I can only whimper and curl in on myself. I can tell how badly they want to reach out to me, to hold me and sing… but they can read my sorrows well. Know I would panic and reel from even the most gentle touch. So they keep a safe distance.

“Lyra, I am so very sorry. I… I never…” They finally whisper, need to take a deep breath and restart. “Looking back I understand how… how you could think I felt that way toward you. I handled things very badly then. But… Lyra I never bore any anger toward you. Only at our mother. For laying the burden of the Fae song upon your shoulders.”

I glare down through the tears, “Why? This is… This body is perfect! It’s me. Finally, perfectly me!”

“You don’t need a Fae body to be–”

“It’s not being Fae that makes it perfect!!!” I spit. Anger rekindled.

They pause, confused.

“That… That makes it better, but…” I look away, not wanting to speak about my oldest pain. I wipe at the tears, “Did… did mother never tell you?”

They quirk their head, confusion through the tears.

No. That… that makes me love her even more. She only ever saw me as I am. Probably didn't even... didn't understand how this could hurt me once I told her that first time.

“I was born… wrong.” I stammer. Old human broken parts rearing up and ruining my control as the memories crash and tear through me. “The human’s who b- birthed me… they hated me. B- beat me. A lot. Then they eventually tried to kill me.” I fight so hard to steady my words. “I ran and… barely got away. Th- then mother found me.”

A startled intake of breath, then a long and horrible pause. I brace for… Rejection? Argument? Sudden hatred? I’d gotten that and more from my human parents.

“I have thought poorly of our mother since I first met you…” They whisper. “Believed she snatched up and led some human child to dream of Fae things they could not hope to carry well. But… she was helping you? Giving you the life and love you should have always had.”

I turn, see their fresh tears and shaking of sadness.

“Why did she not just tell me?” They gnash their teeth. “I would have… we could have handled things differently. Better.”

Voice steadies, and so does my heart. “It shouldn’t have mattered.”

They sigh, disagreement plain in the sound.

I turn away, anger rekindled. “I’d like to leave now.”

“I can’t let you. Won’t let you.”

“It’s my life. Let me choose how I will live it, Usete.” I grind my teeth. “Do you really want to make this mistake again?”

“Rot and Ruin, Lyra NO… I just…” The fumble at the words. “You… You really don’t understand how dangerous you are, do you?”

I glare back, “No more than any other Fae.”

“You’re wrong.” They fall back to sit, legs fold across each other. “And from what I’ve seen, both in your past and present, it’s so much worse than I could have imagined.”

“You sound like Thendra.” I murmur, but instantly regret the cruelty of it.

I ache for her. She would distract me from this pain.

“She…” They only purse their lips. “It’s probably why she covets you so.”

“At least she lets me sing. You and the other Fae wish to strip me of that… and more.”

Usete’s eyes focus on me again. “She’s hurt you.” It’s not a question.

I shrug.

“How has she bound you to her so tightly?” They whisper, “Convinced you to lock away your songs behind a Dreamer’s Lamentation?”

That makes me flinch. “You saw?”

“I had to heal and dress you. Of course I’d notice such horrid things on my own sister.”

The word still makes me flinch, causes little pinches of pain in my heart.

“It… I don’t…” I sigh, look down at my blackened hands. “She gives me what I didn’t have. A piece of it, at least.”

“She doesn’t love you, Lyra.” They press.

“I know that!” I spit. “I don’t... I just want to be wanted. To not be alone in those cursed woods.”

They do reach out then, toward my blackened fingers. Hover just out of reach. “Do you know what this is?”

“My death. The cost of the horrid words I sing for her.” I pull back, but don’t try to hide them. “I don’t regret any of it. Just hope I can die singing while she fucks me.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

They don’t give me the reaction I was hoping for. A surprised balk or revulsion at my words and desires. Just… only a pained smile moves across their lips.

“You’re… correct, but only in the base sense.”

“I don’t care.” I shrug, annoyed their pressing this. “Beloved sibling. I’m not going with you. I’m going to find her.”

“I… I can’t let you.” They pursue their lips. “I must return you to Fae elders. They can help you heal.”

“You’ll try, and I’ll fight. Curse or no.” I glare down at them.

“You’ll tear yourself and the Dream around you apart.”

I chuckle humorlessly at that. “Probably. But the Dream will go on. Or you can just… move, and It won’t happen.”

“No, sister, you misunderstand.” They tap my hand, “Your songs, your very soul. Stirs the dream. Threatens an awakening event that could… well… hurt a lot of people.”

I pause at that. “Is… is that why you hated me? When you saw me as Fae?”

“I never hated you.” They force out with such…. Anger. But not at me. “I hate what being Fae meant for you. That your past of agony and despair would curse your songs to stir the Dead Dreamer. And that our mother did not warn you of this.”

“Oh.” Is all I can whisper after a very long silence passes between us.

“What if…” I whisper, preparing for my beloved sibling to actually hate me. “What if I told you that even knowing that, and believing it. I don’t care?”

I don’t look at them, just… stare down at my blackened hands. “This Dream, this life has always hated me.” I continue, and prepare my words of horror and agony, and returning torments. “I finally found something in it that makes me happy.”

Amwella rises, curse prickles, words ready.

“And I will sing the cunt awake if anyone tries to take that from me.” I turn to glare down at my target.

My beloved sibling only stares up at me, pain and sorrow plain. “Okay.” They whisper.

A long pause. I ready my Amwella to rend myself free of their grasp, or end in the attempt.

“I’ll make sure you can go back to her.”

I choke and gasp as it all falls away. “What!?!”

“Thendra is…” They look down at their shaking hands,. “Lyra, she… I’ll never forgive her for what she’s done to you. But…” They turn up to look at me. “Come back to the Fae-Wood, let some elders… let them see if they can help you. Settle the dream, heal your soul. And then you can… live with whatever horrible person you desire.”

“I barely trust you, much less the other Fae.” I sigh, “They’ll want to strip my songs and form.”

“What if I swear to stop them?” They press, “Your hands weren’t always like this, which means you’ve shown you can control the stirring. Even with your wounds. Even under Thendra’s horrible influence you only progress a little at a time.”

“I…” That makes me pause. Considering…

“Please,” They beg. “I won’t… won’t betray you again. Won’t let anyone hurt you or take your songs or form.”

I shift… pain lances up through me. I’m also still healing. I could easily die if I tried to use those words again right now.

“Sing me your intentions. Give me a promise in song.” I demand, expecting to need my horrid words anyway.

They do so, without hesitation. And by the end of the melody I can’t help but need to wipe away tears. Their confessions laid bare and raw. Their hands hover out toward me, a question given physical form at the end of their song.

I reach out, touch fingers to theirs.

“Okay…” I murmur. “But… I want you to free Thendra before we go. And I want you to tell her where I’m going and why you're taking me. And I want to have time for my body and Amwella to heal before these Fae elders come anywhere near me.”

My sibling grimaces, but nods. “Alright. I hate that, but I can do all those things.”

** ** **

“She what?” I wince, but am not surprised.

Usete left me for time. I almost... almost tried to leave. But... how would I even help Thendra? The only pathway I know into the Rorliras is in the Matron's estate. And to return there would mean my death. I'm not even sure I could hobble back to our home in the city. Not in this state. Not... not without putting myself in danger of being snatched up by the first hungry flesh-drinker who wanted to take a bite.

“She’s… much more powerful than I would have guessed. Even in that place. My sibling sighs and nods. “Tried to kill me through the entire conversation.”

“Dreamer’s Tits” I curse. “I should talk with her… make her… I can try and make her understand.”

Usete shakes their head. “She won’t let you go.”

I can’t help but smirk at the possibility. “You’re not wrong. It might take a few days. But, I really think I can get her to… to let us work this out.”

"Lyra." My sibling lowers themselves to meet me at eye level, face hard and uncompromising. “You’re not a person to her, not an equal. Not even one of her Reavers. You are a slave to her. She views you as stolen property.”

I grind my teeth at that. They’re not wrong, but… maybe she could… Especially if I came back...

“Fine! Just as long as you freed her from that place.”

“It’s… not just that, Lyra.” They murmur. “We need to leave today, go to the Fae-Wood now.”

“What? Why?” I stammer. “You said–”

“I’ll keep to my promises.” They hold up a hand, “But… Thendra and her Reavers are already searching for you. And the Matron hopes to find you first to avoid her discovering about the attempt on your life. My glamor can work to an extent, but we should already be gone.”

“Where will I even stay?”

“With someone I trust. Someone who would help you escape if needed.”

“Okay,” I sigh, “Who is this person to you?”

They smile, a bit of trepidation. “Same as she is to you.”

** ** **

I hiss as the familiar scents of the forest wash over me. “I… I can’t do this.”

Usete squeezes my hand. “She’ll be delighted to see you, Lyra.”

Within a few moments of helping me rise, they had sung a beautiful riftwalking song and led me back to the branching pathways amidst the treetops of twelve years ago.

“That’s not…”

I betrayed her.

“I’d rather just… stay in my home in the Dreamer’s wood.” I sigh, “Would be easier.”

And… maybe Thendra would think to look for me there.

“I don’t even know how to get there.” They take a step forward, try to pull me along. “And we’re already almost here.”

I glance up, feel a memory scar tear and begin to bleed as I remember the spot ahead. Tense up.

“What?” Usete asks, looking forward. Thinks about why this place would cause my reaction. “Oh… is that…?”

“Mhm.” Is all I can get out. That’s where I surprised you. Showed you my new Fae form. Where you began your plans to–

“I’m… I’m so sorry Lyra.” They wince, turn back to me. “Let’s… let’s get past it. I can carry you if you’d like.”

I shake my head. “I can’t do this. Let’s just… camp out below, or–”

Someone is suddenly beside me, bumping past me as they walk.

I jerk, glance over. And there she is.

Shorter than me, dark red hair wound up in a bundle, simple dark shorts and a long shawl hangs about her. Wonderfully long ears tinted with midnight blues that fade into green scales down her neck. My mother’s arms are full with woven baskets filled with… bees? Makeshift bee hives?

“You two coming by for dinner, or are you just planning on pissing around on the pathways?”

“Mother!” Usete stammers, hums a quick tune to ward off the few swarming bees. “We… I didn’t see you coming.”

She doesn’t even stop, just… bumbles on past us. “Humph, I’d hope my glamor song is solid enough to fool two distracted children arguing on the path.”

“But–” They pull at me, this time with enough strength I have to follow or get drug along. “Why sneak around at all!?! Why not gre–”

“Because, little softshell,” She doesn’t even pause. “I’d rather hum a glamor to hide myself entirely than try to convince every hungry critter to keep off these hives.”

She’s… She hasn’t changed. Not one bit.

“Ah…” They catch us up to her, “So… Can I help you carry those?”

“Maybe if you had offered back at Opeda’s grove, but not now.” She grumbles, adjusts the hives, “I just got the queen to settle down for a nap. Besides, my little girl looks to need your help more than me.”

My heart flutters. That… that was the little pet name she’d given to me. Ever since she first pulled me from the underbrush and tried to give me a bath.

Without even looking back, “What’s wrong little girl? Can you not speak or walk? I thought we got you past that? Has Usete here done something?”

“No, mother.” I mumble, wiping at my tears.

“What’s that?” She glances back, deep brown eyes look me over, “Don’t mumble, I don’t have the patience for it and it’ll ruin any good songs you try and weave.”

“No, mother!” I nearly shout, a grin on my lips. “Usete has been… kind.”

“Hmm.” She turns back to the pathway, “Good. Dreamer’s Tits, I hate it when you little ones squabble.”

And then we’re at her treetop grove. The little patch of paradise she raised me in.