CW:

Soul curse things. self-harm of fingernails stabbing palm and clawing at face

And then I’m walking alone down the spiraling pathway that leads to the beaches below.

I hated her answer, hated how… how she would do this.

Ganzorig didn’t even look back to me as I spoke the commands. He was sitting cross legged in the back garden just… staring out over the ocean. I’d made the mistake of looking at his soul and… oh Dreamer’s Tits. It was like looking at some great tree that was being hollowed out by parasitic bugs. Cracked and horrible and…

I shake my head. Can’t… Can’t think about that. Need to find Usete and… and…

After seeing her father’s soul, I understand why she did what she did. Why everything was just… too overwhelming for her to deal with alone. How even with my promise that I would talk to Thendra. Beg her to let me travel here, offer up anything I could to make her agree to this, Awnya had still gotten another Fae involved.

Showed another how I had hurt my Beloved Sibling.

I spot them sitting together on the beach. My sibling sits much like the elder Fae above. Soul wrent with countless little holes and wounds. And behind them, gently brushing hair and humming a song of comfort and calm is…

Our mother.

I want to run. Want to hide and scream and shout such bitter things. But… I promised. And before they know I’m there, I’m speaking words to ensure no more harm comes to Usete.

“You may ignore all my previous commands, Beloved Sibling.”

They twitch at my words while my mother turns, song dead on her lips. I look down and away, unwilling to let my gaze meet either of theirs. Stand silent and… and so full of pain and shame. Naranggas seem to… to lean away from them as the ocean swells seem to form their own litany of hatred for me.

“L– Lyra?” I hear Usete stammer. “Your– you’re alive? But…”

I wince. Awnya had… had told me that the strain of my final command. The one telling them to consider me dead, was what really was breaking them. How the sting of the curse was twisting them into horrible agonies every time they considered my face or name.

“Yes. Usete.” I murmur, “I’m here to… to try and help. Make sure you can heal and… and will just… leave me alone.”

A long pause.

I can’t risk a glance, can’t… can’t bear to endure their hatred or sorrow.

“I’m… I’m sorry I’m like this.” I force out, but can’t help but smile a little at the next words. “But I’ve found a place for myself. And I’m happy there.”

“But, Lyra we can't let you–”

“No.” I hiss, cutting them off.

Crack Whip-Snap.

“Lyra.” Comes a soft whisper from my mother. I don’t look at her, so she prompts. “Little girl, would you please look at me?”

I huff, and turn.

Usete is… looks like they're about half-way to rising toward me. Frozen in such a look of pained sorrow. Our mother holds an expression of similar proportions but included in it is… well... annoyance. She pats the sand next to her.

“Come. Sit. Let’s… talk through some things.” She prompts.

I shake my head, anger rising and rising. “There’s nothing to say. Not anymore. Not… not after what they tried to do.”

“Lyra I…” Usete reaches out, pleading. “Please. Just… stop. Think about all this. Look at how much she’s hurt you. How much she’s pushing you toward a horrible path.”

My snort is a wretched and furious thing. “I’ll take Thendra at her worst over what you two wanted for me.”

“Lyra, you’re… The dream is tearing around you. Like parchment near a flame it could rend free at any moment!” They nearly shout. “And you won’t even let us try to help?”

I growl. “He tried to unmake me, Usete. Break my mind and body back into...”

Human. Boy. Wrong. I choke, the words too heavy to speak.

“That was… we didn’t expect her to be ready for us.” Their fingers are tearing an angry furrow into the sand now. “Didn’t expect you to help her like you did.”

I’m almost shouting now. “Like the humans, and the blighted slavers of Theradas, you would carve me into whatever shape you think best. The only difference is that you’ll abandon me to suffer instead of giving me the mercy of death. Twice you’ve betrayed me. I… I can’t trust you again.”

A long silent pause sits between us for a while.

“We just have to consider the wider dream.” They press, struggling to rise. “I… I made that promise thinking you would remain in the Fae Wood. Try to heal. But…if you won’t. If you keep pursuing this then–”

Another crack in my soul, as my beloved sibling clarifies that they would betray me this third and final time.

“No.” I growl. “I’ll make sure you won’t.”

A pause, horrible and punctuated by the blighted oceans.

“Little Girl.” My mother whispers, and my gaze snaps to her while my Naranggas writhe in tune with my bubbling rage. “Why not let them help–”

“Why're you here?” I snap, cutting her off.

The question startles her. She doesn’t understand how I could ask why she is here with one of her beloved children in their time of need.

Doesn’t seem to process how seeing her here, with them, could cut into me so deeply.

Twitch twitch goes the blighted talon.

Dreamer’s Tit’s… I only realize it now. How much this… how much this just… explains so much. She really was happier when I was gone and dead from her life!

I’ve only ever brought her such… pain and misery.

Been A child she was better off letting rot in the Dead Dreamer’s Wood.

“Awnya asked me to come. Said Usete needed help.” She eventually says.

“And I didn’t?” I growl.

“Lyra it’s…” She murmurs. Not rising to my anger. “It’s not the same.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“You’re right, it’s not. I’m not.” I spit. “I’m just… not as important as them. Wasn’t worth the effort.”

“That’s… That’s not what I meant. You didn’t want to tell me more.” Her face twists, but my words have found purchase. I can feel shame begin to bleed from that wound. “And Awnya only just recently has… has told me about some of the things that have happened to you in Theradas.”

“Not that…Not for…” I glare up and over at the twisting limbs above. Not willing to defend that life I’ve chosen. Not to them. I'm glad Thendra found me and took me from those woods. Just... wish I had family that tried to before she needed to.

“You’ll both enjoy the dream more if you just… believe me dead and gone from it. If anyone asks, tell them I went back to those rotting woods.”

I think I hear my mother start to say something, but her words are wind to me right now. Her pleading hurts. So Dreamer Blighted much! But… they also… also release something… a thought and realization…

Why not let the Fae help me, beloved mother? Why not let them decide my path?

“Because I don’t have to.” I answer her earlier interrupted question as my gaze falls to talons, Naranggas whirling. “I never have to let anyone touch me or change me ever again. She gave that to me. Dreamer’s Tits she… at least the pain she inflicts on me means something!”

A horrified silence.

I can’t stop what must be a twisting pained grin from cracking my everything in two. Even a little maddened giggle escapes me then as I spot my mother’s glimmering eyes locked in horror upon my soul.

I can do nothing but bask in that.

“Please… No! Lyra, Don’t…” Comes a plea from Usete.

I glower up at them again, still unable to stop this pained smile. “She knew. Dreamer’s Tits… That’s why she let me come here! She knew. She understands you all so well. Knew how you would try this again. Knew that…”

I trail off in such wonder and love and hatred for my wretched dark goddess.

Usete’s eyes go wide. Mouth opens to… I dunno. Weave a song or something else if I wasn’t ready. I see their Amwella wriggle and rise in preparation. But I think I’ve just… I've been waiting for this.

Been waiting for them to break this last promise in song and action… ignoring my will and wishing to.. to bind me!

Enslave me...

The brand on my soul from a dark god glows hot!

“You’ll never sing in my presence again.” I growl the command. “You won’t visit Theradas. You won’t inform anyone about Thendra or myself, and you will never try and take my songs or form from me again.”

Their mouth clamps shut, and they collapse into the sands. My mothers eyes narrow in pain and fury, but… but also…

“Lyra.” She nearly hisses, moving to Usete’s side again. “Stop. This isn’t the way to handle this.”

“I’m not like her.” I snap, voice cold and hard. “But… let this pain mean something to you, Fae Usete, let it remind you of your mistakes, and the things you can never take from me.”

They flinch. Not at… at the rest. But at me calling them Fae Usete. Not Beloved Sibling, not just Usete. The implications seem to crash upon their back as if I had dropped a great stone from high above.

“Beloved S–” They try to whisper.

Not in Fae song, just… just the words. No magic.

“Never call me that again.” I snap out like a viper. They choke on this last command.

“Little girl.” My mother is fully glaring now, beginning to rise and–

Crack Whip-Snap

She flinches, but doesn’t take a step back.

I wince at my Naranggas, never wanting to threaten her. The pain she caused me is… nothing like Usete, just… the betrayal of inaction… and maybe weakness.

Two things I’m starting to think Thendra has been tearing from me.

“Mother,” I whisper in the little broken Fae things I’ve managed to scrounge together since Thendra began teaching me. “I’m sorry I could never be the daughter you dreamt of.”

That causes her to jerk back as if slapped. The words ring with a sort of… hissing tune that cuts the air.

My Fae words can’t convey the next things, so I only whisper in my old stupid human tongue. “Thank you, for my body and first songs.”

Then I turn, and leave these two Fae with only agony and pain. As new and horrible to them as any weaving through this blighted dream.

* * *

When I arrive back at the seashell home, I’m surprised to see Awnya sitting beside Tretion. But… am less surprised as she turns to welcome me back to find tears and failure marring her face. Guilt and shame rekindle as I slow, her sadness like a great flame I can’t approach.

“Hey, Lyra.” She tries to smile, seeing the signs of my own shame and anger plain. “I… I guess we couldn’t expect to fix this in a day. This really is just… a huge mess!”

I sag, suddenly very tired. Heart torn and broken by the family I just lost. “I am. Aren't I? I… I’m sorry it isn't… I’m sorry.”

“Lyra, you’re not the problem here. You’re perfect.” Awnya snorts angrily, wipes her own tears. “Just… we have a really stubborn family don’t we?”

Her words… being called perfect. They echo with the same certainty as my wretched dark goddess’ when she growls them.

“I used to. But… Not anymo–”

But a sound cuts me off, a pressure of soulfire and… and a flutter of wings.

I turn slowly to watch as a woman recovers from a soft landing, then rises. She stands tall, almost Thendra’s height, but is probably much much more a ripcord of muscle as opposed to thick hard layers. But a shawl of pitch feathers tipped with emerald makes it hard to tell. Her hair is cropped short, and piercing gray eyes with little glimmers of crimson shine in the middle of a very sharp face of pale skin.

I feel Awnya jerk to her feet, move immediately to get past me as the woman’s gaze flits over us.

“Melivias!” She stammers, the first I’ve ever seen her do. “What are… What are doing here? Dad says he hasn’t wrangled you into any trouble for nearly a year.”

The woman smiles politely, bows to Awnya. “Apologies for the intrusion. My daughter seemed quite… distressed, this last time she returned from this grove. And there were whispers amidst songs of some worrisome sorts about.”

Her eyes flit back and forth between myself and Tretion as the watcher rises and steps up behind me. Awnya reaches out to take an offered big feathered hand in greeting.

“Eh… yeah Equin’s been helping me understand some things.” Awnya rubs the back of her neck and glances at me as I stiffen. Sudden worry begins to bubble. “How eh… she didn’t go honking about anything she promised to keep private did she?”

The tall Fae smiles, “Not with words, but she can be very… revealing, at times. She’s not used to the stress of our work. I’m here without her knowledge, to check in on friends.”

I feel ice go down my spine at the implications of her words. That… that Awnya told another Fae about this. About my curses.

Awnya grimaces, releases the big woman’s hand. “We’re figuring things out. Can’t say it’s going super well right now, but… I’m not sure everyone would be comfortable with another person about.”

Melivias’s brow furrows, concerned and a bit confused. “Did your father suddenly unearth old grudges?”

“No! Not at all. Just…” Awnya looks back at me, normal radiant eyes shadows with guilt. “This is kinda family stuff. Need to work it out amongst ourselves.”

Melivias looks back to Tretion and me, tilts her head. “Family? And these two are…?”

Her eyes don’t glimmer with Amwella sight, but… I can’t help but glance away as I feel her consider blackened talons, ugly sword, and nervous watcher.

“A lover and a friend, here offering support unique to their abilities.”

Black feathers seem to ruffle, similar to my Naranggas they seem to convey deeper frustrations and considerations.

“I know, I get it!” Awnya presses, “Weird stuff, but… trust me? Please? I’ll sing you into this the moment I think you might make this all better?”

Gray eyes tilt back to the red-haired Fae, consider her. “What is so bad that you’d hide this from me?”

Awnya winces, I tense. Naranggas reach out and wraps about something without my direction. I barely notice when I tug something free of Tretion's grasp with them.

“I’m not going to break promises on–”

But she catches the confusion in the older Fae’s eyes as they lock on something behind me. A sparkle, then they go wide as they understand what is holding it suspended in seemingly thin air.

“Awnya.” The older Fae says very very softly. “Who is this?”

A beat, Awnya looks back to see my mistake, winces. “A lover, she’s… been through a lot and I’m trying to help her. Please just…”

“Melivias.” Comes a gruff voice from the house. We all jerk over to see Ganzorig in the doorway, gruff and leaning against the frame. Haggard and furious.

He doesn’t speak beyond that, some command of Awnya stopping him. But… the other Fae’s eyes have already locked onto his torn and broken soul. Eyes go wide, and she’s already pushing past his daughter to get to him.

Twitch twitch. Need to curse another one.

“What happened?” She demands as she takes him in her arms.

“B–” He starts to murmur, but my rot maggots nibble a bit, and he stops.

The feathered Fae sees this and nearly hisses in anger. “Blighted!?!” Jerks to Awnya. “Why is he not with Olits and Trtoo?”

“It’s… not that simple.”

“Then make it simple. Now.” She demands, voice hard.

I can see Awnya looking at me from the corner of her eye, a sort of pleading shamed look that I can’t begin to want to understand right now. Not as I take a single step toward this new danger.

Need to curse her. Make it quick and solid. Blood and soul and gaze if possible. If she’s as old and nasty as this old goat I–

“Lyra.” Awnya whispers harshly, moves to my side and takes my arm. “Just… calm down. She’s–”

Melivias pauses, looks up to us. Eyes focus on my soul. Drink me in, seems to try and work out a sudden and annoying puzzle. “Why do I know that name? You’re Fae, but… I’ve… Those growths are…”

“Please Melivias, for me.” Awnya keeps a grip on my arm, turns to the older Fae. “This is really messy and… and we need to keep this calm.”

Her dad growls, fixes a glare on me. I glare right back. Tails grip and strangle at the sword, cut themselves a little and weep a few drops of soulfire.

Melivias narrows her eyes. “Did she have something to do with this?”

“Please,” Awnya presses, moving even more to stand between us. “I need you to…”

So distracted, we all don’t see them until they already stand at the edge of this grove. My mother and her child returned.

Melivias’s eyes flit to them, see the state of the younger’s soul. Go even wider. Then her eyes are back on me. “Yuna’s last child? That’s how I know your name. A human child needing to be–”

I’m hissing then, taking a rolling step forward as the right talon bites into my palm to bleed dripping ichor onto the otherwise perfect green of this grove. Everyone goes very still, save Awnya.

She turns, steps close, and takes my face between her hands. “Lyra. Stop.” She demands.

I end the sound of anger and betrayal and fear, but can’t stop the talon from bleeding rotten blood. “You…You promised not to tell anyone else.” I whisper at her. Golden eyes a sudden torment to my soul.

“I’m so sorry. But I… I overstepped when I made that promise.” She pleads. “I thought this would be easy, but it isn’t. Our family is stubborn and just won’t calm their tits. And your mother was a perfect choice to help Usete.”

“And Equin?” I reach up to take one wrist with my left talon, pull the other back as far as it will go. “Just… How many should I expect to–”

Twitch twitch. Should have cursed her too. Should curse them all…

I growl at the blighted thing.

Never. Bite you off if you try that again!

“She was helping me figure things out!” She ignores the growl and tries to pull me closer, Amwella almost reaching for my core. “I didn’t think she would let anything slip.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Thendra’s words are a balm and curse as real as any Lamentation.

All others will scorn or ravage you.

“Lyra, we can still work this out.” She whispers, leans a forehead into mine. “Just… stay here. With me. Please. I can protect you. Show them we can fix this.”

Fix… This?

The brand of Furthonois burns hot on my Amwella.

Fix me.

Handle me.

Unmake me.

Enslave me.

I tug on her wrist, try to… to pull her away as I squeeze my eyes shut. “No.”

“Awnya.” Melivias demands.

My eyes snap open, and I spot the feathered Fae approaching now. Eyes worried and hard and careful. A predator approaching a snake that has coiled around her cub. “Step back from her. Let me–”

Awnya doesn’t release me, just turns to glare at the woman. “No. She’s mine. Back off.”

From the corner of my eye I can see my mother and her child staring in horror at my blighted talon as it bleeds such horrid rot.

Her eyes flit to mine, a plea on her lips. “Please.”

Then an annoyed sigh huffs out from behind. “Family gatherings are always such a... A bane to happiness.”

Everyone pauses, eyes turn to stare past me in… in a sort of pained confusion.

Cold arms wrap around me as tendrils wriggle through my hair, and a whirl of green smoke engulfs everything.

Then we’re back in her manor. And over those first few horrid seconds everything from the past moments begins to drown me.

Awnya… just like the humans, just like every Fae I’ve ever met…

Wants to fix me.

I scream and almost crumble to the floor inside the little damp chamber. Hard and loud and filled with all the things I’d normally beg Thendra to let me weave into a song.

Talons claw up and into my face as the blighted blood goes clean. Naranggas begin to drive the blade’s tip into the floor in answer to my building fury.

And now all the Fae will know about me…

Will…

Will try to find me and…

And unweave me and…

Tretion turns me around, drags talons from my flesh, and pulls me into a hug, cold arms holding me close.

Just… murmurs soft nothing into my howling fury.

Crack Whip-Snap go my tails, tossing the stupid blade at the wall. It clatters before falling flatly as my tails weave and curl about her core, her glacially cold soul a beacon of refracted light of affections against the self-loathing I'm drowning in.

And there we stand for the eternity it takes me to break under the pain of being seen as wrong again by a person I love.