Cw:
SO good news ffirst! BEG chappy and first ever ever Tretion POV. YAY!
Bad news... Death. Suicide attempts. soul drinking. First Tretion POV.
We’re home. And I’m all but fully carrying her forward to safety.
My Beloved.
My Lyra.
Touching the gateway, shouting for Lenelope as we collapse into a slump. But… but why am I so tired?
Why do I feel so weak. So cold. Colder than I've ever…
I glance down at myself, looking for… for…
Lyra’s cute soul tails pull back, drenched in the shards of my own cracked and broken soul and slurping up the remains.
Leaving me empty. A corpse just waiting for her final breaths.
But… My body just hasn’t caught up. Sometimes these things can take a few moments to… to settle in. Amwella Death is often a thing the victims have time to feel fully before... before...
So without hesitation I kneel and curl around my Lyra.
My little wonderful Fae.
I can only weep at what I know she’ll awaken to as I watch her spasm and sob through what is the worst Waking Nightmare I’ve ever seen her suffer.
“I’m so sorry, beloved.” I whisper. “I… I love you so much. You are the most perfect girl I’ve ever met. Thank you for saving me. From… from my own wretched family and horrid mind.”
So cold. Everything… everything is fading now. Going still and–
“Please don’t… Don’t blame yourself for this. It’s not your fault! Please. Go to Awnya and… and find your happiness without me. Please. I love you. I love you. I LOVE YOU…”
Then I close my eyes and wait for the end as I chant those words over and over and over as I feel the cold gathering.
Almost…. Almost wish I could take her with me… Help her escape this horrid life that only seems to hurt us both.
* * *
I awaken to the sight of my watcher’s cold and still face, arms and head tendrils wrapped around me.
Lenelope is crying softly off to one side.
And I know from all of my senses, all at once, that my beloved is dead and gone from this dream.
“Tretion!?!”
No breath, no cold affections, no soul.
I’m jerking up then. Looking down to my own core to… to see…
Shards of cold blue scattered about. Pieces of the soul of my Beloved. Cracked and consumed within my own.
“No!” I hiss. “No no no no no!!!”
I roll Tretion onto her back even as soul wracking sobs consume me.
I ate her soul!?!
That…
That wasn’t–
I didn’t–
The curse stings, and I am growling nonsense Fae words down at my Amwella, demanding it give up what it just ate.
Nothing happens.
Frothing and spitting and hissing I lay my threats clear, hear the echo of old words I growled at Usete…
“I will sing the blighted dreaming cunt of a goddess awake if she won’t GIVE MY TRETION BACK!!!”
Bubbles begin to writhe and tremble at my threat. Our manor suddenly roused and sensing the death and fury rising within it's depths and... and something more that I don't have the mind to-
New Caretaker.
I freeze in… in terror at… at how it wants me to be…
The manor growls a warning to me.
Stop.
In sudden fury I redouble my working. Twisting all my Fae words into the mix.
Perfect and horrible alongside the writhing and wretched. The Fae word for home wrecked and ruined by fear and pain and spite amidst the Melody for The End.
The bubbles try to wrap about me, crackle and pop and work to wind up to try and cover my mouth and drag me from my reckless workings.
To... to drag me into becoming their new mistress.
Alone again in the place that I killed the one woman who loved me with reckless abandon.
Without hesitation I toss a chorus of pain back at it, watch in a sort of gleeful regret as the bubbles pop and the floor beneath them shake. Our home screams in agony and terror. And I know that I have wounded it.
I turn back to Tretion, to my own soul, to… to the shards of cruel pitiless Ice that do nothing but continue to melt and dissolve into my own core.
Wailing now, face only inches from hers. A crazed Fae screaming at the dream to wake her beloved.
But the dream doesn’t answer. Doesn’t yield. And the more I fight and twist and bare my soul toward this task, the more my Amwella and curse burns and bites.
The more it eats the soulflame I took from her.
So… In sudden deep and unbearable terror of a Waking Nightmare of my own making… I keep my promises.
I twist the Melody of The End as the core of my song, and decide to Reave the Dream that would take my beloved watcher from me. Rot maggots rise up, Amwella writhes and weeps from my core like a flood, as I devote my everything to what I know will be this body’s last song as the curse bites so hard.
My Shrike of The End.
The house is screaming with me now, and I think I hear Lenelope’s pleading sobs for me to stop. Wordless begging at the Reaver who means to shred everything around her.
The floor trembles, and there is the far off groaning of a large beast dying. The walls and floor have just… started to crack. And I smell the sea that would consume any who find themselves between the Rifts.
A void drowning in rot and blight and fouler things still.
But I’m pouring everything into this song of reckless misery and agony and hatred. As much Amwella as will fit into my cursed melody. The symphony of my pain and sorrows rolling out from my everything. A great working of song and soul I will use to rouse the Dreamer and END THIS NIGHTMARE!
A few of my Maggots even sing with me, slip from the blighted talon to burrow into the popped and wounded bubbles all around us.
Weaving my Dreadsong into the manor’s crumbling foundations under the threat of this horrid Dream’s End.
BRING MY WATCHER BACK!!!
Then the house cracks, tilts to one side a ship in a storm, and I’m losing my balance. Sliding away from my lover, barely holding onto my song as I reach out to hold her hand one last–
A mighty crash, and I’m thrown back, tumbling… and I’ve slipped out of a large crack in the manor’s walls into the sea of death beyond.
* * *
Rot and Ruin, blight and that wretched void roils around me.
It hurts.
Burns flesh and bone and soul. Freezes and bites and twists and… and… But then it stops?
I can’t help but… but find such comfort in the wash and waves all around me. A calming balm that soothes a broken soul that writhes in agony after my Dreadsong’s ending.
Then there’s a... A pulse? And suddenly the dark muck twists into the most vibrant colors and shapes! A wonderful beautiful ocean that twists and whirls in tune with my heart and soul.
A lover returned to Her horrid embrace.
I’m still consumed by pain and despair and just… wanting to… to end with my beloved watcher. But… no songs can be sung in this blighted ocean, and no oblivion can take me. So for a time… I just…
Drift.
Repressing a sobbing melody that aches to finally be free of all this agony.
Eventually great glowing shapes pass by me, and pods of glimmering little nightmares wriggle up to inspect this odd thing that swims through their beloved ocean. At first I vaguely worry they might nibble at my toes and soul. Seek to devour this little beacon of warmth and song slipping through an ocean of death. But… They just snuggle close before darting away.
They don’t want to hurt me. Why would they? Why scorn or ravage me when there is such a grand feast of death around them? The corpse of some goddess long dead and rotting just… easily consumed and enjoyed.
So I join them.
Open myself up to drink wonderfully vibrant blight into my everything!
Let it replace all the old stupid things that hurt my mind and soul.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Then… quicker than I can prepare for…
I forget who I was, who I am, and who I wanted to be.
No pain, nor memories, or dreams to contrast the vibrant muck of this void. Only friendly little monsters and grand leviathans swimming about my pretty forever home.
After that... I'm content to let the soul tails drag me along. Sweet wriggly guides through the… the… what was this all called again?
Oh well. It doesn’t matter. I like it here.
It’s perfect for me.
At some point a cluster of new and wonderful little awkward things find me. Lumps of fuzzy color and soft fur. The clutch snuggles close and coo affectionately as if they… They know me?
And... and adore me!?!
My heart flutters and my eyes leak radiant tears for these wonderful creatures that wish to swim and wiggle through the blight with us. And soon they’re pestering me to bring them another feast of sweet warmth.
Or maybe… maybe even just good snuggles?
I don’t remember them, but I love them and really want to make them happy. So I hold them close and promise to try.
Days and months and years and eternities pass… I think. I’m not sure that matters here.
Just… another thing I forgot and don’t feel the need to worry about.
But… eventually my Naranggas lead me to something… solid? A wall of unyielding warmth we cannot feast open. My new family grumbles and nibbles at it. Begging me to try and… and go through. To take them with me and find wonderful things to eat and snuggle!
So of course I do it!
I’ll do anything for those that want to be with me!
I pull my family close, settle them in the deepest recesses of myself. Into the maybe places of thought and song at the edges of my mind and soul.
Then I’m exploring the wall, finding little holes and breaks that could allow me to pass. Weave and squeeze myself through cracks and scars and little leaks. With every moment, little memory flashes wash against my mind. And… and I would hesitate, would recoil back at the sudden pain and agony of the things. But… My little family is preening and cooing and so very happy at the promises I made while my tendrils continue to fight to move us forward.
So I keep going. Wriggling and tunneling my way to a dry city of sand and spice.
And like some oozing odd thing I am crawling naked up from the muck I’ve been swimming in. Coughing and choking and gagging up the ocean while I grip at the heated sandstone floor. And as I drag my way up, the colorful ocean drips away.
Leaving me as the only trace of its existence.
I just… lay there for a while. Staring up at the rolling stars above as… as thoughts begin to form.
I was here before? When?
What… What was I doing…?
Horrid memories begin to nibble and bite at the edges of my mind, and I can feel a Waking Nightmare beginning to follow as my body is being slowly wrapped in… something.
Something beautiful that hurts and burns with the fire of my soul, then cools and settles about my wriggly mess.
Oldest memories first, starting with my shouting humans, the woods, the… the Fae and the mercy of a beloved sibling’s hatred…
I fight to stand, desperate to… to find someone. A… a person who can help me?
But my body is a weird mess of strange sensations and old unfamiliar motions. All girl shapes but... Still used to happily wriggling through my beloved ocean.
Then I see it… the entrance to a manor. Doors familiar and… and behind them? What?
Glowing Jade eyes. Her dark smile, cruel affections and painful lessons come back in a rush as I tumble forward. All desperate desires for her unyielding gaze and strong arms to… to hold me and mold my thoughts into something I can survive!
Then I’m at the doors, shoving them open, nearly falling to my knees as… as… Seven hungry predators stare back. Smothering Amwella sight crushes the hope that was kindling within my soul as watchers eyestalk twist and bob to watch me. Hateful and hauntingly all too familiar to… someone else.
Someone I loved? And… Or someone I hated?
I can only stand and stare at the conflict brewing within my own soul and searching desperately for the Jade eyes of the one who can help me.
A few low growls of surprise rumble through them, curiosity at this new strange woman who just stumbled into their pit. But then that turns to hunger, a few exchanged words in our beautiful tongue. Some eyes glimmer, and they tilt their heads to watch my tails in curiosity.
“Who is this?”
“I’ve not seen another bearing a soul growth like our cruelties.”
“She looks like an escaped slave.”
I hiss, soul tails twist and writhe about as a strange brand on my soul howls at their words.
A few low thrums of laughter. And even more come from the stairs and side passages, marking their number at ten total. One steps forward, a cruel grin on her face as she sort of… kneels. Eyestalks all focusing on me.
“Hello, little one.” She purrs. “You’ve wandered into a dangerous place. But, if you come with me I’ll make sure our feedings are–”
But I’m already leaping at her in a hissing spitting fit of sudden fury, and the memories start to return in a flood as I kill Twital again.
Flashes of my bargains laid before me as clear as words on a page when another Reaver gets a hold of my arm and snaps it like a twig. But… she’s just a dead woman growling at the dream’s end.
Her soul is already eaten and being turned into the fuel to burn through this body to fix the damage while her Naranggas joins mine.
The next three are harder, and get a few good cuts on my Amwella before It goes wiggly. But the first two women’s souls were assimilated by then, so my new tails give me enough strength to rip their souls free and assimilate their tails. Getting out from under their corpses before the next four got to me wasn’t easy though.
But… another memory flashes. Golden amber eyes and giggling Amwella dances help me twist free and dart beneath their hands before I’m digging clean talons into two while wailing curses through an old curses sting.
Maggots preen and yip in joy at my gift of soulfire.
It barely hurts now. A pinprick of pain compared to the memories it triggers.
You will obey all of my(Lyra’s) commands.
“Lie still and NEVER stop clawing your own eyes out.” I hiss in our shared purring tongue.
Leaving them for later as my Naranggas Reave the other two souls free.
The last hesitates, considers the door, but in her hesitation I drive my countless Naranggas into her soul and tear it in two before slurping down the contents.
It would have been so quiet if not for the wonderful melody of the two living Reaver’s wailing hissing growls. A harmony of pain dancing between following my command and clawing out their own eyes over and over again as their body tries to restore them… or not and bearing the curses sting.
After a while, the muck of memories start to hurt again, so I consume their agonized souls and reclaim my… my…
Maggots?
But… That’s such a horrid name for them!!! They’re my family!!! And honestly… more like little tendril-less jellyfish.
I… I wonder if they would like to grow some?
Memories of the abyss between the Rifts flood into me. Of perfect calm and Dreamless wanderings. But after only a few joyous moments of feeding euphoria, I remember everything from before...
Tretion’s cold dead body, and the Dreadthing I sang to Reave our home apart.
In a panic I desperately try to Reave a tear back to the void between Rifts. To my colorful ocean devoid of pain and memory. But… I can’t. It won't work!
When I try it’s like attempting to open a door that was never there to begin with!!!
By the end of my eleventh failed song I’m weeping amidst the corpses of Reavers. A mass of over a dozen Naranggas writhing and curling and dancing in tune with my sobs. Caught in another Waking Nightmare that mixes all of my blighted memories together.
Hunting Reavers, Fae mercies, betrayed eyes of gold. And… a Bound Beloved I shattered and consumed. Her corpse still and horrid beneath what was supposed to be my final song.
Then I feel them enter the manor through my extended soul pressure sense that comes with all these new Naranggas.
Hearing the whisper of a bowstring, I almost giggle at the freedom it offers as I realize who has found me. Find myself waiting for Bulderii’s shot to crush my head and free me from all this pain.
Return me to the void or unmake me entire. I don’t care which! Just so long as I am free of this wretched Dream!
But a purring of… Of something and… And I hear her.
My Dark Goddess.
The woman who’s oath can set me free!
I feel her approach, soul still such a huge thing when compared to mine. Where my mass of tendrils are simply… difficult to count now, her’s is an eternal storm.
A long pause, and I know she is waiting for me to speak. It… it takes me a bit to form thoughts again.
But… Only one phrase seems to encompass what I want from her.
“Kill me.” I whisper.
A pause, then a purring laugh is her reply.
I look back over my shoulder, find her staring down at me. A grin of such hunger and delight on her face. I would have gotten lost in those twin gemstones of jade, and how much they remind me of the ocean I crave… but… That only makes the tears fall harder.
I want her RAGE!!! A fury at oaths broken and Reaver souls stolen!!!
“Please,” I beg as I’m vaguely aware of Bulderii turning to leave the manor before shutting the big doors behind her.
But Thendra’s joy is unrelenting, eyes glimmering as she takes in the dancing of my new Naranggas.
“I… I don’t even care about the song or the sex, just… just…” My voice is shrill and cracking now as a terror begins to rise in my tummy.
At… at what she’s not–
Jade eyes dance, but she does not move.
“You swore you’d kill me if I asked!!!” I shriek at her. Terror and fury take me as the threat of another nightmare begins to rise. “You promised!”
A pause, then… She purrs so very softly.
“I lied.”
That jolts me. Even studders the Waking Nightmare to a halt.
B– but…
Thendra doesn’t… She doesn’t lie! She keeps her oaths!!!
Then my desperate pain shifts into a bitter roiling rage as she just… smiles down at my panic.
“I’ll make you do it.” I hiss and turn to crouch. Talons and Naranggas twitching in such anger.
Her smile widens. Black teeth and eyes glimmering in challenge. An unspoken taunt.
Then do it!
I’m springing at her then. Digging claws into flesh and entangling our tendrils as my eyes come within inches of hers. But… she barely even rolls back a step at my weight, doesn’t flinch as I clinch to her chest. So I sink talons deeper and wrap sharpened tendrils tighter as my eyes bore into hers.
Jellyfish growl and preen as I clutch all the ingredients to weave such a perfect feast for them.
But… she only slowly rises arms at her sides. Keeping those big hands as far away from my body as possible.
A beat passes, and she only lets out another purring chuckle.
“Do it then, little Reaver.” She laughs.
I growl my wordless warning. Keep. Your. PROMISE!
She speaks a horrid command into the dream. “Sing this curse onto me then.”
I feel my eyes go wide as an old Fae's words flash in my mind.
“Is there a lover you haven't cursed?”
And I’m kicking off her, untangling Naranggas and flailing back to… to get away!!!
As far as possible! N– Not again! I can't curse another person I love!
When I hit the warm tiled floor the curse’s bite that was nothing when I was slaughtering Reavers is suddenly unbearable. I’m barely able to pin the wriggling angry talon to my chest as it savors the blood on its fingertips. Clamping teeth shut, both in seething pain and determination to not wail this lamentation.
This goes on for a time, and I feel Thendra looming over me in… something.
Anger? Disappointment? Bitter annoyance at the failure I am? Maybe… maybe she’s getting ready to… to keep her word and–
Then I am submerged beneath a wave of intoxicating spice and warmth as she moves over me. Feel thrumming perfect flesh hovering just beyond my skin as her breath pulses at my ear.
“Sing. That. Curse.” She taunts with an almost playful tone.
I shake my head and bury my face into the floor to avoid her gaze. Gurgle and hiss a warning through grinding teeth.
She sighs, but… not in annoyance. In satisfaction.
“Stop.”
I wheeze and choke, slump down into a whimpering sobbing mess.
She reaches down, takes my face in one hand, and pulls me up to meet her gaze. “Why won’t you curse me?”
I blubber out some kind of nothing words. Lost to the muck and despair of a Waking Nightmare I can feel rising up… A dreaded thing that… that will make her see just how useless I’ve become.
Her jade eyes dance as she growls at me. It’s soft but… a warning.
A demand to answer.
“It’s… I… I don’t know.” I stammer as my mind fumbles and body trembles.
“Do you think I would submit to such a thing?”
I shake my head.
“So then what would have happened?”
I swallow a choking sob at the memories of my jellyfish devouring Fae and watcher souls.
“Y- you would have…" I swallow hard. Then whisper. "Died.”
Tretion’s cold lifeless form becomes the center of the nightmare as it takes my mind. A flood of pain and misery and images of my beloved dead and gone.
“And where would that have left you?” Her voice is such a… a tormenting thing.
My own fears and despair made real and spoken.
“Alone.” I whisper, and dissolve into a sobbing puddle at the horror of my answer.
The Waking Nightmare uses it as kindling to ignite my mind with all consuming sadness.
* * *
A crack, a pop, and as my third finger snaps back I finally feel the connection!
I weave a howl of such joy as the rift shimmers and wriggles into being. Revealing a damp cavern just beyond.
Over a year of searching, of wading through the muck of that horrid watcher’s records and piecing together whatever nonsense could be made of her plans. Getting distracted dozens of times to free slaves and topple their matrons.
Barely… barely avoiding the ire of their city's rulers and… and even a few gods.
But so long as the blighted things never learn the name of the Fae running about I’ll be fine!
I shake out my hand, whistle a song of Fae shaping to return it to perfection, and take what’ll be the final steps to finally see Lyra again.
The outer chamber is dark, but… illuminated by a flickering rune on the far wall.
“Okay friend.” I hum into a tune. “This is the last step. Final hurdle. If… If you won’t let me in or even pass a message I’m going to be reeeeally upset.”
But as I step forward, I almost trip. The room is… stilted?
Leaning to one side?
None of the journal entries I scavenged mentioned that was… like… a thing.
There is no… like… up or down where this thing floats.
The magic that makes people fall down is tied directly to the manor's will.
The rune flickers again.
All my fears dredge up at that. And I dart forward to lay both hands on the sigil. Hum a plea of friendship and peace. Weave my love for Lyra and desire fo–
I nearly fall forward as the wall just… dissipates, and am immediately hit with the stench of rot and–
A furious tune of protection and sealing is already on my lips. My strongest symphony of life and home and love and hope and dream settling to ward the wall of blight and rot. Fingers are already a bit black on the tips, so I weave healing and expunging in too. Quickly huff the tune as my fingers return to normal. And look up.
A simple well made manor, with walls and carpets that would be fancy if not for the blackening foulness that seems to bleed from a huge crack in the wall. No light sources, but the room is well lit regardless.
And through it all the manor groans in such pain and anguish.
The sound of a leviathan of the deep whimpering and sobbing. And In that noise I can feel its plea.
Help.
So… first things first. I ignore my screaming heart and approach the crack, and spend the next hour coaxing the edges to reform and heal.
I honestly don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve healed small cracks in rifts, and driven away blight from living things. But… this?
Ugh I just sort of mangle the two techniques into my warding symphony and let the ambient melodies show me the way to heal this poor big friend.
Eventually I feel the groans calm, and the house sort of… murmurs in relief. And once the last edges of the crack are sealed, I focus on whittling away at the rot and ruin.
By the time the house is settled I am so tired, but… The smell of the blight is nearly gone, and I decide to start my search.
As I calm my symphony to a hum, I ask the manor to lead me to those that dwell here. The little tittering of groans sounds like a yes, but… I draw my blade and proceed cautiously.
But to my surprise a door just opens just down the hallway and a short, fairly thin and spindly woman stumbles out. Hooved feet clip-clop and big floopy ears bob about as she nearly falls to the floor.
I settle my song.
“Wh– But…” Then her eyes snag on me and she’s yelping in fear. Gaze locking on my half-raised blade.
“Woah woah!” I lower my dagger, “Sorry to startle!”
“Wh.. who are you? How did you get inside?”
I point backwards. “Front door, knocked and asked nicely.”
Her brow furrows, a look between disbelief and worry.
“So… My name's Awnya. I’m a friend of Lyra’s.” I slowly flip my blade around and stow it. Quickly sensing this little cutie has nothing but good songs flowing through her. “Is she around?”
Her eyes go wide. “L– Lyra? A… A friend? But… she’s…”
“Or Tretion, honestly.” I offer. “We met a year back in the Twilight Court. Wanted to just… check in and make sure they were–”
“You’re Fae!?!” She yelps.
“Oh, uh, yeah.” I nod, still trying to read if that will be a good or bad–
“Please! Please Please you must help Lady Tretion!” She stumbles toward me then, grasping my arms and leading me toward the room she tumbled from.
I let her, and only really hesitate when I see the contents of the place. A room of weird slime balls of half visible eck. And a MUCH more visible splat of… something on the far wall with about two dozen eyes. Half locking on me as I appear in the doorway while the other half fixes itself on a form slumped against a wall.
Tretion.
I rush past this little woman to kneel in front of the watcher and focus my every sense on her.
Her eyes are warbling about, unfocused but…
She’s alive at least.
Muscle twitches and spasms, head tendrils are limp and a little stiff but… otherwise seem okay. No rot I can see but… this weird slime guck all around the room seems to gather the closest around her. So next up is my Amwella sight.
Her soul is… interesting. A weird little ball of fuzziness. And… huh.
Was it always like this?
“Okay her soul seems settled and whole.” I murmur as I wind up a song of mind healing. “Can you just… give me the short story of what happened? And let me know where Lyra skipped off to?”
The woman is crying as my song starts up. Can barely get the words out to explain how Lyra and Tretion returned from a trip to the Fae wood to help someone, then came back hurt. Tretion wasn’t moving, and Lenelope (she studders out an apology and introduction through her tears) thought she was dead.
I want to press her on details but… need to focus on my song. I’ll… I can get specifics once Tretion is awake and settled.
Then Lyra woke up, and sang a song. A wailing thing of nightmares that tore the manor open.
“And… and the manor tilted. Like… like something hit us.” She sniffles. “And Lyra fell through the crack.”
I nearly lose the song at that. At… at…
“The manor drug us both back here. Then sealed us in with the heart and kept us safe.” She sighs. “The manor’s Soulwaste started gathering around her the moment I brought her in. Did something to her, then she woke up a bit.”
I’m too late!?!
I’m barely listening then, only just able to keep the song working to try and heal Tretion’s mind of any damage. Make sure to… to add in some soul healing just… just in case.
But… Lyra’s dead or… or the next closest thing.
Yuna’s story haunts my mind then.
Of… of what she saw that first day when she found Lyra. Of the things she’s made me promise to never speak to another soul.
Tretion coughs as her eyes begin to focus, casting about as if suddenly searching. Slowly… slowly her gaze falls on me. Head tendrils twitch, but do not move otherwise.
“A– Awnya?”
“You recognize me!” I try to give her a confident smile, despite my own breaking heart. “Dreamer’s Tits, that's a good sign. Now, the next course. Do you remember your own name?”
“Tretion, granddaughter to the late matron Detlina.” She nods carefully. Sudden worry crossing her face. Her gaze shifts over the splat thing on the wall. “How… How did you get into my manor? Did Lyra let you in?”
I grimace. “Eh… No. I sang to your home that I was a friend here to help and it let me in. Healed the crack in the entryway before coming back here.”
“C– Crack!?!” She looks about then, brow furrowing deeper and deeper as she takes in the room. “Then… Where is Lyra?”
She smacks her dry mouth a few times, head tendrils twitch but… still don’t move. Which worries me.
They were so wiggly and expressive when I met her last. I have no idea how a watcher’s mind works, and can only hope that her connection to them recovers.
Her gaze drifts to Lenelope, a hand raises up and reaches out. The little cute lady scoots forward and takes it without hesitation.
I take a deep breath, and prepare my soul as best I can for the agony that will follow my next words.