CW:

Mutilation of the MC that she has to maintain. Mention of sex used as self-harm (not stated but HEAVILY implied), Awnya POVs

Four years past the Dreadsong sung

“You can stay here as long as you like!” I shrug as Lenelope and I step back and just let the two men gawk openly at the room. “In a couple days if you're comfortable we can talk about a new home for you both.”

The two men turn back, tears and such wander glimmering in their eyes. Tretion moves past us, escorting a trio of smaller women to the next room over.

Lenelope steps forward and holds out a key for them. “This is the key to your room. It’ll also bring you back to this hallway.”

One of the two graceful panther-like beings steps forward and takes the key, tail swishing about in worry and confusion. “Wh– Why did you do this? Why free us and… and bring us here?”

I smirk and shrug. “Shouldn’t need a reason to help people claim some happiness and freedom.”

It’s… well it’s not a lie. But… I’d rather not start tearing up every time I get asked that.

I do this for the woman I couldn't save.

How It’s all I can do to atone for my failures beyond my constant monthly visits to a cursed wood at the edge of the Dream to plead with her spirit to return to us.

Once this batch of newly freed souls are given rooms, food, and settled in, I head to the main chambers.

My lover is slumping into her chair, a sort of… tired satisfied look to her posture as I shut the door.

This was a big group that we’d put months of planning into organizing to get them free and clear. And finally, we were at the final steps. We’d let them rest and recover here for a few days, a week at most, and then move them to the quiet little rift to resettle when they're ready.

No words are spoken as I move over to stand behind her, begin to curl fingers through her mane of wiggly tendrils. At my touches they fight to raise up and meet my hands as best they can.

I can’t help but smirk at how much progress we’ve made with them over the past four years.

Once I began to notice the little nubs poking out from her new soul It was easy to understand what was missing. So… with song and a little help from the manor, we’ve been coaxing feelings and motion back into them. But… soul growth and healing is slow and hard and… not really a straight path, especially when there are a couple dozen independent appendages.

Humming while I massage and play with them, I can't help but reward each one with little nibbling kisses when they are able to raise up to almost full height.

Tretion shudders at the sensation, stammers out. “Still… Clumsy. Need to practice more.”

“Hey, I’ve spent most of my life relying on my songs to get things done.” I snort and let my little song fade. “It’ll probably take me another decade to get used to using all the magic trinkets you send me off with.”

Tretion huffs, that wasn’t what she meant. But…

No Fae songs anymore, not while I was out and under my mask. When I’m walking the rifts and freeing souls I can rely only on my wits and tools. My lover had insisted this when we explored the vault and all the old magical nonsense her family had kept there.

A spell slinger freeing slaves? An annoyance.

But a lone Fae? A very tempting target for some horrific monsters, and even a gentle song in a crowd could expose my nature.

She swirls her chair and turns to face me. I keep my hands amongst her mane, can’t suppress my grin as they wiggle and dance in response to her sudden mood shift.

“That’s… No Awnya you’re–” Her face scrunches, but she can’t help but embrace the smile I’ve infected her with. “You’re teasing me.”

“Just a bit.” I shrug, squeezing and pulling a cluster of tendrils in a rippling motion. She sort of… sputters out for a second, eyes fluttering shut at the rush of sensation I know I just hit her with. “Are you complaining?”

She can only offer me a soft little moan. Which I take to mean, Dreamers Tit’s no!

I can’t stop the rush of warmth that sings through my soul and bubbles up to my lips. And over the next minute I get to watch my lover melt under the weight of my attention.

“S’not fair.” She whispers out between increasingly heavy breaths. “How… how easy it is for you to… to get me like this now.”

“Like what?” I murmur into the harmony I weave about us. “Where do you think I’m heading with this?”

She tries to growl, but it’s simply a delightful little sound that I work into our song.

“Bed please.” She huffs out, “I… I don’t want us to… to ruin anything on the desk again.”

And with song and gentle workings, I pull Tretion across the room, pin her amidst silken sheets, and draw her into a furious dancing of our souls and bodies.

By the end we’re both panting songless messes. I’d taken our last bout and hover over her now. Get to just… hum my affections for my watcher.

She’s just… So perfect. All soft flawless scales and wriggly head tendrils. Eyes like a smoldering fire that contrast so well to her glacially tinted soul.

“You need to avoid Grugelous for a while.” She sighs out eventually.

I smirk and place a few quick pecks down across her wriggling tendrils. “Why’s that?”

“The batch you saved had a few markings, brands tying them to one of the three.”

“Ah… Dreamer’s Tits.”

One of the three blighted gods that trafficked in slaves. The Fae as a whole maintained a steady non-aggression pact with them.

I huff. “Like… loaned out or…”

“No. Bought or gifted. But… it means the slavers might have connections.”

“Oh good.” I sigh in relief, but also anger. “Because I have sixteen more to–”

Tretion fixes me with a hard look, reaches up to take my cheek in her hands. “No.”

I purse my lips, but nod. Dedicated to our agreement for the past four years.

Keep myself safe, above all others. Because if I get caught or… or fade. Not only will no others be rescued, but Tretion and whoever I’ve left here will be stuck in the manor. And… and while their food stores are good, they will only last about a decade at most.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

I drop down to cuddle into her side. “Okay. So… Where to next?”

“A little rift called Friktikia,” She sighs. “It’s a bit like Theradas in that people only live in one big city these days. But… it’s slave trade is soft and tame compared to the other Rifts you’ve worked in.”

I sigh, flinching a bit internally at the mention of the blighted city she’s comparing it to. “Alright.”

A pause. “I um… Also have some old connections there. Would request you meet with them and attempt to… um…”

I turn up to eye her.

“I’m making good progress on my soul research, and…” Her tendrils wriggle in annoyance. “I picked this place for selfish reasons. It will have resources I can use.”

I suppress a laugh, knowing how it might convey the wrong message. Only smile in joy. “Really!?! That’s not selfish, Tretion. Your logic is sound, and honestly… your life needs to come first too.”

That makes her jerk, looking down to me with glistening eyes. “Wh– What?”

“I’m kinda a stupid goose sometimes. Am used to just… throwing myself at a problem with everything I am. You keep me smart, Tretion. And… and I really do love you. Kinda want to spend the rest of the dream at your side. If you’ll have me. And… that means I want to take you places beyond these halls.”

Her face wrinkles in such a mess of pain and joy and… and love. I know that my words echo another’s.

But… I can’t not let her hear them!

Need to let this wonderful soul know that she is worth more to me than all others.

“And besides! That’s really exciting!” I add while kissing the side of her breast. “I kinda wish you had sent me there sooner. I will always be willing to stop if it means helping my lover.”

“You won’t be stopping, just… slowing down for a few months.” She curls onto her side to face me. “Meeting some old contacts and hopefully getting the chance to actually enjoy one of the Rifts you flit about in.”

I look away, need to… to focus or that’ll send me into a bit of a sobbing fit. “I… I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy walking the Rifts alone.”

She winces. Both in a sort of well healed guilt over her own forced hermitage here, but also because she knows the one I always walked them with.

Sees the memories of my dad that I shared in song and soft spoken story flashing behind my eyes.

“Then… let’s try to fix that." She takes my face in her hand and pulls my forehead to hers. "Get my soul stabilized so I can be out there helping you!”

* * *

Bulderii gets a hand around my throat, drags me off her, and slams us down into the hard stone floor. This breaks my lower spine in two places.

This odd house within this Rift of half-burned jungles and melted stone structures has been a good enough home. I still miss the spiced scent of Theradas but... Thendra's not taken us back there for years. Knowing that it'll be the one of first place the Blighted Fae will check when they come looking and... and that wonderfully horrid Golden-Amber eyed girl would no doubt be the first to visit.

And while I would relish the chance to consume more of their wonderfully warm soulflame, I... I don't think I could survive seeing Awnya again.

I can't hurt her if she wanted to drag me away to pay for my wretched nature and killing of her father. But... I wouldn't let Thendra hurt her either. So... What would that leave?

Nothing but more agony and despair, which is no doubt why she took us away to dwell in other Rifts. Places the Fae wouldn't think to look and basically avoid.

Naranggas go slack and fall away from Bulderii's core at the sudden shock and writhing pain.

My wellspring of Amwella flares up immediately to try to repair the damage. But… she doesn’t reduce the pressure on my throat. So all I can do is gag and gurgle while my body goes numb. Can’t even grab at her wrist to try and–

She growls in such fury, eyes blazing. “Why!?!”

I give her the best glare I can as my soulfire twists and burns to keep my body alive.

She squeezes tighter, then pulls back the pressure enough to let me take in a wheezing gasp as bones and muscles pop back into place.

The only remaining three Reavers from the clutch Thendra spawned four years ago mill around us. Would probably be as angry as Bulderii… but… they saw what I did to the others.

How quickly and easily I can gift them a very painful death.

My Naranggas start to twist again, begin to slither and wind toward this blighted woman’s core to–

Three quick jabs with a tendril half their size directly into my own soul, a flash of pain, and I’m helpless again. She offers only a silent demand for an answer, and threats of worse if I do not give it.

“Keeping Promises.” I hiss. Spine popping back into place and rewarding me with more pain as feeling in my toes slowly return.

Her brow furrows. And then a ripping sound cuts through the silence, and I can’t help but grimace as I recognise the thrum of my dark goddesses' arrival through a Rift. Called to us by the sudden distress she felt echoing through the souls of her Reaver.

A pause, then she sighs out a thrum of annoyance as she no doubt sees my work.

Six Reavers, slumped and twisted. Bodies vessels of gorgeous and colorful decay and rot, soulfire torn and already gone from the Dream. A feast for my jellyfish, now safe and snuggled back into my Amwella.

I told you this would happen! I can’t help but radiate rage within my own soul. Warned that if one of these Dreamer Blighted Reavers touched me that I would EAT THEM!!!

She feels that fury bubbling from my soul so I don’t even need to speak up to defend my song weaving. And… I know better than to try and force her thoughts on this with words… So I wait. Fight down flashes of all the torments and punishments she could leverage at me.

A feast of Reavers, tearing at flesh and bone and soul to force me to heal, maybe… maybe worse things still I haven't even thought of. I’d… mostly avoided anything bad since we left Theradas all those years ago.

And… I mean… I can’t really count violent sex as a punishment. Even if some feedings tipped more into pain. I asked for that often enough. Loved to balance on that razor's edge of never quite knowing how far I could go before the pain cracked my desires and left me a puddle of weeping nonsense. But… Why do you even care!?! You can just make more! And I know it costs Amwella, sure… but you can just take that from me!

She growls in reply to my soul's questions. “New Reavers will not be bloodied enough for the tasks I would send them on, and it will take years to drive some intelligence back into their skulls.”

“Promises… Kept!” I repeat aloud.

A thrum of… something. It’s angry, but… there is another thing it shrouds. Not joy… but… Inspiration?

“Oaths come with costs.” Bulderii shakes her head and growls. “Either honored or broken.”

That… makes me stop. I go a bit slack, let… let my body settle and Amwella focus on burning away my injuries.

“I’ll pay it.” I whisper softly.

An annoyed purr. Then, Bulderii releases me. Steps back with an oddly blank expression.

Thendra moves into view, kneeling as I fight to get my elbows beneath me while I slowly get feeling back into my useless legs.

“The curse’s hold on you has waned,” She… she doesn’t seem angry at that. Just… contemplative. Just stating something we both know.

"I thought you wanted me to sing certain songs without you. Riftwalking and Blights and... other things." I huff and look away.

She nods and purrs. “I will have your voice, a half year of wordlessness from you as punishment for this indulgence.”

“I… What?” I jerk back to stare at her.

“One month for each Reaver you’ve stolen.”

“O… kay?” I think on that. Consider… I mean that doesn’t sound too bad. Annoying, sure.

But… Then a horrid thought hits me. “Like… Another curse? You want me to curse myself. Again? But... then how will I-”

“No.” Thendra fixes those perfect jade eyes on mine. “I will cut your tongue out.”

I jolt to a stop, beyond words. Not from the horrifying nature of her demand. Not because I know that she can sense my fear. Not even because healed and perfect I couldn’t escape her, and would have no were but those Dreamer Blighted Cursed woods to return to now.

But… because I see in those eyes the storm, and how even now my actions just… fall into its workings. This isn’t anger, and… and even her annoyance was a fleeting twisting of lightning. Already passed and leaving only her plans and how I fall into them.

I just… Stare at her for a time. Eyes wide and heart thundering as I feel my mind and soul just... watched and seen so perfectly by those enthralling jade eyes. My every stupid thought a simple thing to be measured and considered by the monster I sold myself to.

Thendra doesn’t rush me. My dark goddess even let’s my spine heal enough for me to sit up and think on this cost.

She… she must also expect me to keep it from healing back!!! I nearly start sobbing at the horrid thought. Seal the wound closed until she allows me my words again…

Then she holds out a hand. Cupped perfectly for… for… me to rest my chin on it so she can… can…

I do choke on a sob of… of such fear and sorrow and… Shame. Such bubbling of guilt at just how stupid and broken I am. And... and how this one person I've trusted with my everything sees that all so completely and-

But before I spiral deeper, a single tendril of hers reaches for one of my Naranggas, picks the limp quivering thing up, and lays it across her core.

Then there is only the Storm of her will and soul.

And within it I see… I see…

Pride? Satisfaction!?! Not even the smallest hint of disappointment, rage, or annoyance.

Just… An opportunity to sharpen this tool into the talon she desires me to be. That without words my Fae songs will no longer be restrained by those blighted peoples' tongue, but my own will alone. That all my pain and shame and fury will form their foundations and weave them into even stronger workings unshackled by the need for specific words.

Trembling and already sobbing, I lean forward and lay my chin on her enormous hand. unable to close my eyes as I drown in her soul's perfect song.

Then I take a deep breath, and open my mouth.

Offer her the tongue.

Her other hand crackles with energy, then makes a single deft motion too quick for me to follow, and I see the length of wet flesh in her hand.

A pause… and for a moment I wonder if I’m supposed to be feeling–

PAIN!!! Furious and hot and choking and horrid and–

She’s already tossed away the old dead flesh and is pulling me close. Cradling my head as I dissolve into gagging sobs. Gives me a command to hum a wordless song to dull my pain and seal the wound closed as her other hand weaves comforting patterns over the brand on my flank.

The song is just... so hard to sing! But... it works! Even um... well it feels more... alive. Stronger and rippling harder through my body and Dream! Naranggas darting up to wrap around and around her core as I obey my dark goddess. Drink in the storm and… and use its pitiless focus to break my sorrows apart. Reforge what others would discard as useless pain into the grindstone that can reshape my weakness into a thing she can use.

* * *

Maybe it’s the mood that comes along with a day of good things that made me notice her and react with such mindless abandon for my promises.

First, I’d settled the last group nicely into an old Rift. One that’d taken to preparing homes and life for future groups without us even needing to ask for help.

Second, breakfast was good back in the manor. Nelops had been teaching the old house’s bubbles to cook and Dreamer’s Tits was it just… way too good at things when we coaxed it into trying!

Third, I’d found every single book on Tretion’s list. Alongside the weird contraption the author had made! Neither of us actually expected anyone else to study the nature of soul preservation to the extent of actually building a resonance cage, and my watcher would be even more impressed than I.

Since… she actually understood this nonsense.

But now I’m frozen, staring through the crowd. Black hair, mousey demeanor, loose attire that shows off more leg and hip than is practical in the cool breeze. Then I’m shoving through, her name caught on my lips, tears bubbling in my eyes as I touch her arm and–

She jerks a bit and turns, eyes wide with fear.

And… Ugh.

Just... Dreamer’s Tits she doesn’t even look like Lyra from the front!

Not… okay maybe a touch but… like… Not enough for me to react like this.

“Oh, Dreamer’s…” I stutter and step back, pulling up the mask I’d chosen for today’s errands and settling it atop my hair. Hold palms out in a sign of peace. “I’m really sorry! I thought you were someone else.”

Build is all wrong too. More comfortable weight than Lyra ever put on. Hair is also shorter and a lighter shade. Eyes are just… a dull brown as opposed to her shimmering violet wonders.

“Oh! Um…” Her eyes dance over me, cheeks flush a bit as her fear drains away. “That’s… that’s alright.”

But… she could have still looked like this after eight happy years without needling her Fae form back to old shapes…

I adjust the bag on my shoulder, let a smirk rise up. “Just… got excited. I just didn’t expect to find someone who reminded me of her.”

Especially not strutting through the streets of Yrentia.

“It’s fine, really! She… She must have been really important to you.” She struggles a bit with her own load of bags, fighting to pull her eyes free of my Fae gaze. Reaches up to awkwardly brush her hair aside and…

And I almost choke on the sight.

Three feathers, just under her left ear.

“I… I’m Nufera.” She displays them proudly. “Of Brethia’s house.” She finishes with a broken smile.

Two purple, one a deep green. A coveted pillow slave and manager of others in her owner's house. And… and from their length. She must have had them growing for years. Almost two decades.

Had them since she was barely a woman feeling her first sparks of Amwella!

“Ah.” I frown in such a loud way.

The same Dreamer Blighted smile that Lyra had when she’d think of the cunt who hurt her.

She seems to flinch as a worry visibly overtakes her.

Within a whirling mass of past mistakes and furious focus, my decision is made for me. And I’m already humming this slave a song to herald her freedom.