CW:

Assisted suicide. Deaths. talon's down throats.

I jolt to a halt, Uldra’s eyes go wide as his request settles between us.

“No... I can’t…” I stammer.

“I don’t want the Rot to take me. Want to… to end clean.” He looks between us.

The maggots settle, because they know… they know how much this agony will ripple out from this.

How his death will hurt me and stir the dream.

“Maybe they’ll find a way to heal you!” I whimper, eyes locked to his as my hands fall away. “I… I’ll try to sing the curse off and–”

Ganzorig reaches out, touches my cheek. “No. They’ve tried, and if you get close to succeeding the curse will finish me at this point.”

And like the mountains his soul sings of, I can see in his eyes that he is ready for his flame to fade.

So I find comfort in the punishment of the curse’s bite as I begin a soft horrid melody of Ganzorig’s ending. And the maggots do not bite or sting as his songs are joined with mine.

A guiding hand to direct my wellspring of Amwella to know what to pull and where to push.

It doesn’t take nearly long enough, and… and by the end he’s taken me into his big rocky arms even as I can feel them cracking and crumbling.

He can weave no comforts into his song. Knows that the curse could flare up and end him in blighted rot and ruin if he offers me even a small amount of peace.

Uldra doesn’t help either. She can’t. Stopped by my own commands from singing.

A deep sigh in the old Fae’s soul and song, and I begin to see his Amwella shift and… and begin to… to…

Golden light, like a flame begins to ripple across the soul. A burning that consumes the rot maggots and ripples across his Amwella. And for a second my song shifts to hope and joy and such sudden–

But then his own soul begins to burn.

I squeeze him tighter, and my song shifts down into such misery and despair.

But Ganzorig’s harmony to my agony is one of such relief.

A wondrously beautiful song of a man free of pain for the first time in over a year. Then his unyielding arms shift. Unbreakable steady stone finally just... shattering. I feel them turn to dust and ash.

By the time I realize he’s gone, all that’s left in my hands are the robes he was wearing.

And I barely even notice the sudden end to my curses sting as I stare down at the half-dozen cracked scales that remain among his ashes.

Then my everything is shattering with him as Tretion takes me into her arms.

"Beloved, I… I know. But we need to go.” She murmurs as tendrils curl about me.

“I… I didn’t… I…”

She pulls me close, but also drags me to stand. “I know. But we need to-”

A call, a murmur of song, and someone asking something.

Not Uldra, and not Tretion.

By the time I’m able to look around my watcher the three Fae have already moved farther into the room. I recognize the tall bird lady, Melivias, but not the other two.

“It’s… Not as simple as we thought.” Uldra is standing and approaching them, tears in her eyes.

Melivias raises a hand, an annoyed glare on her face. “I can sense the blight on you, Uldra.”

And suddenly my own sadness and despair is suddenly replaced with cold furious Reaver instincts.

Muscles coil like a viper, ready to move and shove talons down throats.

Uldra glances back to me, a plea in her eyes. One begging for trust. But…

I pull Naranggas free of my Tretion, and take a step to shield her, gathering my Amwella up just shy of enduring another sting. But my core is still so bruised from the day of such tiring and blighted songs.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“We’re leaving.” I hiss. “Move.”

The Fae don’t, only shift in fury and fear as their glimmering eyes try to follow my whirling Naranggas.

“Lyra, let me calm them.” Uldra murmurs, eyes drift past me to the pile of ashes. “I… Please.”

“Will you get them to let me leave?” I ask flatly.

She winces, fights to… to… to give me an answer I want to hear. But can’t. Bound to give me only truths and never lead me into believing a lie.

“I… I won't. But… Maybe we can work something out?”

“Uldra, was it?” My watcher asks. Seeing an echo of my own past commands to her. “You heard his words, his death song. He believes what you’ve all sought for my Lyra was wrong.”

I can’t help but wither a bit as I... I recall the horrid thing Awnya's father asked me to sing for him. The melody and the tune and... and how it just... harmonized so well with another horrid Fae word.

“What?” Melivias asks, eyes widen a bit. “He… the Old Goat is…”

“Dead, yes.” Tretion supplies quickly and without hesitation. “He wished to pass due to his own songs instead of a curse’s bite. Tragic, but in the end even he said it wasn’t Lyra’s fault. That he knows he pushed her into defending herself when she laid that curse. I was not there, and do not know even the faintest details of the conflict, but I know my beloved, she does not wish to cause pain and suffering.”

I have to take a few deep breaths as my heart is both broken and soothed by her words. Need to return a Naranggas to her soul to calm my own writhing soul. Need to… to keep a Waking Nightmare from hitting now.

I miss the first few words of whatever one of the two other Fae are saying. “...Intentions were. We need to contain her. Limit any possible Rot she might spread.”

The brand on my soul seethes.

I hiss, low and warning. “Like Uldra just tried? By taking my lover from me and… and leaving me helpless and alone on a blighted rift!?!”

A long pause as they flinch back at my anger. I let my Naranggas spread and loosen grip on Tretion as my knees bend.

“It…” Uldra tries to speak, winces as a maggot nibbles. “I am inclined to believe it was the correct choice, and I would still work to do it again. But... We can work out a compromise, I think? One that allows you to see your watcher at times?”

I growl. “I’m not letting any of you touch me again, Uldra.”

"You've no right to her body or soul." Tretion adds, a comforting hand lightly brushing at my shoulders. "She came here in good faith to help your kind heal, and you attacked her. Were I'm from such actions are not the mark of a good people."

Melivias only just now seems to recover a bit from the realization of the Fae’s death. Looks to her two companions, to Uldra, then to me.

Glimmering eyes narrow with unshed tears. “You cursed her.”

“Of course! She was going to keep me as… as some kind of pet or slave on that blighted rift!” I spit, words of the Old Road coming out before I can consider them. “I will Reave anyone who tries to claim me as their own.”

They bristle at the words, then balk at my threat.

Tretion's hand stills to rest on my shoulder. “She’s spent the past year with me not spreading this… rot you speak of. Safe and healing. We only left that to come and try to help.”

“And now another Fae is dead.” Melivias retorts, angry and hurting.

Tretion replies as softly as possible. “He was at peace with his decision and spent his final words admitting his mistakes. Do you wish to honor his memory by repeating them?”

I can’t help but curl a tendril around her soul in such love and admiration. So glad she is better with words than I am.

But… Sensing that she is pleading into the howling winds now.

Melivias shakes her head. “I… We can worry about that later. Lyra this is your last chance to–”

That’s the mistake my body was waiting for.

A pause, a second of broken words to clarify both that this Fae will not be moved, and that she is incredibly stupid and will announce herself like a squawking hawk before diving after prey.

Despite her age, she is too stupid to consider a lone Reaver the match for three mature Fae.

She’s fast, I’ll give her that, and is able to weave the beginnings of a tune before I’m slamming into her and jamming my blighted talon down her throat.

Naranggas strike out like vipers at the two Fae souls at my sides, wrapping around and around before squeezing tight. The beginnings of melodies of protecting and sleeping and other useless things begin to echo.

But… the eruption of my tendrils' eternity of tooth and claw send such a painful surge through them that it is choked. Neither are as old or sturdy as Ganzorig, nor as quick to melt and escape me before I am yanking their Amwella free of their bodies.

Ending two Fae as easily as breathing.

Melivias has my wrist in one hand while swiping the other across my face. I would have screamed as her own talons ripped across one of my eyes, But I’m feasting on two wondrously vibrant Fae flames and can’t even feel the pain.

Can already taste their weeping life, feel my own form and Amwella burn hot to restore the wounds. Just… just like a Reaver.

Her soul is already melted, a darting thing that whirls away from my tendril with the ease and grace of a leaf on the wind. But against all three of my hungry Naranggas?

Even with the delirium and dizziness of sudden and intoxicating feeding euphoria I am able to cut and slice and make this Dreamer Blighted slaver scream and thrash against the talon that chokes her.

Screams and shouts of surprise and fear from behind me. Yelps of pain as I sense Uldra’s soul flinch and quiver as my curse stops her from helping her fellow Fae.

It’s only then that I consider not killing this Fae. That… that I glare down into her eyes and wonder if I should endure more of my curse’s pain to bind her to my will like Uldra.

A flash of golden eyes and a pleading grasp at my arm. A memory of another who has now lost a father to my wretched workings… and I grind my teeth and hiss a curse onto this horrid woman’s soul.

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

“Lie still.” I growl as my song ends and rot maggots settle into her core.

She doesn’t, not at first, but her Amwella is not Ganzorig’s or even Uldra’s. And soon she is exhausted and gasping from the pain. Limp beneath my hold.

“You will remain here, mute and still until you hear a Fae confirm I am gone from this place. Then you may ignore all my commands.”

Then I’m rising, eye still healing but… devoid of pain. Turn back to see Tretion kneeling over Uldra and just… staring at me. Eyes wide with… with…

Fear.

“T– Tretion?” I whisper.

A beat, she blinks. Then shakes her head and rises. Approaches slowly, cautiously. My Naranggas desperately want to touch her soul and bask in its affections…

But… but I… what if she saw me kill these two and–

Hand at my cheek, thumb beneath my maimed healing eye. “Let’s go home beloved.”

“I…”

“It’s okay. You did what you had to do.” She takes up my talons, begins to lead me toward the door. “Can you lead us out?”

I nod, give a command to the slumped Uldra to stay here and that she may ignore all my commands at the same time as the bird Fae, and we’re moving at a quickened pace.

“You said we can’t riftwalk till we’re above ground?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay, then let’s move quickly. Can you try and hide us with your songs? The ones you told me about?”

“I... I think so? I don’t know if they’ll be good enough to fool the Fae though.”

“It’s worth the risk, I think. Otherwise I might stand out a bit.” She quickens her pace. “Lyra, I need you to take hold of my soul. We can't risk a Waking Nightmare here.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and let them touch and weave about her soul while I push through my curse to ask this big tree to hide us.

And nearly choke out a sob as her Amwella sings only of love for me and worries about our safety. Not even a shred of fear or worry as my dangerous soul tails curl around her soul still dripping of the weepings of Fae Amwella...

Outside the tunnels the big open area is thankfully fairly empty with only a few Fae about.

But with every step my mind keeps sagging down toward the muck in my soul.

Feeding euphoria is a balm of warm satisfied joy, and it is fading fast as the raging storm of horror at… at what’s all happened today drags me down.

Fighting to keep my legs moving as I remember the weird thing that drove into my back and paralyzed me.

The threat of centuries alone with only Uldra, the despair and fury and… and Reavers hunting and chasing and…

I’m stumbling then, Tretion holds me up as my song sputters out.

The curse's pain only acts as a beacon to this Waking Nightmare now.

“I got you love, I’ll get us out.” She’s lifting me as best she can, and my Naranggas squeeze as tightly as they can.

Trying to… to drag the perfect cold from her soul into mine…

Ganzorig’s unmaking, my blighted curse that drove him to such pain and misery. His anger and fury a brew poured out because of how I’d let the maggots direct my will in those horrid seconds. I’d cursed him to drive the Fae to seek to hurt me.

And… and then I helped end him.

Awnya’s beloved father... She... she's going to be hurt so much by this!!!

I... she's... if she... if she didn't hate me before this... how could she ever forgive me for this!?!?

How... how can I ever forgive myself?

Tretion stumbles a bit, then hisses in pain. “Lyra… Lyra I need you to loosen your grip. L– Let me–”

Perfect weeping warmth drips from the glacier of wondrous fire I cling to. And it’s… it’s helping drive back the muck.

A few calls of Fae song. A sudden curiosity in the two odd creatures stumbling from the heart of the Twilight Court.

Tretion lifts me, “We’re close, beloved. Al- almost home. Hold on tight.”

So I do, and right as the light breaks the ridge and the familiar green storm engulfs us to sweep us home.

Then I feel a crack beneath my Naranggas.

Followed by a shattering of ice, and a wash of soulfire.