I push up blearily and with some stiffness, but nothing Thendra hasn’t inflicted me with before after a busy night of feeding. But… Dreamer’s Tits does my soul feel wonderful today! So perfectly healed after what must have been at least four or five feedings.

I let out a yawn, and after a moment of light magicless humming to let her know I’m awake before asking. “May I sing?”

There is a pause, very normal for her to wake up and consider this, but she never denies me my morning songs of–

“Hmm?” An unfamiliar voice.

I jerk, eyes flash open. Sudden fear that I’ve been left in bed with one of her Reavers and–

But… the lightly sunbathed room isn’t my home in Theradas. And I look down to see not the hungry Jade of Thendra’s gaze, but the warm Gold and amber of… of…

…Awnya.

“I… I’m sorry.” I stare down at her with horror and worry and embarrassment.

A hand touches my face, brow furrows in thought. Then she smiles, and it’s such a wonderful thing. All warmth and confidence and… something else. Something… not new. But…

“You alright?” She whispers.

I can’t help but lean into the touch. “I… I don’t know.”

“First embrace can do that,” She murmurs. “You feel good though?”

“Better than good, that was… but it wasn’t my first time!” I stammer. “I’ve never felt so… so complete the next morning! Never after… ”

She doesn’t interrupt after I trail off, doesn’t move or squirm at the sudden comparison. If she had I… I don’t think I’d have been very okay continuing. She just… waits. Slides a hand into mine to let me know she’s here and I can take all the time I need.

“Thendra… she…” I can’t stop the tears. “Why didn’t she do this with me!?! I… I know she would have loved it. It would have been wonderful and so much better than… than… when she… She just–”

Took and took and took. Big bites while leaving you shivering with body pleasure but… starving.

Awnya shifts us so she can sit up, but still keeps me on her lap, my legs wrapped around her waist. Pulls me into a hug. But… doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t press me for more details. Just… lets me decide if I want to continue talking.

“Dreamer’s Tits,” I curse through it, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Last night was so amazing and I’m ruining everything with–”

She just shushes me with little cooing nothings. Showers me with comforting squeezes, caresses and kisses.

“Thank you for sharing yourself with me,” She whispers. “Your soul is such a wondrous thing. So warm and very tasty.”

I can’t help but giggle at her, “Yours was too.”

“Want breakfast?”

I pull back, look into her eyes. “Yes. But… can… I mean if you're still…”

She quirks an eyebrow, content to let me figure out the words I want to use.

“Can I eat you? More?” I huff, “I… I’ve wanted to try using my mouth to…”

She laughs, warm and excited. “That is one of the best things you can ask almost anyone, Fae or not.” Then she pulls me into a deep kiss and we fall back into the bed.

** ** **

“I… I could try to sing the word of it.” I finally murmur to the Fae prodding at the Lament on my backside.

I’m sitting backwards on one of Awnya’s chairs, elbows crossed and my chin resting on them as they sit on its back. Three deft fingers poke and pull at the Lament on my flank. Awnya perks up at that from her seat next to me.

I can feel Equin, the woman examining my curse, pause, “Really? You can focus through this? Channel Amwella and form a melody?”

Awnya nods, “I saw her almost complete a Riftwalking song three times about a week ago.” She reaches out to take my hand, squeezes.

“Dreamer’s Tits. That… that must have really…” Then I can almost hear her bounce with excitement. “That would actually really help.”

Awnya had told me that she knew a Fae whom she thought would be perfect for my needs. Someone who studied and kept some of the Fae’s oldest records on the Laments, the Cursed Wood, and the Dead Dreamer herself.

Equin was the second ‘Elder’ to visit me. I’d found out then that being an elder was determined by experience and interest, not age. Awnya was only actually older than me by about a decade, while Equin was actually a year younger. The oldest elders might have centuries of understanding on a thing, and such beings were greatly respected. Apparently we Fae are obsessive. When we commit to a thing it's apparently very normal for us to become enraptured by it for a very long time.

It had been my choice if I wanted her to come take a look at my curses, and I’d needed a few days of just Awnya and I spending time together to finally agree. She hadn’t pushed. Just… mentioned it. Asked me to think about it.

I’d frozen up, hesitated. Warm glow of her eyes and smile pinning me against that rotten hope. The thing I had killed and buried.

The desire to have my songs back.

But… Better cursed than alone. Is all that I could hear clawing at my mind. It took all day of adventures through the Fae-wood and an evening of warm snuggles and sex for me to finally feel a spark of hope amidst the stagnation in my soul at the idea.

I’m not… not alone, am I? Thendra… she isn’t the only person who… The thought stings. Hurts like waking up after sleeping all night on an arm to find it numb and angry. I couldn’t help the tears it brought. But… I still want her. Curse or no.

“Okay.” I whispered into the dark as I lay atop Awnya on that third evening.

“Hmm?” She’d already begun to drift into slumber.

“Sorry.” I lifted myself up, looked down at her. “I… that woman you mentioned. I… I wouldn’t mind her taking a look at them.”

She nodded, sliding warm wonderful arms around me.

She understands, on some level, how hard that was for me to agree to. I… I still haven’t told her more about Thendra. But… Little bursts and bits have come stammering out at random times. Normally amidst tears and the need for cuddles.

“Do you need anything before you try it?” Awnya asks, pulling me from the memories.

“Water.” I whisper, then take a few steady breaths. “Mostly for after though.”

She nods and rises. Equin stops touching, leans back to wait.

“You ready?” I finally ask as Awnya returns with the drink.

“Mhm!” Equin replies. “I’ll be matching yours with a harmony of Amwella sight for myself if that’s alright?”

I just nod, then plunge myself down toward my Amwella. Begin to gather it up as the words of the Lament scorch my soul. Maybe it’s that I hadn’t endured pain for almost a week now, maybe it was the memory of the last time I’d sung this, or… or maybe because I knew this was a betrayal that Thendra would never forgive if she found out about it.

On the third try I finally am able to push through the pain and bitter guilt to form the word of the horrid curse.

I will only sing when commanded by Thendra.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

I will always sing when commanded by Thendra.

I will only stop singing when commanded by Thendra.

I cough and spit blood and bile. End up burying my face into my arms as choking sobs of pain tear through me. Awnya’s hand rubs anxious circles over my back and neck as I hear her trying to urge me to drink. Equin goes quiet as I obey and take a long gulp of water, then moves to stand beside us at the table. Once I’m recovered Awnya insists she take her chair and moves to stand behind me herself, hands working at the knots and tension in my shoulders.

“So… You told me the first curse was a duality. One of Sympathy and Spite.”

I nod.

She taps the table. “Even if you didn’t know the Fae words, you knew that to make the curse hit the hardest you’d have to not just anchor it to yourself, but twist it before linking her to you with it.”

I raise an eyebrow, tired and still hurting and confused. “I… No I… I just… needed her to know I meant what I was offering.”

“It's… a reflection, not a mimic.” She offers, “It will, say, hurt you if you try and seek out this Undreka person to kiss her.”

“Um…” I shake myself from bleary thoughts. “It was supposed to be in any capacity. Like… even if I wanted to hurt her.”

Equin smiles and shakes her head. “Eh… Well, it didn’t come out that way. Could have been because of the language you used, but…”

I jerk, almost shoot to my feet. “Thendra, she wants to–”

Awnya just barely stops me. “Woah woah, just… let her finish?”

Equin raises both hands. “Thendra is the person who got the spite side of this? Then Undreka is safe. Her reflection of the curse does the opposite of yours. It’ll only let her go near her in love or indifference.”

“Oh… OH!” I realize. “I didn’t mean to make it like that.”

“I don’t know if it would have worked so well any other way. It’s a really mean thing you knit.” Equin shrugs. “But if she wants to hurt this Undreka as much as you wanted to save her then... she’s perfectly safe.”

Awnya moves to give me a hug from behind. “I believe the words, kill, gut, and drink were used?”

I shiver, nod.

“Sorry.” Awnya gives me a squeeze. “Just wanted to eh… make sure.”

Equin’s eyes go a bit wide. “Yeah… yeah this curse will probably kill her if she tried most of… that.”

“Sorry.” I murmur.

“Nope it… it ties it all together.” She sighs. “I… This Thendra must be a pretty scary person to need something this nasty to keep Undreka safe.”

“She’s… She can be really…” I clamp my mouth shut. A long pause passes.

Awnya gives me one final squeeze and pulls back. “So. What about this other one?”

“Ah, yes…” Equin pauses, seeming a bit uncomfortable. “I… I think this one will be a bit more complex, to nullify or…”

Part of me sighs in relief at the revelation. Another smaller, older and rotten part begins to scream in anger.

Equin gathers her thoughts, “It’s… Single soulbound. The language is pretty strict and non-ambiguous, so that’s why its bite is way harder. I’d call it a Lamentation of Pleasure and Purpose.”

I jerk my head up at her words. Thendra’s offer ringing and tearing my soul in two.

Equin sighs. “But it… Well… these things are hard to pin down exactly. So long as you desire and seek those two things from this Thendra person, your songs are hers.”

“So… you're saying that if she just… stopped. Got herself to never want… those things. The curse would fall apart?” Awnya pipes up, a hint of anticipation and excitement breaking through.

Why even ask these stupid questions? Why does it even matter? I… I’ll never not want her. Never feel good about singing without her.

Equin shakes her head. “Even if it was that simple, the curse is still…” She wobbles about, fighting for words. “It’s a complex binding. I doubt there even is a way to break it, but if there was, you’d want to start there.”

The Matron’s words drift through me like the last bitter winds of winter. Her description of my curses. How she called them brittle.

Was she just… lying the entire time?

** ** **

I fall into a routine with Awnya after that. Days of running about the Midday Court and experiencing all its wonders and joys, while nights were spent in her arms. I… I almost come apart more than a few times. She doesn’t push me to talk if I don’t want to, doesn’t try and pry my emotions free to examine and dissect. And… I love her all the more for that.

Huh… Love?

I… I’m not sure I know what that really is. She’s shared more soul gazes with me, and if it wasn’t for the flitters of my violet outlined in black her Amwella cradles with such care and admiration I’m not sure I would call what we have love.

But I do weep every time I see the same things I feel reflected back at me in her soul.

I… I still want Thendra. Still find myself aching and cold some nights for her. But… I don’t want to leave Awnya. Can’t imagine a world without her golden eyes, easy smiles, and warm Amwella melting into mine.

“So…” Awnya says one morning as we both enjoy breakfast together. “I’ll need to head out for a bit. Couple days, three at most.”

I almost drop the fruit I had in my hands. “What?”

She smirks with an easy shrug but… can’t meet my eyes. “Nothing to worry about. I just… need to check in with someone. I eh…”

She’s lying. Why would she lie? Is… is she getting someone to do something to me?

A long pause, she glances up to find me staring.

“Dreamer’s Tits, Yeah sorry. I…” She sighs, but still smiles. “Sorry. It’s… Usete was supposed to be back by now.”

Cold fear. Terror for my beloved sibling. It’s been almost three weeks since they’d dropped me off here. Terror grips me at the thought that they might have been caught… been hurt or worse. By either Thendra… or the Matron.

I’m not sure who would be worse.

Awnya holds up both hands as she sees the rising panic play out on my face.

“Rorliras are tricky things, and if the bitch who managed to open it tried something stupid… well… It would take a while for Usete to deal with. It’s probably nothing.”

“Okay. I’m coming with you.” I immediately stand. Breakfast forgotten.

“Ah… No.” She doesn’t rise with me as her smile turns strained.

“You don’t know that city, don’t know…” I stammer, “If… if they’ve been captured or hurt or–”

“Lyra…” She gives me a sad smile. “I’m sorry… but, No. I need to move fast and unseen. And you…”

She doesn’t finish aloud, but I see the unspoken words make her wince. Don’t have any songs. I’m not Fae enough to help.

I dig blackened talons into the wood of the table. “But… I can… I’ll deal with the pain of it. They’re my beloved sibling. I… They… they did try to… They’re trying to fix things for me!”

I don’t say the rest, how I could talk to Thendra. Get her help. But… that I wouldn’t come back afterwards.

“I know. You're so strong, Lyra. But… You’d break yourself for them.” Awnya does stand then, moves to wrap fingers around my hands and pull them free before I can hurt myself. Brings them up to her lips to kiss them. “Right now the best thing you can do is stay here and heal. Usete would never forgive me if I brought you back, especially now.”

I’m crying then. Caught between desires and hatred for how useless I am. And she holds me through it. Settles us to sit on her little bed while I fall apart.

“I think you should stay at your mother’s till I come back.” She suggests as my tears settle. “She’d love to have you about some more.”

I wipe my eyes, “Maybe.”

“Please? It’ll take a load off me to know you’re not alone.”

So that afternoon I’m saying goodbye to her at the edge of my mother’s grove. I’ve pulled her into another long warm kiss, and would have begged her to embrace me once more before she leaves if it weren’t for my mother waiting back in the doorway to the house.

“Be back before you know it.” She whispers through a grin.

“Please be safe.” I plead as I drop useless talons to my sides.

“Always!” She grins, draws out a lilting song similar to Usete’s riftwalking melody, and disappears into a rift of azure light and warm spiced sand. I fight the urge to try and dart in after her just before the thing snaps closed.

It takes me half an hour to move, and I’m so grateful to my mother for just… letting me stand there.

But Awnya doesn’t return the next day.

Or the day after that.

Or… well… It’s day six now.

I stand on the back of the grove, glaring out over the spot where I was pushed. Considering the melody of the Riftwalking songs as I try to ignore the broken fingers the last four attempts have gotten me.

“Little Girl.” My mother whispers from behind me.

“I… I have to help them.” I don’t even look back at her.

And… This isn’t my life. Isn’t… I promised myself to someone. Sold her my soul. I have to go back.

She doesn’t reply.

“They could both be… be hurt. Or worse.” I hiss, coaxing my Amwella to boil and writhe.

Still… she remains quiet.

“Don’t you dare try to stop me.” I feel the Amwella begin to wrap and coil around my fingers. The curse is starting to bite already, trying to drain me of my beautiful gold and violet Amwella mixture.

“Do you remember what I told you, the last time you were here?” She whispers.

I glare back over my shoulder, see her tearstained face. Can’t speak as the song begins to bubble up from my throat.

So I nod.

“Good.” She smiles. “And… I’ll always be here if you need a safe place to rest.”

That makes me drop the Amwella and song, turn back, and pull her into a warm hug.

“I love you Mom.” I sob.

“I love you too.” She returns the hug with double the force.

When we finally pull away, I know what I need to do. Know how to force my way through the Rift. I turn, run, and jump. Amidst the rush and fall, I scream and without hesitation I tear the fabric between dream apart.

In hindsight, that was dumb.

While the momentum and rush of the fall gave me the emotional shift to slot the final notes into place, it also meant that afterwards I’d be moving at speed.

Sideways.

So… I end up shooting and tumbling across the sandstone streets of Theradas, until the hard wooden doors stop me with a painful slam. I spit bile and cough blood for a few moments, head alight with wiggling stars and disjointed colors. But eventually I’m able to recover my senses and take stock of myself.

Cuts, bruises, right hand is an absolutely useless mangled mess that still crackles with Amwella. Blood seems to drip over one eye. But… soon I’ll be able to sing without pain, and none of this will matter!

That brings my world into focus, and gives me the energy to stand. I turn and examine the door. There are no locks, just… a couple big metal rings. So I simply reach out, grip one, and push with my good hand and shoulder. It’s heavy. And takes me a full minute to grind it open enough for me to slip inside, all huff and gasping breaths.

I turn and–

Five Reavers stand amidst the fluffy couch things, claws and eyes alert and ready for danger. It’s… I don’t… the old memories of their feedings threaten to claw at the back of my mind, but at this moment I don’t care. All that floods my addled mind is the overwhelming heat and scent of spice in the air.

I can’t help but smile at them, and feel a bit of water gather in my eyes. They look at each other, a hint of relaxation, but… worry. Hesitation. Have… do they… Is Thendra still okay?

That sends a panic to cut though my joy like ice.

“Is Thendra here?” I ask.

One murmurs something to another, then they take off running up the stairs. Fast as a quick breath. I bite my lower lip, and over the next few moments a few other Reavers come into the room. I notice Hundat, her face remains… blank.

Drip drip drip

I look down, notice my hand has started to leave little blood droplets on the tiles below. The pain starts to reach me then too. Muscles and bones and skin beginning to alert me to all the problems and–

A shadow falls over me. I jerk up to jade eyes and a face of stone.

But I can’t keep the stupid grin off my face. “Hi.”

A flicker of something… not amusement. Annoyance is what radiates off her as Thendra carefully, and very slowly, reaches past me and pushes the door shut with ease.

“I’m… I’m sorry I…”

She doesn’t move her arm, simply releases the handle of the door to slide it up so that it sits next to my face. “It has been… weeks.” Her voice is flat, hard. Controlled.

Does… does she still…?

I huff, muddled joy tainted by fear. “I… Riftwalking is hard.” I raise up my mangled mess of a hand. “Took me a bit to get the song right.”

She growls at that. “You sing without my command?”

“Well it was either that, or wait for… for–” I mumble, looking away. Then I realize the phrasing of her words. Sing. Not… you sang. You sing. As in currently! And the core of her anger snaps into focus.

“The Lament is still intact, Thendra.” I jerk back, smile returning. That seems to jolt her. It’s subtle, but I notice the shift in her, and the room of Reavers behind her. “The Fae… they…” I huff again, drop my mangled hand, look up to meet her eyes. Try to convey my tired and anxious pain.

“May I sing? Please?”

She can’t seem to stop a little quirk at the edge of her lips, but her eyes remain wary.

“Upstairs.” She purrs.

Welcome back to Theradas.