Content warning/Spoiler:

Violence. Blood. feeling of being forcibly Detransitioned.

I weave a curse through my song, twist a brand of ugly design on my Beloved Siblings’... foot? Yeah this feels like a foot. Bottom of the foot. Easily hidden. I use human words, not Fae ones. No maggots, no rot, don’t think about the rot maggots!

You will obey all of my(Lyra’s) commands.

Then it’s done. Simple and horrible and… wonderfully perfect. I crawl up and around Thendra and Usete’s bodies to whisper in their ear.

“Be still, Beloved sibling. Only sing quiet songs to heal your body.” A weird… tingle rolls down my spine as I speak my first command. Feel… feel a difference in pitch and a little bit of my Amwella tints the words.

They jerk and flail, and I can’t stop a single sob as I watch the curse bite them.

“You’re cursed,” Thendra purrs, “Obey my Lyra’s command and the sting’s ends.”

They settle, then a quiet humming tune of healing emits from the soul and mouth. Still muffled by the dark. Then Thendra lays them on the ground, and we’re moving again.

Ganzorig’s Amwella flares and pulses with a song that seems to roil in the dark. A whirling harmony of warning and violence. There’s also… heat. Overwhelming and terrible as it rolls from the corner he’s been backed into. As Thendra passes close I… I’m sure he’s singing fire into the space between us.

Then there is a trembling, and I can hear the song through the vibrations… Feel the pulsing horrible things this old Fae means to drag down upon all within this room.

Burn! Then let the mountain fall and bury your charred bones.

I jerk back at the fury of the harmony.

“Can your songs protect from this?” Thendra purrs.

I… I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. His roiling song will kill everyone here if I don’t!

“Yes.” I force into my tune, confident as possible. “But just me.”

Then I’m on the floor, pleading with the air to cool and the fire to not burn me. But… it doesn’t listen. Ganzorig’s song is too overbearing, and… and I’m almost sure he’s woven a counter melody into his workings to subvert such a trick.

I don’t stop running, just reweave my melody. I… I have a song that should be able to protect me.

Eye’s bleeding, I pour my horrid song of Returning Torments into the world. Feel the maybe maggots perk up at the possibility of–

The fire closes in, begins to char skin and hair and eyes. Screaming as it begins to boil and cleanse rot and decay from the dream. Charing and–

Spite eats the flames, collects the charring harmony and turns it into a reverberation of–

Thrumming quakes that shake the mountain come next, a rolling avalanche of overwhelming weight to crush all beneath–

Spite consumes the force, mixes it with the searing torment of the flame.

And in the final moment before I collide with Ganzorig, my song overlaps with his soul. Overwhelming him with all the pain he’d woven into the Dream, then releases it.

There is a crack, then an explosion of pain and flame that reverses my momentum as something hard and solid slams into my chest. Cracks ribs and cuts off my song.

I slump to the floor in the sudden silence, writhe and twist as the curse stings and bites.

C… Can’t breathe… Can’t… Lungs and ribs broken and–

Reavers close in around us, but… but the Amwella standing over me coughs, then redoubles his songs. Flame and force tear through the air and drive them back.

Need to breathe! Need… need air to sing and stop the curse!

Through the suffocating pain and curses sting I feel a hand rest on my shoulder, and… and… and…

The song shifts, turns… strange. Odd and… and…

Ganzorig begins to mix a song of unweaving into his tune, and I feel my skin and bone of shoulder begin to… to shift. To melt and crack and… and…

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Fae mercy flares before my eyes. Clear as the mid-day sun. A nature that abhors killing, that would… would twist my body back into old wretched shapes rather than just ending me.

Whip-Snap goes my tails, furious unspeakable rage made soulfire. They rake at his Amwella. Curl about his form to squeeze and tear to MAKE HIM STOP!

But… his age is made clear to me then. Centuries of song and life and wondrous love have made his soul a thing of mountains. Solid as rock and twice as unbreakable. I could spend hours tearing at his core and leave only gashes.

That… and his harmony of rock and flame hasn’t even lessened. If anything it burns hotter! Hits harder! Ganzorig is a master of Fae song, and weaves multiple melodies together into a perfect symphony with such horrible ease.

L… Let.

Shoulder bends, old rotten shape returning. Curse of a wrong body I burned and buried reforming beneath his touch. A roar, more Amwella prowls at the edge of Ganzorig’s protective shell. Furniture and darkness and even flesh melt within seconds as they are struck with the force of the mountains and scorched with the fury of the sun.

ME.

The unweaving pushes deeper, begins to roll over my flesh, bend bone and blood and soul to–

SING!

I choke and cough, inhale deeply, and wail such hatred for this wretched dream into Ganzorig. He tries to jerk back, and his song remains strong even with the sudden assault. I catch his wrist, then a twitch of a talon that is not mine, and I am carving into Ganzorig’s hand.

No blood bubbles up. Hard stone scales block the talon’s bite. It’s…. Too hard?

A hand locks around my throat, cuts off my song, then lifts me, continues the unmaking. I kick and gag and claw with everything I am.

Need the maggots!!!

His song touches my mind now… begins to… to reave at my memories. Burying song magic beneath a wave of heavy stone. Works to ensure I can’t warp my form back with a wondrous Fae song after his cruel workings are finished.

I hiss and wriggle fingers beneath his thick stone hand, get just enough space to sing a curse of–

Spread the Rot. Stir the dream!!!

A blighted talon jerks out, finds a face of stone and… something soft and wet and… pops it with a thumb. Sticky and warm blood explodes from the wound. Ganzorig grunts, takes my wrist and pulls it free of his eye, but… it’s too late.

You will obey all my(Lyra’s) commands.

Rot maggots burst within his soul. Writhing beautiful little horrors bound to my will and command.

“Let me go.” I wheeze into the song.

He squeezes tighter, and the maggots feast. Ganzorig doesn’t listen, but the sudden pain deep within his soul causes his grip to loosen. Enough so I can wriggle free and drop to the floor in a coughing choking slump.

Something… something is wrong! Legs and arms and… and EVERYTHING FEELS WRONG!

“End your songs!” I hiss into the melody.

Hands shaking, I… I run hands over my body and… and… It’s all wrong!!! Bones and flesh and shapes all wrong!!! I scream agony and fury and call up my true shape. Begin to… to rip and tear and bite and froth to get all these horrible things off me!!!

Ganzorig grunts and growls, stumbles back. But I barely even notice as his song begins to fade and die. I’m too busy remaking myself.

The darkness muffles my work, but doesn’t contain it as I relive the agony of Fae flesh-shaping.

“Wh– What have you laid in me?” Ganzorig growls. “What… what Rot and Ruin is this–”

Just as quick as the darkness consumed us, it vomits us back into a well lit room.

I squeeze my eyes shut, terrified of what Ganzorig has done to my form. I keep singing. Keep ripping and tearing and wailing at my body to please go back. But… his unmaking touched my mind. And… and I have to push the rocks off the memories before I can–

“Thendra don’t!!!” A voice shouts.

There is a heavy thump as I feel my Dark Goddess' form pass over me with a speed I can barely follow, a… a rough coughing sound like rocks grinding against each other.

“He will not weave any more magic in my manor.” My dark goddess growls. “If he doesn’t stop resisting, I will end him before the curse can consume him.”

“Dreamer’s Tits!” Awnya shouts from beside me. “Dad, just… STOP!!! Stop fighting! You–”

This goes on for a while, but I ignore most of it. Just… just bury talons into the floor as I wail and sob and claw with song at the flesh that’s been twisted into old horrible shapes. Working feverishly to free the old melodies that will let me fix myself.

“Lyra? Hey hey!” Awnya kneels before me. “I need you to hold up for a second. Tell Usete to stop their healing song. They’re–”

I just shake my head, try to curl in on myself even more. Need to finish. I’m… I’m not a real person unless I fix me!

“THENDRA!” Awnya shouts, “Get your Reaver’s off Usete! Don–”

“They have earned a feast, Fae.” Thendra purrs, “They will not kill, only feed to restore their own–”

A whirl of motion. A tense pause only punctuated by my furious song.

“I won’t ask again, big girl.” Awnya whispers, so softly I barely notice.

“You won’t like where this path leads.” Thendra purrs with such… anticipation. “Are you sure you want to walk it?”

No. No no no. Can’t… can’t lose either of them to–

“STOP!” I bite the command through song and agony to everyone in the room. A healing melody so soft I only notice it when its whistling ends chokes to a halt.

I find the buried song of home within the ending of that tune. Fuse it into my workings.

A pause, a shuffle, then warm hands touch my shoulders. “Lyra? Hey, did… Did something happen to your eyes?”

I shake my head. Keep singing. Don’t… I don't want to speak the things I’m trying to fix into my workings.

“The darkness is gone. You can open them.” She touches my face. I curl around myself tighter and shake again.

“What’s wrong? You seem okay.” She murmurs, “Just some cuts and scratches, soul is a bit mangled. But… why sing this?”

I jerk away. I’m all wrong. My mind and body are… he ruined me! I have to fix it!

A growl, then a thump. Wheezing hard breaths as I feel Thendra’s soul loom over me.

“Lyra, stop.” Comes the command of nightmares.

I choke and gag to stop my song on reflex.

“N– no!” I whisper. “P- Please. Thendra. Let me sing! I need to fix this!”

A pause.

“Later. Tell me of your commands and their–”

“NO!” I scream, keep my eyes closed. “Now, Thendra. I–”

A hand grips my chin and neck, familiar and… and… causes a war of things within me. Images of sex mingled with… with what this really means. She uses this to force her slaves to pay attention.

“Open your eyes.” She growls.

“Thendra, she’s not–”

I shake my head, voice a trembling human whisper. “D– don’t m– make me s– see it.”

A pause, fury tinted with confusion. “See what?”

“M– My old b– body!!! He… he was unraveling me. Turning me human and sealing my songs… M-making me a… a–”

Boy. I can’t speak the word.

“Lyra?” Awnya touches Thendra’s hand, a warning to her. “Your body is fine. Nearly perfect.”

I jerk to a stop. “B– but he… I f– felt him–”

“I can see some… off human skin and such. But, you're still you, Lyra. Still the lovely Fae Girl I found trying to riftwalk.”

I let my eyes open. Hands wander down and over and… and… she’s right. My body isn't… It still feels wrong, but I slowly realize it isn’t the physical thing of the shapes that feel off. But… deeper things. Not soul, not body things. Not quite…

“But… I felt it. Felt his unmaking.”

Thendra tilts her head, Jade eyes roll over my body and soul. “Your body became more human for a time, but… no more. You’ve already begun it’s reweaving back into your Fae form.”

My dark goddess is… Dreamer’s Tits she is so wounded. Most of one arm and chest are burned and bruised! Half her face is… is really bad. Lots of burns.

“B– but.”

“Later.” Thendra doesn’t growl, but… her patience is thinned. Eyes drift over me to–

I jerk around. See Usete leaning against a couch. All three Reaver’s crowd around.

“No!” I shout, fight to stand. “D– don’t!”

“They will survive.” Thendra’s hand catches my arm, then she says through a growl. “After your commands are laid, we will feast.”

“No.” I turn to stare up at her.

I feel her soul wrap around as Jade eyes narrow and bore down into me.

“Yeah. I’m with Lyra on this.” Awnya twirls her little blade between fingers. “No eating our family. No matter how stupid they’ve acted.”

“Your elder nearly killed us all, Fae.” Thendra doesn’t even spare her a look, just… smothers me beneath a horrid glare. I begin to wither.

“Thendra… please…” I whisper, reach out toward her hand to try and calm–

She snatches up my wrist, reclaims my jaw in her huge hand. And I feel her soul thrum with violence. So hot and mangled with hunger that I shudder. Last time it was like this was… was after the Matron’s library. When she thought I could escape our bargain.

“Hey, back off.” Awnya’s blade settles on Thendra’s wrist.

Reaver’s growl, bowstring whispers, Thendra’s soul begins to–

“They can just do what we did that week before the Matron’s venture!” I snap before I fully process the offer.