Those blighted sots who dwell in Theradas? They make nothing, they weave nothing. Only spread the rot and ruin amidst the dream. I avoid that wretched city, only travel there when absolutely necessary. Many Fae have... they've sought an unweaving after trying to save the souls of those there. Become consumed with a despair so deep it drives them to embrace their old thoughtless life. One free of the knowledge of such things.

For if a city could wail Her torments, it would be that one.

- Ganzorig, of the Fae

Content Warning:

Attempted assault, violence, soul/body growths and alterations. Soul dismemberment (not of Lyra), soul feeding, and a little Fae having enough of this.

It’s halfway through the morning when I return to Thendra’s chambers. Bulderii is there, discussing something annoying and stupid that I can’t care about. I stumble past, drop my books off, and head straight for the bath.

Neither stop me, but I can feel their eyes on my back.

The rest of the day passes by quicker than I would like. I don’t sleep, almost… I almost try at one point. But… my dreams drift into terrors. Nightmares of writhing soulflame, horrid tendrils, and… rot. I end up jerking awake after only about a half hour. So I abandon the idea of rest and instead use the time to prepare.

“May I sing?” I finally huff in annoyance at Thendra after I almost fall off the chair when trying to alter and reweave a troublesome part of my soulfire.

She gives the command from across the room. I use the song to heal my body, sharpen my mind, and prepare for tonight. When Thendra allows me to stop her eyes linger on my core as the room goes quiet. Familiar glimmer in her eyes as she peers at my Amwella.

And I wonder… if even from there she can see the little hidden trap I’m laying? She doesn’t say anything, but… I swear there is amusement and… something else in her eyes as she looks back down to her scrolls. Dreamer’s Tits. I… I hadn’t even considered that she would disapprove of my work. But… that little look, real or imagined, is all the permission I need. It fills me with more anger and drive for the thing I plan to do tonight.

Twital wasn’t about when I’d gotten food for myself and Thendra the two times I’d been told to do it today. So as the night approaches, I find myself anxious and fidgety and… well... scared. What if this doesn’t work? What if… what if my Amwella can’t withstand the pressure? What if Thendra’s Reaver decides to use more than before to subdue me?

I choose to wander into Voe’s chambers as the night approaches. Zitra’s body is gone. But… but the scar still remains. Only just, and only if I’m standing at the right angle with my Amwella sight active.

The remaining watcher is still and gaunt and horrible looking. And when I focus on her Amwella I can’t help but wince and almost gag. Every little tendril it had has been ripped away, and while the wounds aren't weeping, the core looks deflated and shriveled.

I almost leave her there. Abandon this final desperate attempt to ensure I can defend myself from the flesh eater who’ll come for me tonight. But… then all my memories of Voe’s cruelty and hatred return and burn hot in my mind.

She’s no better than Twital, she could have avoided this room if she’d just… not been such a horrible monster to me.

I know the commands Thendra has given. Can see my curse slumber within her core. But I still kick her leg. She doesn’t move. I nod, and move to straddle her legs like I did before.

Then I’m carving at the watcher’s Amwella for more delicious soulfire to ensure my plan has a better chance of working…

I’m still shaking as I find the same room Twital ravaged me in last night. Partially in fear, but also in an after-feeding euphoria. She doesn’t wait half the night this time. Just… one second I’m checking over my Amwella for the millionth time today, and the next I see her shape in the doorframe.

A long silence presses down on me. I don’t close my eyes, but do take a few steadying breaths as a cold panic begins to overwhelm me. Have to… to grasp and scramble to replace the raw and mindless fear with anger and spite and–

“Hello, little Fae.” Twital purrs as her long ugly thing curls and unravels from her core. “Do you mean to submit quickly tonight?”

I turn my best glare to her, but don’t trust my words to come out as clear and as threatening as hers, so I decide to let silence be my answer.

She moves across the room, not as graceful or as fast as Thendra, but still faster than I can match. I’m sitting on one of the larger crates, putting myself at about eye level to the Reaver. She pauses as her own eyes glimmer with Amwella sight, filled with a barely restrained hunger as that long tendril begins to curl around me.

“I can’t say the struggle doesn’t wet my appetite.” She leans in, terrible breath wafting over my face and mouth. “And your Amwella truly is a feast to savor...”

Closer. Closer…. I need you close! Horrid Dreamer Blighted flesh eater!

Teeth and tongue caress my jawline and begins to slide along toward my mouth. Ugh, that’s right, along with biting she also tried to shove her gross blood rank tongue down my throat when she fed on me.

Hands begin to wander, and I decide she’s more than close enough. I kick forward and pounce, digging talons and teeth into her flesh as my legs wrap around her hips. She purrs out a cruel laugh as my force is barely enough to even shake her balance. “So eager? Maybe I’ll just carry you to bed, that way we can truly enjoy your–”

Then my Amwella settles against hers, and I spend a few seconds of her mewling to wriggle and position my soul at the base of the tendril, begin to wrap around and around and…

Her fingers trail down my rear, “How about I take the first bite right–”

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The tooth I’d fused to my soul springs forth in a sudden eruption of soulfire and motion. Sinks deep into the flesh-eater’s Amwella, then begins to saw at her core. Twital jerks and snarls at the sudden pain. Her hands twist up to grasp at my shoulders while her big ugly tendril fails to twist and get a hold of my little soul. But I keep going. Keep biting. Keep tearing and ripping and snarling at this Dreamer BligHTED CUNT OF A FLESH EA–

Then she’s slamming me into a wall. Fingers claw and tear into my arms and shoulders and lower areas as her snarls get more loud and furious. I almost lose my grip a few times, but the curled tooth I’m using to carve at her soul helps hook into her and hold me in place.

“Get off!” She growls and demands multiple times, each more loud and frenzied than the last as I carve deeper and deeper into her Amwella. But I can feel the true emotion behind her fury. Fear. Real and cold and nearly paralyzing. Can feel it… it beginning to dissolve and flake away her reason and thought. And for a brief moment, I wonder if I’m going too far? If… if she’ll ignore Thendra’s commands and just… break my arms or snap my neck?

But just as she slams me against the wall for about the fourth time, there is a horrible tearing sound, followed by a pop and a slurping and–

The shuddering euphoria of the unexpected feeding makes me lose my grip, letting Twital get horrible hands around and under me. And with a spin of her hips and shoulders she’s tossing me across the room into the crates. I hear something buckle and crack, and hope it was wood and not my spine or head.

I hear a… a sound. My eyes flutter open to see Twital stumbling and growling. My own vision is spinning with starlight and pain and wonderful pleasure. Her Amwella is bleeding and weeping such a fountain of soulfire. I get to watch as her tendril writhes and wriggles and flops about in… in…

Wait. Why… How is it moving? It’s not attached to her. Why is it so close and…

I look down and just… stare as my own core continues to subsume and merge her former tendril into me. Wince and gasp as little flutters of new sensations pierce my mind as I become aware of the oversized ugly appendage that is being fused onto my soul.

I… Wh… no. Get off!!! I… I don’t want…

I tremble in pain and pleasure and furious satisfaction as my eyes lift to peer at the wounded Reaver. She’s looking back at me now. Eyes wide with horror and fear and anger. A low growl misted with heavy pain drips from her mouth and soul.

Dreamer’s Tits, I can’t look weak. Even now. Especially now! Can’t… can’t let her think she can…

I twist and push myself to stand, glare back. “Want another bite?” I hiss with a smile that still drips with her blood. She flinches back as her old tendril curls around me in a defensive motion, flexes little teeth in and out.

A beat, then another, and she’s gone between one blink and the next. I glance about, using my Amwella sight to make sure she’s not just slipped into a corner.

“Dreamer’s Tits.” I hiss after I’m sure she’s truly gone, slumping back against the crate behind me. My Amwella wriggles and melts and continues to merge this new thing into itself. Sort of stitching and reweaving to secure the new…

New… tendril? Limb? Um… I glare down at the thing as it wriggles and twists about. I can direct and control it, but… doing so makes my head hurt and my tummy roil a bit as a sudden weird awareness of muscles that aren't muscles seep into my mind. It also seems to have its own odd type of…

I don’t know, it's a version of my Amwella senses. Just… like… if I was blind and beneath the water. More based on pressure and movement.

But even more unnerving is when I pull back my thoughts, it keeps moving about! The tendril doesn’t slurp into my Amwella like I’d seen Twital do, and honestly… I’m okay with that. But… When I stop controlling it directly it winds and weaves about my soul and body. Can even reach out about five or… yeah that’s like eight feet of reach when it thins itself out and stretches. All the while those not very little teeth and talons that coat it slip in and out of its skin in rippling anticipation of… something. More violence? More feeding?

I take a deep breath. Work to calm my heart and mind. “It’s Fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.” I hum, “Fine fine fine fine. This. Is. Fine! I am safe now.”

The words help make the dream match them, and soon I am nearly barreled over by a wave of exhaustion. I… my head and back begin to throb. Twital slammed me into the wall a bunch, and my impact with the crate wasn’t soft. I worry about twisting too much as I hobble from the little room.

I think of Thendra's commands. Some of her earliest words. How… How she’d rather me speak out regardless of a command than to sing without her permission. And I wonder if that applies to now? If I returned to her chambers will she be angry? Hurt me or send me away to fend for myself…

I shake my head. Better to… to ask. I don't even need to enter to get permission to sing!

But as I hobble along, weird new limb swirling and twisting all about in an odd dance of… something, a fear rolls through me. What will she think of this? A new little tooth is one thing, but… an entire tendril? One of the biggest I’ve seen? And… honestly, longer than any of her’s!!!

My back and head throb again, so I continue. Eventually finding myself standing outside Thendra’s chambers. It’s dark, and I can see the mound of her beneath the quilts from here. Deep jade tendrils weave and flit about like some kind of deep sea plant moving to calm waters.

I hesitate, What if she hates this?

I look down at the ugly thing as it seems to… to curl in on itself. Seems to quiver and writhe in… huh. Worry? It’s a part of me and the fear bleeds into it like a twitch. The tendril isn’t like… another person inside my soul. Isn’t conscious and screaming at me to keep it safe. No. It's… like… an extension. Still weaving and connecting itself to my Amwella.

Deep breath.

“Thendra.” I whisper.

No movement.

Another deep breath.

“Thendra!” I project a little louder.

A pause, then she shifts, makes a slightly annoyed growling noise. Nothing I haven't heard before.

“May I sing?”

Another shift. “In the morning, Little Fae.” She murmurs.

I huff. Annoyed as my head and back continue to hurt. New tendril curls and writhes in patterns that mimic my mood.

“No. Thendra, Now.” I hiss, pain and weariness and annoyance at her casting me into this pain and mess bubbling up. “Let me Sing.”

I see her breath pause, Amwella jerks in sudden annoyance. A low rumbling growl begins to emit from her. But I stand my ground. Talons clawing into the archway’s edge for support, both emotional and physical.

“It’s either that or I… I might try something stupid.” I add with much less of a hiss. More murmur of placation.

She rises, but doesn’t leave the bed as her eyes fall upon me. Only takes a few seconds to peer at my slightly hunched form. Then her Jade eyes glimmer, and–

There is a long pause, and I can’t help but look away under the weight of those eyes.

“Come.” She purrs.

I flinch. Not… not expecting her to… but… but what if she’s going to tear it off!?!

But I don’t let my panic stop me from taking those first careful steps. Slowly slowly moving across the room to pause just at the foot of the bed. My new limb twitches and curls about in a weird mix of defensive and worried motions.

“What happened?” She purrs, not… that angry. But… wary and… something else I can’t recognise in the dark.

“You… you said to bite back.” I whisper. “You didn’t say how hard.”

She makes a contemplative noise almost… almost a huff of laughter. Then she moves forward to hold out a single hand. An offer.

I sigh in a bit of relief, take her huge hand, and let her help me crawl atop the bed. She doesn’t release me though, just pulls and turns me to sit in her lap with my back to her. My Amwella sight makes me aware of how her own soul carefully curls forward and around me, a few of her own limbs twist and flit around my still cautious tendril.

“You… grew this?” She eventually purrs, a hand moves to touch my hair and–

“No I– Ow!” I hiss, jerk away as her fingers touch still fresh bruises.

There is a long pause, her fingers suddenly move carefully down my neck and back. Just… only almost touching the sensitive spots.

I mumble, “May I sing, please?”

She purrs thoughtfully, then commands. “Tell me of your night, first.”

I huff, annoyance bubbling up again as her fingers continue to move over my wounded back. “Your Reaver, Twital. She… Last night I broke a tooth from her soul after she…” I flinch, move past it. “She… Well when she came back I used it to slice her weird soul tendril off.”

A long pause. “How did you merge this Naranggas with your own Amwella?” a cold shudder runs through me as one of her tendrils just barely touches my own.

Naranggas? Wh... What's...? I... I just always saw them as wiggly soul tails...

“I don’t know!” I twitch, the new limb wriggles in agitation. “It… I only realized it was attached after everything was over.”

A long pause. Three of her limbs curl around mine. In worry and reflex the little teeth and sharp edges spring out graze over the skin of one of Thendra’s three. I jerk as she purrs a warning.

“Sorry, I’m… I’m still trying to get used to it.” I wince, “And… and I’m still in pain. Twital slammed me against the wall like… four times. And that was before she threw me across the room.”

Thendra just… thrums in thought. Still poking and prodding at my new limb. My soul can’t help but go wriggly and melty under the cold of her touch, working to avoid her. It takes me a few minutes to realize that she’s remained quiet and is… I’m not sure. With my back to her I can’t see her face to read her. But it seems like she’s curious about…

“You’re… You’re not going to…” I finally whisper. “Please don’t tear it off.”

She thrums, and when I recognise the amusement in the sound I sag in relief.

“No, My Lyra.” She purrs. “Now, sing what healing you need.”

I pour myself into the harmony, end up curling around my new soulfire limb when the final notes drain from my lips and Thendra commands me to end the song. The euphoria that floods me from the lack of pain is already draining me, making me begin to droop and sag and consider the soft bed beneath me. Still warm from Thendra’s body and–

Thendra nudges me, “Go.”

I hiss at her. Sudden tired fury and anger and such pain that she’s sending me away again. Her replying growl isn’t… well it’s not kind, but it does hold some amusement.

“Find a place more comfortable than the floor, little Fae. Rest. None will bother you again this night.”