HA! So... Only one chapter left before the END of Arc one of LoTDD!!! Are you excited? Arc two is already written/edited/ready to go right away! And I CANNOT wait to share it with you all!!!

BTW, Arc 1 title is 'To Break a Fae'. And I will post Arc 2's name at the start of it!

Content Warning:

Trauma and thinking about past Sexual assault. then violence. then death.

Everyone pauses. Awnya in confusion. The Reavers in surprise. Even Thendra’s eyes seem to widen a little.

“Huh?” Awnya flinches at the sudden changes she can’t understand. “What did–”

Big hands release me… Jade eyes seem to glimmer with… with something… I can’t. Don’t want to–

“It’s hard to explain.” I turn and head toward Usete to hide my lie from Awnya.

Thendra purrs in contemplation.

“It'll end better for everyone here.” I hiss.

Crack Whip-Snap. And the Reavers back off. Letting me kneel down next to my Beloved Sibling.

“Lyra–” They wheeze.

I lay my good talon on their lips. “Be quiet.”

Their mouth clamps shut. I take a deep breath, feel my face fall into sadness as I move to sit, take up one of their hands. Squeeze it.

“You’ll never come near me willingly again. You’ll not speak to anyone of me, nor attempt to communicate or draw others to myself or Thendra. You will not try to remove or tell anyone about this curse.” I murmur. “And… I don’t know if my curse can read your thoughts… but… I think it would be best if you really did Consider me dead and gone from the dream, Beloved Sibling.”

They writhe, and I can’t help but sob as I see them fight. Realizing my curse can probably read emotions as good as Awnya's sensing song. I rise, legs a wobbly mess. Turn to walk past Thendra, and over to Awnya and Ganzorig.

He… he’s alive, but only just regaining consciousness. His eye is… oh Dreamer’s tits the pupil is an ugly mess of half healed muck marred with a blood brand that curls around the entire thing. I think Thendra choked him out, or hit him in the head… or something. His chest is a mess of cracked stoneskin and a bit of blood from where my song of spite hit him. I repeat the same commands, but also add that he will keep the marred eye covered and closed when possible.

“Awnya can you… can you take them somewhere safe?” I whisper as I finish the commands. “Stick around for a few days and make sure… make sure my commands hold? And they heal up okay?”

She sighs, brushes some hair out of Ganzorig’s rolling eyes. All while humming a little tune to keep him drowsy and confused and healing. “Yeah, yeah. I can do that.”

“But I need the big cunt to swear not to do whatever it is she keeps doing. Let you rest and heal and–” She turns a serious look to me.

I lay a good talon on her lips, turn to Thendra. I try to… to communicate the deception I’m trying to weave here. I need her help to sell it to Awnya.

If she finds out what I’m offering to save these two from your Reavers she’ll never leave.

Thendra thrums in consideration, then nods. “I will make sure Lyra gets ample rest.”

“No more excursions or stupid late night ambushes or–”

Thendra purrs out a laugh, “No. I will keep her safe from everything she wishes to avoid.”

It… I can feel her worry, but Awnya agrees. And… and there was still the tragedy of the dead Fae that Bulderii killed. Head pulverized by one of her huge arrows. I have to weave a few more commands to force Usete and Ganzorig to not spread word of their end. Other than it being a tragic accident during an excursion into the dangerous Rorliras tunnels.

I change the commands on Usete and Ganzorig so they can sing and talk and move about just as the Rift Awnya took them through closes. Both their eyes filled with… with such an empty… a formless anger and sadness or…

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Then I’m going back to enter the manor. I pull the doors closed, and turn to see Thendra and her Reavers waiting.

I sigh. Numb and empty of… of everything. It’s probably the only reason I’m not panicking as I begin to come to grips with what I said.

How… How I offered to… to…

I look down at myself. At… at the little human patches of skin wrapped in Fae shaped flesh. Dreamer’s Tits… this… my Fae flesh was better at dealing with pain and damage. Was also super sensitive to… well… sex things. I’m not sure how much of that got messed up.

“Just… let me heal a bit before...” I murmur. “I’m not sure how easily you’ll get my Amwella if I don’t.”

But… Why didn’t Ganzorig’s song change me back to… to what my human form was? I never really changed much of my human body to a girl. Just… focused on the perfect female Fae shape I wanted and ripped off the human parts as I grew the new ones. I burned and buried those old things piece by piece.

The thoughts distract me from the silence. On how Thendra gives me no commands to sing.

I glance up. Find everyone just… watching. Waiting. I tremble, look away.

“Come to my chambers when you’ve finished.” Thendra commands me, then heads up the stairs. Bulderii follows after a brief pause.

The three remaining Reavers wait, glowing eyes flitting between my soul and… and my whirling tails as they weave a pattern of anxious worry about me.

“Right. Okay. Great.” I hiss, “Dreamer’s Tits, let’s… let’s at least find a bed.”

They don’t move, and… I guess I have to lead the way. I wander through the halls and feel the trio following about fifteen feet back. I… I know I’m stalling. These three have a room they share just down the hall from Thendra. And… honestly I’m not sure how able I’ll be to hobble through these hallways after…

After…

I freeze. Breath quickens. Panic bubbles up and strangles thoughts. Memories of feeding and pain and how empty I felt. Of… of how Twital raped me and left me a puddle all while she laughed at my helplessness.

Such a simple word, but it makes my entire body nearly collapse at the deep horror and shame it brings. Of… of how I hate myself for being so weak then. Even… almost as much as I hate the dead woman who hurt me.

The Reavers don’t make a sound. Don’t purr or growl or threaten me. Just… wait.

“Dreamer’s Tits.” I hiss, glance through the nearest doorway. See that it… it contains a pretty big bed. One big enough to fit a few Reavers and a little Fae.

“For Usete.” I whisper to myself. “F… For Awnya. That’s why I’m doing this. So… so she doesn’t have to deal with knowing someone she cares for has to… to…”

Let a trio of Reavers ravage them for soulfire.

Crack Whip-Snap.

I turn, head into the room, and crawl up onto the bed. By the time my back is against the baseboard the Reavers have only just decided to come to the doorway. Eyes locked on my whirling tail. Faces clearly filling with… with… worry? Even fear.

I quirk my head at them, gather up and solidify myself.

I hate them. I want to hurt them like she hurt me.

Snap-Crack

Memories of Thendra’s conversation with Awnya slowly return to me like oozing tree sap. Of… how she alluded that she’d known it would happen. Almost… almost…

But why? Why send her after me?

One of the Reavers finally speaks. “You–”

Crack.

Her tail is… well not small, but… yeah small compared to any of my three. I don’t know her name. Don’t care. She was the Dreamer Blighted Cunt who slammed my head into a wall. Left me a pile of sobs after barely even trying to get a clean bite back when she fed on me all those weeks ago. Just ripped as everything bubbled up and–

I don’t mean to hiss. It just… comes out. But she cuts off. Eyes still locked on my tails.

What? They… they seem…

“Come here.” I murmur in their horridly beautiful tongue. I don’t know why I said that. But… but they move instantly. As if…

They pause at the edge of the bed. Glance back up. A… a question?

Huh. I… Waiting for me to let any of them come closer.

“On the bed.” I hiss. Cold terrible hatred and malice and… and cruelty in my words.

They move without hesitation. Then just… sit in front of me. Eyes so wary of my whirling tails as they dance about. Almost touch and cut and–

I let one nick the soul of the largest. She flinches, growls in pain. But… doesn’t move or attack.

Something clicks. A realization. Like a pack of jungle cats or wolves. Thendra on top. Bulderii beneath her, and… and… me at the bottom. At least… before tonight. Before I killed one of them and scared off the rest.

But…. but that would mean…

“What am I?” I hiss.

The woman pauses.

“Fae.” She replies.

“No. To Thendra. To you. What am I?”

I wait for the word. Wait for her to crush this little hope and call me a pillow–

“Reaver.”

The word stops my heart. Brings… brings the past days into perspective. My mind and soul curl and twist and… and… and… roil into such a storm of self-hatred and fury and–

Not a slave.

An eternity of questions roll through me, and as my tendrils wrap around this Dreamer Blighted woman, I almost force her to answer them. But… no. Those are for Thendra. For later. For after.

I push myself to my knees, slowly move toward her. Get close, muscles still a bundle of fear that this is just… a trap. A lure to hurt me.

But… no. The fear in those eyes is real.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” I do my best to mimic Thendra’s purr. It’s… it doesn’t carry her rolling deep thrum, but the edge the soft words carry seem to make the Reaver flinch.

Eyes flit to mine.

“No touching me unless I tell you where and how.” I’m at her now, tails whirling and curling and getting so close to cutting her again. “And you're going to be as gentle as you can.”

She gives me a slow nod.

Dreamer’s Tits. She… she’s so fucking scared right now. Can barely keep her eyes off my tails and talons and… and…

“Okay.” I huff, trying to calm my mind. Slow down the flood of euphoria as I realize just how much control I have here. How… how do I even…

They watch me, seem to relax a bit as my Naranggas slow.

Eyes drift to my core, hunger bubbles within them, and it’s the flashes in their eyes that make my first tail slowly wind around a soul. Images and memories of horrid feedings and helpless sobbing. Of giving my everything to these Dreamer Blighted Cunts, only to have them treat me like…

They stiffen again, shift. Arms and legs begin to move and–

But it’s as Thendra told me. This isn’t a contest of the flesh.

It never was.

A pair of Reaver souls, already wounded and damaged from two conflicts, rip free before their bodies can react. One slumps immediately, the other manages to get to the door before her death becomes plain.

This is barely a feeding. I don’t care to slurp more than a weeping of soulfire into my core from these blighted things. End up just… tossing their broken and wretched souls to fade and rot in the corners of this room.

The third is able to hold one Naranggas at bay while she leaps at me. Big hands clasping at my arm and face. But now my two other tails are back and around her soul. Ripping the thing free as I feel my elbow crack and jaw begin to ache from her terrible strength.

An explosion of pain and pleasure hits as her soul is torn in two above and a wondrous rain of weeping soulflame drowns me. But she’s refusing to die, eyes alight with the rage and fear of a woman who knows she is dead.

Darkness gathers around my vision, and I hardly notice my body breaking beneath her fury while my soul baths in her sundered Amwella.

Then… oblivion. For a time.

As feeding euphoria ends, I find myself fighting to breathe as a giant Reaver corpse crushes my little Fae form. It takes me a few minutes to wriggle free of her and look out at my work.

All dead. The… the last of Thendra’s Reavers besides Bulderii…

And me.