CW:

Violence Death, talk of self-mutilation and leaving wound unhealed in self-harm, more emotional damage.

Amidst the twisting trees outside the Duke Zrektone’s estate I roll Thendra’s question around in my head.

Over and over and over. For the past two days.

Replayed those old blighted memories a hundred times during my silence.

How did I get to the Dead Dreamer’s Wood after I died?

Once again I am wrapped from head to toe in heavy leather and chitin, but… this time it chaffs and drags against tender unhealed burned flesh.

I didn’t heal them. Not because I can’t but… because I don’t want to. The horrid pain both helps me stay grounded, but… Also will be a constant reminder of what I can never feel again.

Thendra purrs a command, and the other Reavers seated around us rise, ready to attack the estate while she and Bulderii hang back to issue commands and provide support if a stronger foe arrives.

The plan is apparently so simple even an idiot like me can understand it. We’re to draw out as many of his forces as possible, let him stand alone so that the Duchess can riftwalk close and kill him.

I’m barely paying attention as I’m moving forward with the others.

No matter what, I cannot love or be loved by anything in this Dream.

Pleasure and Purpose. That’s it. That’s all I am. All I can have.

All I deserve.

A Reaver snarls, bumps my left shoulder.

On reflex a Naranggas shoots out, wraps around the Reaver’s soul and tears it free. A wash of such wondrous feeding euphoria drowns my thoughts as I slurp up the soul and add her tendril to my cacophony.

The Empty Night… perfect and… and cold and…

I’ve stopped. The warmth of the feeding faded along with the memory drowning my mind.

I jerk up to… to the sound of growls and confused snarls of the other Reavers as they realize what I’ve done.

The… feeding it… it restored the memory!?!

Before I realize what I’m even doing I’m twisting and lunging a dozen more tendrils at the Reavers around me. Tearing and ripping and drinking their horrid blighted souls and adding their cruel tendrils to my own core before they can even blink.

Drifting… drifting… Cold nothingness everywhere. Days and months and eternities of this…

Then, FINALLY something–

I’m snarling in voiceless fury as the memory fades.

Not enough!

I pause for a moment… considering the dead Reavers about me, and the fury my Dark Goddess will have at this slaughter. How she… she bloodied and trained them for this specific task. Needed them.

I can’t stop what must be such a horrid sounding hacking giggle.

What’s Thendra going to do? Take my tongue? Forbid me from regrowing it? I’d not twist that blighted thing back into my mouth even if she demands it.

A shout, and I look up to see dozens of people pouring from the manor. Each armed with either claw or blade or sizzling magics.

And besides… I need more soulfire. Each feeding seems to restore the memories.

Answering the question.

How did I get to the Dead Dreamer’s Wood?

I’m already Riftwalking, barely even noticing the curse’s bite with such a wellspring of Amwella roaring at my core!

A dozen dead in a second, and I’m already back amongst the trees by the time I’m drowning in the feeding euphoria.

More drifting, more cold void. But… but something begins to light up the pitch.

Starlight and… and a thrumming of… something?

So quiet though. I don’t know what–

A bolt of lightning streaks past me, and I look up in glee as I see even more souls pouring from the manor.

A feast of soulfire.

Wailing and screeching, I'm already charging, three dozen Naranggas whirling and furious and so Dreamer Cursed hungry for more!

I lost count years ago of how many souls I’ve consumed. It.. it must be in the hundreds now? But… Other than the Naranggas I absorb when I devour my soul’s never really gotten bigger, just… heavier.

But… not like it is harder to carry just… Ugh it’s hard to explain.

Maybe… maybe it means it’s heavier within the dream? Harder to just pluck free? So few things have even tried.

I don’t even bother riftwalking back to the forest now, just… stop and let my Naranggas whirl about to protect me from any who may approach as the old memory bubbles up to consume my mind.

A song!

So beautiful and warm and… and perfect just… Ringing out among the stars!

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I growl as the memory ends early. Look about to the field to find everyone dead and eaten.

I cast out with my Amwella sight… looking for more souls to eat.

THERE!

Atop the big manor! Honestly… the Duke’s home is more of a… a weird little mountain of piled statues that have apparently been melted together and hollowed out.

But atop this weird manor in the middle of the woods, I sense two wondrous souls of fire blazing and roaring.

I glance up, and tear a rift that’ll leave me about two hundred feet above the manor. Let me get a better view of my next two maybe meals.

A battle of red and blue flames.

The Duchess Raska hisses her own Cerulean Everflame out and against the Duke’s Scarlett inferno.

Despite my sour heart at seeing my former rutting partner again. It’s… interesting to watch them fight. And as I fall I understand why Raska wanted most everyone else distracted.

Her Everflame may be strong, but while commanding it she’s a bit restricted in her movements.

Their contest also seems to be focused on each flame trying to eat the other… two whirling hissing snakes curling and attempting to get the upper hand without pulling too far back and exposing their master to a stray bolt of fire or outside attack.

Hmmm… I wonder…

I just… Riftwalk behind the duke, Naranggas striking out and–

Reaver instincts howl, and I fall back through the same Riftwalk just before an eruption of flame engulfs that spot.

Fast. Really really fast.

I gurgle and growl in frustration as I go back to falling and watching. Let the vertigo of the drop keep me focused and aware as I consider ideas and options.

Hissing and annoyed at just… waiting and watching. Recalling all my lessons with Bulderii and my understanding of the Everflame’s magic…

And every time I’m about to lose sight of the battle, I just Riftwalk back up. And if the momentum begins to move me too fast then I do a quick reversal and have a riftwalk toss me up to kill the speed.

It’s during one of these that the Duchess starts to lose, and the Red Everflame begins to dominate the flashes of magical power on the roof.

I growl and decide to just… hit him as hard as possible. As fast as possible. Don’t give him time to react.

So I twist my body and aim myself at the ground. Tear open another Rift.

Keep falling, keep building speed.

Deep breath, melt my soul and all of my Naranggas into a single large tendril.

It’s heavy. Heavier than anything else I’ve felt in the Dream.

The next rift is at his side, and a soul tendril the thickness of three trees sweeps out and slams into the Duke at the speed of a bolt of lightning.

SNAP-CRACK and his soul is shattered into a mush of nonsense shards and hissing shapes while his body jerks and spirals away.

And then I’m slurping up a boiling mass of soulfire, intoxicated in the pain and pleasure as my body sores across the midnight skies.

The song is all I know… All that matters.

A wonderful siren call amidst the dark and cold.

It swells with love and warmth and life!

Things I… I lost and need to find again!

Then I’m crashing into the trees, spiraling and hissing and spitting as bones and flesh are rent while the Duke’s acidic soul just… boils my Amwella from the inside.

Stops me from thinking or… or healing or–

* * *

Eventually I awaken to an ocean of pain. Body a twisted and horrid mess.

Can’t… can’t breath. Can’t move. The cold gathers, the tendrils of rot reach up to–

“Sing what healing you need.” Comes the purring command of my Dark Goddess. Hand laying itself upon the brand on my flank.

When I can only sort of gurgle my reply the curse stings… Hard.

Harder than ever before.

So I… I force out a tongueless whimpering of song, a little sobbing wail. And slowly my body cracks and twists back into shape. Song and Amwella fire burning hot against the cold and rot.

But not the tongue, not the burns. I mean to keep those fresh and wailing for… I’m not sure. Probably until I forget where I even got them I guess. Till their horrid lessons sing evermore within my soul.

Eventually things have bent and broken themselves back into shapes that let me move, and I’m fighting to sit up to regard my dark goddess who sits before me. Melting my huge nonsense Naranggas back into about… two dozen medium ones.

Still so much smaller than Thendra’s eternity of soulfire tendrils…

A long pause, and… and I suddenly am thinking back on the battle. The… the field of death and misery I wove. The memory I tore from the darkness…

And the Reavers I stole.

Thendra purrs a laugh. “You bear the weight of that oath well, My Lyra.”

I shudder at her unexpected praise, then... can't help but wonder at the memories I recovered, turning the question of them toward my dark goddess.

Did… Can you sense them too?

She rumbles… I think that’s a yes?

An eternity of questions turn about my thoughts then. What is that big cold empty space? It was NOTHING like my beloved Blighted Sea! What… was I… how could my Amwella drift after I died? Shouldn’t it have like… just rotted away? Was that a Fae song I heard calling?

But… before she can answer, there is a crack of broken branches underfoot from behind us, and I turn back to level a glare at Bulderii for interrupting.

“The Duchess calls.” She murmurs.

Sour nonsense ruins the warmth, and Thendra rises. Holds out a huge hand in offering.

I sigh and take the help in rising. But… hesitate when they both begin to move.

Thendra senses it all. My desire to just… stay here. Let them finish whatever agreement they have with Raska and just come back when they’re done.

“Come.”

I glare down at my talons and torn up leathers. Black tips and burnt flesh gleaming against the moonlight. Shame and soured affections and… and her final threat rolls through me as I stare down at my shredded leather armor and the burned skin beneath.

Punishment for thinking I deserve or want more than what Thendra’s given me.

But… my dark goddess commands me to stand at her side. So… I follow.

A ragged band of scavengers and servants scour the ruined battlefield and begin excursions into the manor. But none of that matters as a flash of blue flame signals the arrival of the Duchess through a Rift.

Her flame burns brighter than ever before, no doubt infused with the red flame magic the Duke left unbound after I ate his soul.

I… I can’t meet her gaze, just… stare down at the grass as her and Thendra exchange words.

None of it matters, and for a moment I think that… that maybe she’ll just ignore me. Keep pretending I’m not here and–

“Didn’t need to send her to help me.” Raska eventually growls.

“I only turned her loose on his forces.” Thendra laughs softly. “No commands were given other than to slaughter and feast on our shared foes.”

Raska hisses. “You should have told me she was Fae from the start.”

My dark goddess shrugs. “It was irrelevant, and I’ll not have her nature known to the wider Rifts.”

A long pause, and I feel that blazing gaze roll over my body and soul.

“If not for our oath I would burn you to cinders, Thendra.” She hisses. “Or demand you gift me this Fae so I could melt the skin off her bones for lying to me.”

Thendra tilts her head. “Oh? What did she lie to you about? Honored Duchess? I’ll lay appropriate cruelties upon her flesh and soul if she spoke falsehoods to my ally instead of simply remaining silent.”

Please… My soul begs as I feel my shoulders tremble.

“Bitch claimed she was human! That she was born wrong and that she was taught shapeshifting magics by some adopted mother to re-shape herself. Like some new Fae family hated and abandoned her.”

A flare sparks as she spits a gob of fire onto the grass between us.

Out of the corner of my eye I see such a… a horrible cruel grin spread across my dark goddess’ face.

Just… Stop. Thendra…

“Absolute fucking nonsense.” Raska growls, not… not noticing the amusement on Thendra’s face yet. “To compare herself to me and mine. To… to pretend she…”

Please.

The Duchess trails off, blaze tilting and burning hotter when she does spot my dark goddess’s smirk.

“You best explain what’s so funny, Reaver.” She growls, takes a rolling step forward. “Now.”

Please!!!

“She didn’t lie.” Thendra whispers very softly.

A snap, a crack, and Raska’s flame becomes nothing but a tiny spark. Leaving only her eyes to blaze in the night.

Just leave it!!! Let her think whatever she wants!!!

“What?” She hisses.

THENDRA!

I step over to stand before my dark goddess, my back to Raska. Turning a glare up toward her while my Naranggas twist and writhe.

STOP.

Thendra rolls to bore her eyes down into mine. All of her mirth dead and gone. I don’t need to touch her soul to know what they’re telling me.

Demanding me to… to understand what this is. What she’s doing here.

“That’s… No.” Raska murmurs. “But that would mean that she… that she was human and… and that the Fae gifted her a spark!?! That… That doesn’t fucking happen!!! The other Fae would… that goes against Oaths more ancient than–”

As thoughts begin to spiral and tears begin to bubble, Thendra reaches out to lay a possessive hand on my head. The gentle touch nearly instantly calms my bleeding heart and soul.

“She is everything she told you… and so much more.” Thendra growls. “Such a shame that your hatred of the Fae blinded you to the scars they’ve left on My Lyra. If you’d sought more than simple rutting you might have discovered the wondrous truths within.”

I feel Raska reel from that, as if my dark goddess struck her instead of simply rumbled truths.

Thendra knew from the start how Raska would hate me when she found out I am Fae. And that even now this pain is just… a part of her plans for me.

“That… Lyra, is that true?” She whispers.

So easily did my dark goddess turn the duchess’ cruelty and hatred into a grindstone to temper her tool. To burn away what could have been such a horrid infection within her prize.

I don’t even look back at her, just… lean into my dark goddess’ touch. Wait to just… do as she asks.

“Lyra!”

Thendra slides the hand beneath my hood, begins to… to run fingers through my hair in such a wonderful way. Sends shivers down my spine. Every single touch is an affirmation. She’ll never ever cast me away. Never try to take my songs or form or… or lure me into thinking she could ever love me. Always just so honest about what I am to her.

“LYRA!” Raska shouts. “Look at me!”

I don’t. Just… too lost in the touches of the only other soul I’ll ever need. Intoxicated by the promises her every motion sings of.

“This concludes our alliance, Duchess Raska.” Thendra purrs.

“Lyra I… I need you to look at me.” The Everflame behind me demands. “Look me in the eye and tell me you weren’t lying.”

Thendra turns, and Reaves a Rift open at our side.

And then the air is filled with the perfect scent of the city I didn’t realize I had come to miss so much.

“No.” Raska steps forward, Blaze flaring. “We’re not done h–”

I snap a glare back over my shoulder, finally lock eyes with hers. The duchess flinches, and her features go paler than the moon above as she sees… I’m not sure.

I’ve stopped trying to make sense of my pain. Just… I’ll let Thendra do that for me.

Thendra’s cruel laugh echoes over me. “You’ll not hear her share truths with you ever again.”

“Please, just…” Those cerulean eyes don’t leave mine. “Let’s talk. Without her here. I won’t–”

“That will be quite the challenge.” Thendra mocks, voice full of victory and scorn and hatred. “She’s removed her own tongue.”

Raska’s face twists into one of such… such horror and pain as her eyes dart between us. “What?”

“Silence and safety over the pain your affections have brought her.”

Raska sputters out. Broken by my dark goddess’ words more easily than any blow I could land.

Why did I ever even want to talk when Thendra can just… Pluck the important bits from my soul and weave the perfect words!?!

Just… letting me focus on being the best tool possible.

“Wait! Lyra, I’m–”

But before I catch those final words, we leave this horrid Rift and return to the city of sand and spice.