CW:

Awnya POVs, Then Lyra POVs. Death and misgendering.

“Dreamer’s Tits” I hiss, trying to will the gate open while maintaining my song of peace to the sleeping woman in my arms. I drop the sack of books again, and end up simply weaving a plea for the manor to just… open up! ... Please?

Hello

It purrs back, and welcomes me home.

I stumble through, sort of… scooting the sack of books alongside me.

“Awnya!?!” A woman rushed into the room at my curses.

“Heya Nelops!” I huff as I end my song, I look up to see my watcher’s oldest companion. “Help me out?”

Dreamer’s Tits, Lenelope’s soul has grown so much in the past four years since I first met her. A product of both Tretion’s studies and devotion to give the loyal woman a life beyond this place, my song workings bringing life to the silence of the manor, and the Amwella dances she’d asked to join us in.

She frowns, both at the woman in my arms and the foot dragging the sack of very old and delicate tomes. “Who is that?”

I wasn’t due to free any slave in Yrentia. Too close to Ukalon’s perch, and there is the problem of the feathers used to mark their slaves. Sensitive soulbound nightmares that are incredibly difficult to remove.

Impossible really… Or… or at least until I perfect the–

“Nufera.” I reply simply, nod back to the books. “Could you take those to the study? I want to get her situated.”

“Um… Awnya?” She steps up to examine the woman in my arms, “What are you doing?”

I grunt, give Nelops a peck on the forehead, then move to walk past her. “Something reckless and probably stupid.”

She catches my shoulder, albeit gently, and I can’t help but smile at… at just how much more she is now! How just a few years ago she was just… less. Less independent and talkative and thoughtful.

How she’s about to scold the blight out of me for breaking my promises to her and Tretion. A thing she just… would never consider in years prior!

A pause, my smile disarming her a bit. Totally by accident but...

“Go ahead.” I whisper, fighting to soften my expression. It really isn’t fair what a loving Fae smile can do to a girl. “Tell me off. I deserve it.”

“I will. But…” She sighs, brushes the girl's hair aside. Then hisses as she sees the feathers.

“Awnya.” She bites, “You… You need to…”

Put her back where I found her? Hope her mistress takes her sudden disappearance well?

No. She’s our responsibility now. And Lenelope knows that.

I wince as she fumes. “I think can get them out.”

Lenelope glares up at me, careful to focus on my forehead or nose to keep her anger hot. “You think?”

Two promises broken. At least. Probably a few I can’t recall.

I nod, force raw confidence into my tone. “I know It’ll work. Just… I’ve fiddled with the blighted song enough.”

An annoyed breath, then she’s drawing out a little pearlescent key and shoving it into my hand. “Shall I inform Tretion? Or will you?”

I look down at the drowsy woman in my arms. “I don’t know if I want her involved right now. Honestly. But… Sure. Do what you think is best, Nelops. I trust you. I’m honestly not thinking straight right now.”

She nods, moves to pick up the books as I look to find a doorway for the key.

* * *

I try waking Nufera to a calming melody, but… She’s sharp, and not easily tricked by soft Fae songs. When she sits up she’s already glancing about in a sort of uncertain confusion. So I let the song fade.

“Hey there, how ya' feelin'?”

She squints at me, “A... Awnya?”

“That’s me!” I give her a moderate smile. Probably still tinted with a bit of weariness at the slow and rough songs I just had to weave, but… so relieved at my success.

Even that only distracts her for a second. Then her eyes are wide, and the fear hits.

She… doesn’t handle it well. Begins to curse and spit in a language I barely recognize, only understand because of my Fae nature’s natural ability to decipher most tongues.

I scoot back and hold both palms out, but… let her get the fury out. Work out that her old life is over now.

“Why!?!” She finally turns a word at me, waits for an answer.

“Because everyone deserves freedom.”

That word it… it sputters her to a stop. Fingers reach up to touch the skin beneath her neck. To the three little bumps marking where the slave feathers once grew from.

“What did you do?” She whispers, eyes go wide. Tears begin to bubble.

“Yeah. I… Look I’m part of a little group that frees–”

Eyes go hot and angry as she screams. “WHAT DID YOU DO!?!”

I wince. “Took them out. Fully. Not… not clipped, not popped free to come back in a few weeks. Gone.”

Her brow furrows. “No that’s… they can’t come out. You’re just… stupid. And your stupidity is going to cost me so much!”

I shake my head. “Can you see souls?”

She sort of… half sobs, then nods.

Such terror is rising in her now.

“Look, and… and we can go from there. Okay?”

She closes her eyes, not… At first I think that’s how she needs to activate whatever magic lets her see souls. But… no. She’s just terrified at what she will see.

A cute little swirly soul, free of the slave feathers' roots.

She breaks into sobs the moment her glimmering eyes open. I move to try and comfort her, hoping to reassure her and–

“Get away from me!” She spits. “How… how could you!?!”

I flinch back, keep palms up. “I… I’m giving you your freedom. Mean to help you find happiness in one of the Rifts we’ve–”

“I was happy!” She shouts. “Brethia is going to… She’s… She won’t take me back now! Or... Or she'll be so angry that... that she'll sell me off to be some pillow slave or...”

She drops her head into her hands, sobs a bit more. I let her.

“Put them back!” She finally shouts after a few minutes. Glares up at me.

“Can’t.” I give her my most charming and disarming smile as I shrug. “It’s done. You’re free. And I’m going to make sure you get such a better life than what she could give you. Okay?”

She holds that anger for a few more heartbeats, then drops back into sobs.

I rise. See that… that I can’t offer her more yet. Need to let her come to terms with this at her own pace. I don’t close the door as I leave, a… a little house rule.

All guests can explore the manor at their leisure. All the dangerous rooms are locked away, but we like to help the newly free see how little we want to limit them before they get their new home.

* * *

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

Tretion and Lenelope await me in our bedroom and study. Quietly talking. I don’t try to catch their words as I plop down onto a random place on the carpet.

A long silence stretches between us.

“I’m so sorry.” I sigh. “What I did was stupid, and reckless and… and I’ve broken more promises to you both than I can even count.”

“Awnya…” Tretion murmurs.

I’m nearly shouting. “It was SO selfish and… and I can’t do that. Not so long as I’m the only one of us who can leave!”

They move closer, but I can’t help but stare down at my hands. Can’t bear to look at my watcher’s face after I risked all of our lives today.

“But the worst part is I can’t say I wouldn’t do it again if I could start the day over!”

Tretion kneels, and wraps my trembling shoulders in her arms. I can’t stop the sobs as her tendrils weave and play with my hair.

“Stop that.” I weakly protest. “You… you need to be mad at me for this!”

“No.” My lover squeezes me tighter, and Nelops soon kneels down to join in the hug.

And for a long time they just… hold on as the storm of sorrows drowns me.

It’s like… like four years of pain just hits me all at once. Like that first night all over. When I laid shivering and shaking and weaving such a song of agony at the realization.

Lyra is gone.

Lyra is dead.

I’ll never… Never get to save her.

Less and less over the years as I’ve gotten more busy… But I still visit those Blighted Woods. My Songs have shifted from pleading wails at their edge to… to gentle things.

Melodies of the life I’ve built with my watcher and how much we’d adore for her to join us. How even now we weep at least once a week as her name touches our lips.

But… My two lovers' arms and murmurs of affection carry me through this.

“She’s so much like her.” I eventually sputter out.

“Nelops told me.” Tretion murmurs.

“I should have come to you first!” I slump deeper. “We could have planned something out or… but… I guess… It’s not that I don’t think you would have helped! I just…”

“You wouldn’t be who you are if you hesitated to give her everything you could.” Lenelope murmurs.

I reach up and squeeze on her the hands that still wrap around me. “I… I was able to get the feathers out.”

Tretion pulls back at that. Fixes me with a hard look of focus as her tendrils wiggle about in worry.

Every year, everyday, they get more alive. More like I remember them back in the Twilight court! And now her soul’s grown its own little mimicking tendrils too!

“The blight song?”

“Yeah…” I raise up clean fingers. “Small and precise, just like you said and I practiced. Just a… a slow weaving starting in the middle. Blight spreads up so that it hits the outer skin at the same time as the deepest roots.”

“That’s…” Tretion huffs, then smiles. Her head tendrils still tremble with a bit of worry though.

“You should have waited for us to watch over you.” Lenelope whispers.

I wince. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right. That could have gone really bad. Infected the manor and such.”

Tretion shakes her head. “Not… Awnya, you’d take care of the rot. I’m worried what would happen to you if you failed. If… if she’d died like the others we tried to remove the feathers from.”

My mouth goes very dry as... as I picture that. See Nufera... then another older face but... imagined dead and rotting and-

“Oh.”

“Yes. Oh. This is also why we stopped trying for a while. Why we agreed to always ask them first. Always. Let them choose what fate they prefer.” Tretion reaches out to hold my cheeks. “I’ll not have my lover bear the burden of watching some surrogate for Lyra die without us there to share that pain.”

I sigh. “Dreamer’s Tits! I just… can’t stop being a stupid goose today. Can I?”

They both smile, pull me into another long hug. Murmuring comforts and refuting my words.

“Where were you thinking about trying to settle her?” Lenelope asks as we pull away.

“No Idea. She…” I sigh, “She’s going to hate me for years. She’d sort of… built up status and trust within her matron’s house. Even…” I glare up at the ceiling. “Dreamer’s Tits. She loves the cunt who grew her feathers.”

“Phretos is good with reluctants.” Lenelope nods thoughtfully. “He’s also more than happy to visit and stay here until they decide on a new home for her.”

Tretion nods. “And he’ll be enough opposite from her mistress that she can more easily keep things from getting muddled in her heart. Even if she enjoys men’s company in bed.”

I pull back and lay on the carpet. “Yeah. I… I’ll also help out if-”

Tretion lays a hand on my hip, “I think you should let Lenelope or Phretos handle her settling, okay?”

I wince. “I… But…” The emotions are all a muddle, and even when tears form I can’t really word my objections. Thankfully Tretion and Lenelope see my soul’s wounds plain.

“She can’t replace her.” Tretion whisper softly as she moves to cup my cheek. “If things go… poorly, it’ll hurt. A lot. Could…”

Her voice trails off, and I glance up to see the fear dance all the way from her eyes up into her tendrils little wriggles.

Could crack my heart enough that... that I might just shatter. Crave an unmaking from the pain of two abused souls to a torment I could not save them from.

I quickly sit up and take her hands. “Honestly, Dreamers Tit’s, Tretion she’s… I just… feel some similarities. Nothing to worry over! But if you’d like me to stay hands off I’ll keep my distance! Only show up for Rift hopping things!”

She lets out a long sigh and turns back to me. “Thank you.”

I take her cheek in my hand, run fingers up into her slowly relaxing tendrils. “Of course! I’ll never risk losing myself. I can’t. Not when my lovers still need me!”

Eight years past the Dreadsong sung

“Say that again.”

The room goes still.

I glance up from my place among Thendra’s Reavers at the sudden quiet that settles over everyone. We’re seated among the other warriors and non-scheming persons, so I didn’t really catch what this newcomer said to upset the lady of the house. It’s sort of… at the center of this big circular room and with rumbling of dumb conversations and nonsense it was only the Duchess’ words that ring out and bring such a silence to the room.

I sigh and begin to turn back to my silent wordless melody hummed to my jellyfish, but… apparently this newcomer is really stupid.

The tall horned lady spreads her hands, “I’ve known you since before you claimed your Spark, I’m allowed to call you whatever I wish.” She has skin of midnight red with a twisting pair of horns similar to the Lady who owns this house’s, but with a similar green flame flickering in annoyance between them.

If the silence was overbearing before, the room is drowned in it now.

A figure who was seated at the head of the short table rises… her eyes fixed on the tall horned lady.

The Duchess Raska is about my size, clothed in sparse strips of black that emphasize her lithe form. Wearing tall boots with various little trinkets and trophies dangling on the sides. Skin a dark shade with winding thrumming blue veins that pulse in time with her heart, hair short and a crown of two tall black horns with various ridges. Between them a little spark of glimmering blue flame.

And her soul… Dreamer’s Tits her Amwella is a huge thing that is nearly bursting from her small frame!!! A blue roaring flame that screams with a siren howling song that just… entrances...

“Then say it again.” Raska purrs, placing a booted foot noisily on the edge of the table.

The tall lady sighs. “If I’m to commit my own flame to this task. We will speak openly and honestly about who and what we are.”

I glance about the room.

Wh… What did she call her?

Why did she…

Raska steps forward, and in a blaze of blue flame she’s Riftwalked within arm’s reach of the much taller lady. “Speak it then, sweet sister. Speak your insult into my home again, among my allies and warriors, and let’s see what happens.”

Okay, so... honestly that sounded more like a simple Shift that a Riftwalk. A jerking of the Dream to pull yourself to a new location. A ton weaker than my own song but...

The tall lady rolls her eyes, “Even now you prove my point! No poise, no grace, just… inelegant rage and a brute’s focus.”

Raska’s blue flame is the only part of her that moves. But Dreamer’s Tits does it writhe and flare in ways that just… scream her rage at every word the taller speaks.

“Our mothers get it, our fellow sparks don’t question it, even the horrid slaver god of Theradas demands respect in this. Even for their lowest enthralled souls.” Raska speaks very softly then, “It speaks poorly of your intelligence that you not only struggle to understand this, but that you openly flaunt your stupidity on the matter.”

The tall lady steps forward, looms over the Duchess. “Is it stupidity? Or are the others just… pitying my little brother’s deluded soul instead of telling him that his flesh shaping will never change who he is?”

Maybe it’s Thendra’s words that do it. Her off-handed comment that while we were guests at Raska’s tables we were also sort of her… sworn guardians. Promised to protect her home, Everflame, and dignity. Or… maybe it’s because I could sense the tall lady’s soul flare up even before those words left her mouth. My two dozen Naranggas’ soul pressure sense understanding on some level that every word out of that cruel mouth is an attempt to goad her little sister into violence.

But… None of those things matter to me right now as I see in this dreamer blighted woman all the humans and Fae that sought to reave me into old horrid shapes.

Words an echo of the human’s who birthed me and tried to kill me.

Called me just a… a stupid broken little bo–

I tear a Rift open to clear the distance to her without needing to move through the line of seated souls between us. My perfected Reaver Riftwalking Screech is a such a quick and quiet thing after these years of forging it, and while my curse insists it’s a song, none have mistaken it for one yet.

Especially when it is growled by one without a tongue.

I’m slamming into the blighted cunt before anyone even knows I’ve moved. A little ugly bolt of fury wrapped from head to toe in leather and chitin, only my eyes can be seen blazing from beneath my cowl. Naranggas erupt into sharpened soul death while talons rake and slice through flesh.

But as we slam down into a table my well-honed instincts are screaming for me to move.

Now!

Another Riftwalk shifts me ten feet back just before that little flicker between her horns erupts into a raging inferno of dream scorching death to engulf the lady’s entire body.

She stands and glares murder at me through the flames as they shrink back to drift angrily between her horns, her own form unburned by the magic. Before she’s even hissing whatever nonsense things command that little flame I’m breathing another shifting melody through my tongueless mouth.

Like a snake her little green flame bites out at the space I just was, swirls into a mass of snapping snarling blazes in sudden confusion at my disappearance.

But I’m already above and behind her, quietly melting all my two dozen or so Naranggas into a single large tendril about the size of a large tree's truck.

WHIP-CRACK SLAM!

Her body bounces off the floor as I land, flaming soul a mushed mess that my enormous tail is more than happy to drink up as her corpse dies.

It…. Oh!

OH DREAMER'S TITS!!!

I slump and hiss as the wretched green Amwella burns and sears on its way through my own core. Fall to one knee as…

Reaver instincts are screaming my end?!?

I glance up to see the dead woman’s green flame roaring toward me, howling a song of anguish and fury at the little thing that killed and is eating its Mistress.

Can’t move, can’t call up my Amwella to sing my escape. Just…. Weakly pull up my big heavy Naranggas and hope it can shield me for the blazing death that approaches.

But in a hiss of more horrid words and a flash of blue flame, the green fire monster is consumed, and by the time I’m peeking past my Naranggas it’s already melted and joined with the Duchess Raska’s Blue Everflame as it whirls and returns to pause between her horns.

Her eyes are a blaze of Cerulean fire. Not like… bright blue eyes either. Literally two twin flames that flicker and poke out a bit from her eye sockets.

And they are both locked on me…

The Reaver who just killed her sister.

I fight to stand. Still reeling from… from this Dreamer Blighted painful feeding and… and trying to not look weak.

Her huge grin shows a perfect set of midnight red fangs, but otherwise she just… stares. Pins me in place with those blazing eyes.

As the… the weird green flame soul dissolves and burns into a more bearable pain to my Amwella to digest I focus on swishing and separating the big unwieldy Naranggas back into a couple dozen thin sharp ones.

“What’s your name, girl?” Duchess Raska finally asks in a soft lilting rasp of a voice. It echoes throughout the deathly quiet chamber.

I take a deep breath, and just… shrug.

That gets a head tilt of curiosity.

“Her name is Lyra, honored Duchess.” Comes the purr of my dark goddess. The room of people all turn their attention to the huge form that is still sitting at the end of the table. “And she is a Reaver of the Thirteen.”

The Duchess doesn’t give her more than a slight body shift of turning to regard Thendra, just… won’t stop focusing on me. Eyes locked with mine. I can’t look away as a warmth starts to gather in my chest.

Begins to roll down my spine and–

STOP IT!

She’s probably… probably going to demand Thendra hurt you. She… she might make you live without a tongue even longer for this!!!

Or… or let her feast on your soul and flesh and–

I shiver and have to look away then as I feel my mind spiral at that. Naranggas whirl about in fearful… but still kinda hornii energy.

“It’s adorable how small she is!” The Duchess puts a finger to her lip. “And Ukalon’s tits and teeth is she a treat to watch slaughter.”

I let my gaze wander back up to her… a sort of… hopeful flutter in my chest that I didn’t just ruin everything by… by…

Why did I do that?

The tall lady’s words replay in my mind, and I… I can’t help but feel such satisfaction at my work. At killing her for… for saying what?

For calling the Duchess a boy.

For implying she was anything but what she... she...

WAIT.

Was… was she born wrong too?

L– Like me!?!

I’m sort of… breathing too fast. As… as the thoughts overwhelm me. Even… even bring some moisture to my eyes.

There are others like me? Who… who didn’t feel right in their own skin and wanted to re-shape it!?!

No…

No, I'm being stupid!!!

I misheard and just–

“Done.” Comes a call from my dark goddess.

I jerk from my spiral and glance between her and Raska. My spiral of thoughts blotted out their words.

“Wonderful.” The duchess purrs, and begins to walk toward me. Eyes alight and even more focused on mine.

Her gaze makes me both want to run away and stay very very still.

She makes a point to step on and over her dead kin’s corpse, and holds out a hand to me. Whispers, “C’mon. I’ll have my new Kujdestar sit close by. Just in case other fools need eating.”

Kujdestar?

What... Dreamer Blighted… What does that even mean!?!

What did Thendra promise me to her as!?!

I carefully raise my arm and allow the duchess to take my talon and lead me around the table to her seat. She plops down motions to a few cushions behind her, then turns back to the gathered table of her closest allies.

Looking past I find jade eyes locked on mine. Thendra’s face is an unreadable mask.

I try to convey all the things.

My worry and confusion and… and apologies through my eyes and my link to her soul.

And also wanting to still hide my… My old wrong body. What I was. I know she feels something. I just… hope she doesn’t see that old shame.

But soon she’s turning to regard the duchess and return to whatever nonsense the odd collection of people at the table are talking about.

The night slithers on, and eventually people start to leave. Bands of warriors from the lower areas rise and follow their matrons or lords out the main doors as the talk has died down to idle chatter about unimportant things.

Eventually even my dark goddess rises, begins to move toward the door without even looking my way.

A flicker and shift of a Riftwalk, and I’m stepping into her path. My confusion and worry and… and shame… and… and all the things laid bare for her on my soul.

She quirks an eyebrow and… and for a horrid second I fear she’s just… sold me away.

Or is at least planning on leaving me in some cruel woman’s care to–

“Grow back your tongue when you wish, My Lyra.” She purrs while placing a calming hand on my shoulder, “But remember the other commands when among her court.”

Do not reveal your Fae nature.

I barely resist the impulse to just… fall to my knees and wail my thanks and joy and… and… This had been one of the longest stretches of silence I’d earned. Nearly 2 whole years after barely a month of words and songs and tasting my dark goddess’ lips and skin before one of her newest Reavers had to ruin it by trying to ambush me in my sleep and drawing in this brood to try and–

“Go. Protect the Duchess and obey her commands.” Thendra interrupts my spiral.

I nod, wipe to make sure no tears actually fell. But… For how long?

Thendra shrugs, understanding my thoughts clearly. “Until our alliance ends.”

Deep breaths. And I’m slipping through a Rift to return to the Duchess’ side. As I plop down she turns her head back. Eyes dancing with… something.

I’m a little worried to consider what…