos, voice dripping with fake concern. “And I’d love to help with all that. As one of mine I would never have lost you in such a terrible place.”

“I can’t.” I whimper. “The curse. I can only sing for her.”

“I wasn’t bluffing all those weeks ago.” She leans forward, whispers. “They are strong, spiteful things. But... brittle. I can break yours.”

“You’ll give me…" I stammer, wheeze through pain and rotten hopes. "Give me back my…?”

Hope wriggles up and burrows into my brain. Foreign and gross. I hate it. I hate it so much. My songs are my soul, but what is my soul if I’m not with Thendra?

She giggles, and kills the hope she sees in my eyes. “No, little Fae. But bind them and yourself to me. And I’ll free you from all this unfortunate pain.”

Anger. Real and raw and hot enough to drive a stake through the pain boils up inside me. I’ll pour my hatred into a song before I’ll let you cut me from her. I begin to draw up my Amwella, muster every word and curse and blighted thing that rots in those rancid debts.

“Never. Give me back to Thendra.” I hiss dryly at her, glaring all my hate into her eyes.

She flinches back, nearly falls. What she sees in my eyes makes multiple tendrils rise in defense. Voe begins to draw her sword, Zitra takes a step back.

Then anger refills her eyes. “Very well then.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

One snap of her fingers, and the things around me begin to squeeze again. I jerk my Amwella up and feel the curse plunge into me, as I prepare to wail everything at her. It’s so hard, with the weight of all three of them smothering my Amwella, but I begin to manage to–

But then the thing tightens around my throat, and strangles me.

I pull and thrash and struggle, try and fight for even a single note past the constricting mass. But the thing's grip is nearly as strong as Thendra’s. The Matron nods, and leaves me to die. Zitra moves to follow, eyes Voe.

“Go. I’ll be along…” Voe doesn’t even look at her, just watches me struggle to bring death songs to bear, a sick little smirk on her face. “I’d like to eat her soul.”

Zitra sighs, and leaves. Voe's eyestalks flair out, and she approaches to stare over me. I feel her strange Amwella twisting and writhing around me.

“Such a pretty little thing.” She purrs and kneels. Fingers reach out and take my cheek. “But maybe… hm…”

Then I feel a little flicker of cold pain, become aware of a horrid cold soul beginning to poke and prod at my own. I try to snarl, to open my mouth, but she just giggles. And slides that same hand down and over the twisting thing that kills me. Finds some skin between the horrid things constriction and rakes fingernails over my flesh.

Then a piece of my soul is snatched up, and torn off. I would have yelped in pain if I could. Cold horror and fear and despair jolt through me as she continues to pick and tear at my little wounded core. It’s hard to hold onto that hot anger as the darkness gathers at the edge of my vision. As I feel more ribs crack and break. After a few seconds I feel something in my neck bend in on itself.

But I do manage to glare back at her. Picture my human parents as they cursed me and chased me from their home. Imagine Undreka as she threw me nearly across the room, spitting curses at my affections.

Watch as my beloved sibling shouts anger and contempt at my mother, talks of fixing her mistake and cutting my songs away, then…

… then the Fae steps from the shadows up beside Voe. Whistling songs of peace and sleep into her ears, causing the watcher to slump and pass out to the side. Then they kneel to weave a knife of pure fear into a song and direct it at the eye serpent that is killing me. It recoils, and I fall into their arms. But no breath can enter me as my windpipe is broken, so I just close my eyes and wait for the dream to end.

* * *

A wheeze of dry warm air, then consciousness returns in a rush of pain.

“Stop.” I hear Thendra say. I would weep at her voice if I could. Instead I roll over in the warm quilts to see–

Adonie… Usete of the Fae… Beloved Sibling.

They sit in a chair beside my bed, shoving aside a book to lean toward me, hand reaches for my shoulder and–

I recoil, try to hiss and shout, and end up coughing up blood and bile. They freeze, pull back with their palms up.

“Okay okay okay. I won’t touch you.” Soft words, careful. No bite or anger.

I jerk about, try to understand where I am, back up to the wall behind me. Small room, one window, one door, one target.

They slowly rise and step back from the small bed I currently inhabit, motion to the bedside table. “You should drink.”

It takes me a moment to understand their words, to even glance to the mug of water.

“Where am I?” I croak through a painfully dry throat, unwilling to move closer.

They remain as far from me as they can stand while still being in the same room. The archway behind them seems to lead into a hallway of some kind. I glance out the window, see the black sand and sparkling jade of the city.

“My home, here in Theradas.”

I glare back, Try to speak. Choke and cough more.

“Drink? Please?” They plead.

I growl, but reach out to snatch the water, almost dropping it. Glaring at them while drinking is hard, but I manage. When I finish it’s completely empty, so I clutch it like a good rock. Ready to throw the thing for a split second of distraction.

“Where is Thendra?” I manage.

Their face turns dark. “Still wandering the Rorliras pathways I left her in.”

I glower. “Free her.”

Their expression shifts, is pained. “Her cruelty is limited there. Contained.”

I push the light quilts off, move to stand. The black death is almost to my wrists now. This doesn’t bother or surprise me. But I am surprised to see I’m wearing light pants and a soft tunic. More clothes than I’d worn since... well my time in my woods. Or back with mother.

“Lyra, please.” They move to block the door. “Just… rest. Recover.”

“If you’ll not free her, then I will.” I hiss. “I’ll not let her die in that place.”

They sigh, “She’ll survive. Hopefully reflect and–”

“Then at least leave me there with her!” I shout.

That startles them, then a… an anger crosses their face again. Identical to what they had when wearing the face of Adonie. “I’d not leave the cruelest creature with that Dreamer blighted woman, much less my own sister.”

That makes me jerk back, knocks me to the bed in old pain that has nothing to do with my body's injuries.

But… but they never… never ever called me that. They told mother I was a mistake, a–

“She’s… Lyra she’s a slaver. A ruthless flesh eater. Has committed every foul thing and horrible stirring of the dream you ca–”

“I know that!” I stammer, eyes begin to water. Hiccupping sobs are beginning to overtake me. “I don’t care! Just–”

“Then why?” They plead, “Why beg to return to her, Beloved sibling?”

Them calling me sister… That hurt. Oh, Dreamer’s clit and cunt it hurts!!! But it’s the Fae words that break me. How they name me that without the slightest hint of scorn, just… annoyed worry at… at seeing a member of their family in pain.

“Why… why do you call me that?” I whisper through the sobs. “Why now?”

They jerk back at that, confusion washing away their anger. “What?”

“You never called me that!” I scream, rising back to my feet. “When I met you on the paths outside mother’s home. When I finally was Fae. I greeted you as my beloved sibling. I wanted you to love me and embrace me as family!”

“I–” Their mouth bobs open and closed like a fish outside of the river. “Lyra I–”

“But you hated me!” I growl, thrusting all my bitterness and spite in the words. “Yelled at mother for adopting me! Called on elders to come and take my songs from me!”

They reel back as if struck, lean against the doorframe for support. There is a long pause as I fight to recover my breath. Shouting isn’t something my body can do well right now.

“You would have let me die when they left me in the forest below.” I hiss.

That jerks them from their stupor, “Never! Lyra… I would have made sure you were safe and–”

“Mother had to send me to the Dead Dreamer’s Wood to protect me from that cruelty.” I point one blackened talon at them. “Your hatred and cruelty.”

Pain envelopes them then, and then I see the tears bubbling from their eyes. “I didn’t… She wouldn’t tell us where you ran to–”

I ignore them. Wrap myself in rage and anger to try and stop the wave of... some emotion I can't understand. Don't want to understand. Hatred and scorn is easier than whatever things approach behind...

“Mother gave me my songs, helped me weave this true and perfect form, and offered me the thing I had lost.” I shout through a wave of dizziness as I claw my other hand over my chest, “Family. But you stripped me of that!”

A long pause as I gasp and choke to recover my breath. Sides beginning to ache so much I long to sit back down.

Words fail them, so instead they sing. A melody of pain and anguish. Quiet and lilting. Subtle, but a perfect harmony to my own calling from so long ago. A sorrow to share with their beloved–

“Don’t!” I hiss, cutting them off. “Don’t you dare flaunt your songs at me. Not while I had to sell mine to gain some small measure of happiness.”

“What?” They manage to sputter out through the interrupted song.

“It…” I hug myself, shame consuming some of my fury. “It doesn’t matter. Just... go away. Pretend I died after mother sent me away. You'll be happier.”

“No. Please, Lyra…” They beg, “You are my sister.”

“Don’t lie to me.” I bite, but the truth in their song and words stings me deeper than any curse. “You never wanted me. Tried to have me killed and–”

“Beloved sibling, treasured family, one who’s pain tears through me like–” They force into the air between us, soft and sweet Fae words that ring so true it cuts through my bitter rage and pain. Let's that wave behind crash down upon me harder than the wounds ever could.

“Stop it.” I squeeze my eyes shut at the Fae song. Fall back to sit on the bed and press palms into my ears. I want them to hate me again, to... to scorn and glare down at me. I'd dealt with that burden for years, but this... oh Dreamer's Tit's It crushes me. To be... be treasured as family by this beloved sibling, to see another ache at my pain and suffering. It's... it's too much!

“-It’s mine own. Please let me help bear your burdens and ease your suffering.”

“Stop.” I beg through gritted teeth. “You… you don’t. You hate me!”

They keep from touching me, but between the sobs and my hands I can see them kneeling before me.

“May you find the peace I’ll never know as you heal the pain I caused you.”