Content Warning:

Attempt at capture/enslaving, death, mention/explanations of torture/harsh training.

As I catch her, I slam the girl’s face into the sandstone wall, hissing and annoyed. Then, as her breath leaves in a huffing gasp, I grip the cluster of horns jutting from the back of her spine and head.

“Dreamer’s Tits, Of all days–” I snarl as I jerk her around and drag her to the ground.

As dust poofs and swirls around, I see the little pouch of leather plop into the floor a foot or so near her right hand. With a whisper of relief I pin a knee into the base of her spine and snatch it up. Then I lean down and hiss in her ear, “Stay in the dirt until I’m gone, little mouse.”

I drop her head, rise, brush off the dust from my comfy dark maroon leather tunic, and turn to–

Two weird robed… things block the exit. Hunched lower than me and necks long they look like… reptiles? Pale greenish white scales with two big eyes peek out of their hoods as they regard me. They’d be kinda cute if not for the nasty twisting knives in their hands.

But… Nope. Don’t want to deal with that nonsense. Probably wandering in their territory, just need to sprint the other way to avoid them. They won’t chase once I cut back into the main roads.

Bulderii’s done a decent job helping me fit a map of the winding nooks and streets of Theradas into my head. Explaining how the Great powers work and when the little squabbling bands of odd groups should be ignored, fled from, or engaged. This was one of the ‘run away’ kind. Apparently they love poisons. And I hated singing venom out of my veins!

I turn to step past the girl. But, she’s moved. And a man, red skin like her with his own head of tangled horns and piercing red eyes, saunters into the alley. He’s wearing a disheveled, but slightly armored, suit. My eyes dart to the gnarled seven fingers of his left hand as they toy at the hilt of a little sword still belted to his hip.

I jerk to a pause as his ugly yellow eyes lock on mine. “Hello there.” He says with all the joy of a snake about to snatch up a bird that’s fallen from her nest. The girl is no longer whimpering and on the ground, but instead crouches glaring in my direction from his side.

“Really?” I jangle the pouch. “It’s… this isn’t even that much!”

There’s a hiss, and I glance back to see… oh… Dreamer’s Tits! Very not cute! The weird snake things’ long necks have separated nearly down to their shoulders to reveal rows and rows of dripping and drooling teeth.

I grind my teeth, sigh, and turn back to the other two. Toss the pouch of coins between us.

The girl’s eyes flit to the little thing for a second, but then come back up to regard me. The man’s eyes don’t even leave mine. “Not here for your coin, Fae.”

Oh… wonderful.

He pulls something out from his back pocket, a rusty looking belt shaped… thing. I don’t recognise it. But… I just almost… almost just make out a little twisting scream coming from it.

He twirls it around between his fingers. “You will fetch a much much higher price.”

Dreamer’s Tits… why did I already throw the bag of coins?

Amwella sight flickers, and I work out a few options. So the two snake souls are tiny little things, sharp bits but… nothing even as scary as my first. But as for the two red ones… yeah I don’t like that. They’re small, but have a sort of weird jittering nature to them. No sharp bits but plenty of warning signs to signify a person with some kind of weird magic.

“So how about we make this as painless as possible?” He muses as his eyes glimmer.

I could… well…

I look to my own shrouded core. It’s… Dreamer’s Tit’s they’ll be so mad if I unfurl even one of my Naranggas! Thendra and I had spent hours, wrapping and curling and knotting my tails to a tight nit ball that hides my Amwella’s twistings from most and keeps them well hidden and unknown.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Just so you know, The Matron of the Watchers is very dead. So… no bounty for you to collect there.” I try, hoping that’s who they think they're working for. “And, Thendra will gut your souls if you push this.”

“If we were working for a dead woman that would be a problem.” He sighs, flipping the belt about a few more times. “But we’re not. So how about you just come with us and we can ensure your pretty little soul will–”

I take a few bouncing steps back, and am running at the two red horned people before he can finish. He flinches, The girl has a dagger I didn’t even see and is preparing for me to–

Left foot to the wall, jump, right foot, jump, and on and on until I need my talons to carve into the wall to hold me up. Then I leap off the bigger wall onto the shorter of the two sandstone hovel’s roof without looking back. My agility from the forest and Bulderii’s training allowing me to scale the walls to the rooftops with quick ease.

‘Even without your new sense, the movements of prey and predator should be plain to a Reaver.’ Bulderii explained between bouts of the little game she’d loved forcing me to endure. ‘The layout of the street or building shouldn’t matter, the environment is just noise. Move and act in reaction to how you would in the other position.’

And then the chase would start. Sometimes I was the one hunting, other times she would be coming for me. My tails weren’t to be used, and holding them still distracted me for the first few dozen hunts. Amwella sight was… fine, but ultimately very not useful when a seven foot tall Reaver was coming at my tiny frame. I’d shaken my habit of triggering it during a chase unless one or both of us were allowed to use our tails and tendrils.

If Bulderii won, she got to tackle me to the ground and scratch at my soulfire. If I won… Well, I got to avoid that. And over the weeks Bulderii drug out ferocious instincts from the pit of my soul. Through training and my own late night songs I twisted and altered my form to be better at such things. I kept my size, but twisted thicker muscles and more flexibility and durability to my frame.

I was still not a match for a Reaver if they got their hands around me, so I spent much of my energy focusing on speed and quickness and following Bulderii’s advice. Predict my movements before I get so close.

It’s probably the only thing that saved me in the next moment. A whisper of magic, the little screams of that weird thing the red man was holding, and I’m twisting back. H– how is he already up here with me!?!

“Hold sti–” He’s nearly laughing as he’s shoving that weird belt thing toward my neck. It… it’s suddenly coiling and snapping at my flesh.

I twirl, letting the maimed talon swipe at his wrist as the rest of me drops and rolls away.

Twitch Twitch. And the maggots are singing, Birth the rot! It nearly screams as blood coats its fingertips and the man pulls back. But I only hiss a warning and hop back a few steps.

“Dreadweave’s Bane!” He pulls back his wrist, shakes at where the talon’s have left a trio of red and bubbling cuts. “You’re a quick one!”

But I’m already running. All speed to the edge of the rooftop, jump, roll to keep my speed, keep running. But… where to?

Instincts flair again, and I duck to the side as the Dreamer Blighted thing whips that weird belt toward my neck again as he steps from a little slip of green smoke. A Riftwalk!?! So quick after the last!?!

This happens thrice more, Dodging him is simple. He’s not fast and is relying too much on those riftwalking tricks. But… his face is never showing any sign of weariness or even more than a mild annoyance. Big broken toothed grins are all he flashes me as the chase continues. He’s enjoying this hunt.

I growl at the Dreamer Blighted annoyance of it. Lost my coin, can’t just whip out my Naranggas and reave his soul away… And… How far is he willing to chase? I don’t know what that weird thing he keeps trying to stick on me is, but its hissing song is a thing I’ll not let touch my flesh!!!

Then I run out of rooftop, and have to jerk to a stop as I glare down at the open ravine into oblivion. And then he pounces.

Talons out and–

But he leads with that little sword this time, and I have to pull back. Foot catches on the rim, and both arms jerk to try and balance me back to standing. Another arm flashes out, horrid belt coiling and ready to strike at my neck and flesh. Only one talon can stop it, but then that’ll leave his sword arm open to–

Instincts win out. Not the subtle annoyed things I’ve numbed and killed when the big Reaver grinds me into the dirt and growls before she scratches a little chunk of me away. Real predators' instinct. The things Bulderii taught me by throwing venomous desert creatures into our hunts. Horrid quick things that know nothing of training or restraint. Things I had to be willing to… to strike out and kill when they appeared suddenly and with death on their teeth and claws.

Crack Whip-Snap. A single Naranggas tail twists and rips free of the mangled mess tied around my soul. I catch his wrist with one talon, and Reave his soul clear with a single tail.

To his credit, as the cold ache of death washes through him, he does not go limp and just die. Sword flashes, drags a soft kiss up my tunic and across my chin that almost gouges my eye free.

But… I don’t even hiss as my face begins to drip with blood. I’m too enraptured by the feeding euphoria of a developed soul. Something I haven’t felt since… since…

Thoughts are a muddle as the little weird morsel is shoved between the cracks left by the tail that now dances free of my soul. Overwhelming me with shuddering warmth that I’ve no idea how to ignore.

Sooner than before my mind is flooding with horrible memories. Snarling Reavers, dying lovers, and lost family.

“Oh… I… But I can’t shift.” He stammers, then pauses, face so full with confusion. “How did you take that from me?”

Eyes are beginning to glaze over as his body babbles its soulless words. Then there is another pop, and hiss of green smoke as the girl appears onto the roof a few feet behind him. Her eyes dart between us as he drops the horrible belt thing at our feet. I only keep his wrist in my talon long enough to ensure I’m not going to fall off the edge, but when I do release it he immediately begins stumbling back.

“Sweet sister.” He murmurs as he falls to kneel beside her. “I… can you–”

But the flooding of pain of memory is too much, and his Amwella was so small and soft. Like eating smoke. I Need to… need to–

Whip-Snap, and another warmth is shoved into my soul.

She yelps, both in the cold ache of the Reaving, but also in some dead emotion as her brother dies. I barely hear her, struggle to care as I… I…

Warmth fades even faster with her little soul digested. Memories begin to claw up. Roiling mucky calls to vomit and wail at memories of death and flesh tasting. Of blood filling my mouth as I come so close to consuming the vibrant soul of warmth as she begs me to stop. Of… of the curses, and those I’ve torn from the dream.

This… this makes five. But… Fae aren't supposed to kill? Am… Am I even Fae? W– Was I ever?

By the time I’m hurting enough to wonder at my surroundings, the two are dead. The girl lays over his chest with tears still fresh on her cheeks. Dead eyes angry and accusing.

No. Deep breaths, and I focus on words and promises.

‘Twitch Twitch’ go the three remaining fingers of the maimed talon. I almost bite it off, but… a little reason breaks through and pokes at my mind. Get your coin, go to the Soul drinker’s house of flesh, find Thendra.