CW:

Emotional thingies that HURT. A request to die.

The White Wood is… weird. Where all the other trees go up to poke at the clouds, this thing spirals and weaves down. Spiraling and curling directly into one of the larger islands with a hollowed out trunk that spreads out to at least the span of Theradas’ ravine.

Uldra leads me, and I’ve laid quite the cacophony of commands to ensure she will not betray me. Simple, but effective. But… also tempered with some flexibility to make sure she can adapt. She knows more about this tower than me, and I’ve made my demands quite clear.

She huffs, a ton of stress still showing in her tone. “Just… let me handle any talking, okay?”

I snort, “Sure, just don’t betray me.”

She flinches at the command, but… nods. And begins to lead us down the winding pathways that curl around the bit upside down tree’s insides. There are plenty of Fae about, and many of them are just flying about.

“Once we’re in the White Wood no one can riftwalk.” Uldra had explained.

So as we descend, my own anxieties cause my Naranggas to pull close instead of writhe about. Without their claws the most that could happen is that a Fae gets a little boop of pressure, but… we need to avoid anyone looking too closely at me and my soul.

* * *

“There won’t be an immediate response, especially with me at your side.” She glowers at the sand then as the maggots begin to perk up. “But… There are plenty who would be surprised to see me walking about. I prefer to spend my years in my tilling grounds. And some will have heard word that you’d been brought to me.”

I’d nodded. “And if they confront us?”

She’d huffed. “I’ll try to talk them into thinking that you're just a new protégé and I left the Blight Weaver to stew for a bit.”

The title made me wince. “What? Is… Really? That’s what you all call me!?!”

She’d shrugged. “I didn’t pick it.”

“Okay but… let’s say someone recognizes me and decides to do something stupid.” I press. “What will you do, Uldra?”

She grimaces in pain as a nibble jolts her. “I… I suspect I’ll fight your curse for as long as I can. And if I can weave a song through it to try and trip you up… I’ll do that too.”

A long pause.

I reach out, mimic my dark goddess and tilt her chin to look into my eyes. “I don’t want any of this. I never have. I was safe and happy and… and healing even.”

That had… well not changed her mind. But… made her seem more contemplative. Conflicted even. But… She’s my only chance at getting my watcher back.

* * *

Down and down… and eventually I… I think…

“Are we close?”

Uldra nods. “One more level.”

I find myself more comfortable as we turn into a side tunnel. After so long within our manor I prefer closed confined spaces as opposed to the open air.

“The… at least one of the Fae you blighted are kept here as well.”

I pause, a shadow on my mind's horizon wiggling up at the name I whisper. “Ganzorig?”

She stops, looks over to me. “Will you try and help him? Like you said?”

I look down at my maimed talon, shake my head to push away the thoughts, “I… If you hadn’t done what you did. I would have tried. But I can’t risk it.”

Tears form as… as I think about Awnya and… and how… how It’ll be my fault when he…

Uldra just… stares. Eyes distant. Hard even. But… more conflicted than ever. “What if… I… tried to work things out for you. Talk with the other elders?”

“Would you let me go? Or help me escape?” I whisper. “If… if I tried and it delayed me enough for other Fae to show up?”

She purses her lips, shakes her head. “I still think you’re far too dangerous to be allowed to roam free.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

I nod, sniff and wipe my eyes. “Then no. Let’s find my beloved, and get us both out.”

Eventually we’re at a darkened doorway, and inside is a simple living space and kitchen. Even a little couch with-

My Tretion lies peacefully adrift in sleep. I can’t help but rush over to her and try to shake and kiss her awake as my Naranggas curl around her soul. She stirs and groggily murmurs annoyances and tries to return to sleep. Without hesitation I push through the curse's sting and begin to hum a quiet melody of waking and love and gentle pleading. Her eyes drift open as my weaving washes over her.

“Hello beloved.” She murmurs, then her face begins to drown in confusion.

“We need to get out of here.” I whisper back. “This… You were right. I’m so sorry.”

She blinks, pushes to sit up and look around the room. Spots Uldra hovering in the doorway. “I… What happened?”

“I’ll… explain when we’re out.” I take her hands, pull her to stand. “We need to get above ground so you can take us home.”

Her eyes go a bit wide as sudden fear and realization sets it. “They… Oh Lyra I… They…”

I suppress a wince as the cold wash of it begins to cut into my own unsteady emotions as I sense her panic through my Naranggas.

“It’s okay!” I touch her face. “Let’s just… go.”

She nods, swallows, soul alight with fear and worry but… she’s better at steadying herself. But then her eyes dart over me to a doorway within this little room. Soul sparks up with worry and sadness and… and such despair and…

I turn, and realize what I missed.

“They… Asked me things, and a song made me happy to talk and help and… listen.” She whispers while standing. “When they told me of my own curse they wanted to compare and…”

I can’t see him, but… I can hear the subtle drifting of the old Fae’s ancient melody.

Uldra’s eyes meet mine, and I swallow. “I… I can’t. I wouldn’t even know where to start…”

I’m pulling Tretion toward the door, wracked between fear and… and… I make the mistake of glancing over through the doorway.

The room is empty, and Ganzorig sits cross legged on a mat with a single cup of some drink beside him. His Amwella is nothing but a cracked husk of holes and horrid fissures with black rot at the edges.

I would have kept moving, would have… have just run. But then his eyes open and lock onto mine. Both would be perfect and healed if not for the angry brand that curls over the white of one of them. And his face… it… it…

No.

Anger roils as I see his own cold regard. The Naranggas free of my lover’s soul writhe.

It’s only then that I realize I’ve stopped.

“Lyra.” Tretion prompts.

But I’m already moving, unsteady legs carrying me toward this old dying Fae.

He just… glowers at me as I stop in the doorway, my terrified watcher behind me.

“I didn’t want this.” I whisper, glare back. “You came after me.”

His eyes narrow, and I can feel his response to that.

You hurt Awnya.

“It… That was an accident.” I hiss, “She… she was trying to help and… and I didn’t know how to control them and... and I'd been... The...”

An eyebrow raises ever so slightly at my stammering of excuses.

I growl. “You may ignore all my previous commands, Just… don’t try to capture, hurt, or unweave me.”

A long pause, and I see no change.

“I don’t want you to die.” I huff and look away. “I hate you, but… Look just… They say you're dying and don’t know why. But… that should only happen if you're resisting a command, and Awnya no doubt cleared them all.”

No reply.

“So… Why? What command are you resisting that’s killing you?”

I huff in annoyance after a few heartbeats, then turn to leave with–

“Rot and Ruin,” He whispers, “That’s a relief, at least.”

I pause, turn to glare. “What?”

“You’re just… too young and stupid to know what you’re doing.” He grumbles a laugh. “Will make it easier then.”

I bristle. “Will make what easier?”

“For them to handle you.”

I round on the Fae, the word making the brand on my soul twitch. “Why!?! I… I never wanted this! Never wanted to curse you or… or Usete or–”

He shrugs. “Does it matter?”

I hiss, take another step toward him. But… but… seeing his soul, all the wounds and agony and… and…

“Why can’t it?” I can feel tears prickle in my eyes. “Why… Why can’t I just find a little happiness!?!”

That… makes him pause, a flash of something behind his ancient eyes.

Guilt?

“Lyra I…” Tretion touches my arm. “We should leave. This is just–”

“You blight everything you love.” He murmurs.

I jerk, “N– No… That’s…”

His eyes flit past me, to my watcher. “Is there a lover that you haven't cursed, Lyra?”

I go still, “Not Awnya. You know I’d never do that to her!”

“Maybe…” A flash of relief, then his face stills. “Good thing she’s not here.”

I can’t stop the rage filled tears then as… and memories of his attempt at unmaking. At how… how I could feel those old wrong human things–

Tretion souls sings of a very direct and focused worry. “Lyra. We need to go. You can’t help him.”

I look back at her, eyes filling with tears. “B– But If… I… He’s Awnya’s dad! Her beloved father. I… She loves him and… and if he dies because of me…”

Her face matches her soul's pain at my despair. “I know, but… you can’t.” She takes both talons, tugs me toward the door.

There’s a grunt, and I jerk back to see Ganzorig hunch over in pain, the rot maggots beginning to bite. Hard. Harder than I’ve ever seen. So hard that I know the rest of his soul will crack if this keeps going.

Without hesitation I yelp out and am darting toward him. “You may Ignore all my commands!”

Then I’m at his side, angry and crying and pleading.

“Please! Ganzorig! D– Don’t–”

But he’s still grunting in pain, eyes… eyes squeezed shut as the rot maggots continue to nibble furiously. Uldra joins me. Sits in silent worry with me.

WHY!?! There are no commands left! This shouldn’t be happening!!!

“I… Lyra.” He grunts. “The… the curse it’s…” He reaches out, and places a hand on my shoulder. I freeze then.

Sudden fear that… that he’ll try to unweave me again.

“I’m sorry.” He huffs.

The maggots bite so hard at those words.

“Wh– What?” I jerk back as if he slapped me.

The… the words and the rot maggots reaction to them just… not making sense.

“You… you need to know… I… I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

“B– But–”

“The first… the first lines of your curse. I… I thought… A trap for the Fae. But you didn’t. Didn’t mean to lay it that way.” He coughs as a huge part of his soul cracks and falls away. “You’re just as… as mangled as the blights you bleed.”

Uldra balks at that, “What do you mean, Old Goat?”

He shakes his head. “The curse, it… it demands that I Spread the Rot, and Stir the Dream.”

I freeze. “No… No it was just a command. Just a… a demand to obey me… I didn’t…”

But as he lifts his eyes to gaze into mine, displaying that horrid blood brand to me, and the memory of that terrible night drowns me.

Of… of how in a split second of madness I had whispered that into the song as I popped his eye and wove the curse…

* * *

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.

* * *

I whimper as the memory solidifies, reaching out to take his face. “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t.”

“My fault.” He grunts. Another part of his soul flakes off, leaving such a small thing left. “Lyra, you… you need help. Not… not an unmaking. I'm... I think that you might even be more F-”

Another bite.

“N– No. Ganzorig. Stop!” I’m pleading through terrible sobs.

He looks to Uldra. “Tell them that. Tell them I… I’ve been trying to fight it… but… but It started to mangle me. Made things… so confusing. Made me suggest and say things that… that might get there. Quick or slow… it did not matter.” He turns back to me. “Just so long as it spreads rot and ruin, and what better way than to just keep hurting you?”

Uldra’s face is one of horror as she realizes what this means. That… that after that night Ganzorig had been compelled under threat of Amwella death to spread the blight he devoted himself to containing, and that at some point he realized that the best way to do this was to direct the Fae into mimicking his horrible plans for me.

All that anger at his daughter, all his spite toward me… it… it was just, at least in part, him being pushed by my blighted curse!?!

At least after that night!?!

“I… I need you to… to do something. For me.” The maggots settle at the pain behind those words.

“Anything.” I take his old tired face in my good hand. “Just please don’t di–”

“Help me unweave myself.”