CW:

Awnya POVs, mention things of VERY rough sex as self-harm (honestly it's basically just abuse Lyra asks for because she thinks she deserves it). soul brand burning. Um.... a girl thinking of her abuser as kind when she's literally the worst.

“So… who has it?” I ask excitedly.

The bubbling anxiety I see wriggling through Tretion’s tendrils finally reaches her lips. “Well… From my records, the only copy of the journal was kept by my grandmother’s estate in Theradas.”

A long pause.

“Ah.” I huff. Fight so hard to not just… scream in despair and fury.

So close. We’re so Dreamer Tit fucking close!!!!

Tretion’s puzzled it out! Just needs the… the resonance or… something. A sort of Amwella pulsing that she thinks acts as a beacon to the rot. Draws the blighted attention of it like moths to a flame.

Smother that, or… or change it? She frowns heavily when I use… like… any of these words. Tries to explain things that she ends up tilting into darker incantation words that just… really kinda hurt to listen to.

But if I get this last thing done, she should be able to walk free of this manor within a few days! A week at most if she needs to play it safe due to the exact things not being easy to parse out.

Three years… three years of being so close. Knowing that… that there were certain groups that held the last puzzle pieces but would either not share it. Or… or we’d rather eat sand than even consider talking with them.

But now she has it! And the light in her eyes only faded as that final bit came out.

“I could…” I reclaim my smile, pull away from the hopelessness. “Old library in Utekii still likes me. Maybe they have a copy? Or… I mean Heldi might have some ideas as to…”

Tretion shakes her head. “This is the only one.”

“You can’t be sure of that. This cunt surly isn’t…”

I trail off as her eyes fall. “No… Awnya this really is… I wish that…”

Oh… She wouldn’t have even mentioned this if she thought it wasn’t our only option.

“Okay. Well… We know who claimed that library and loves books.” I touch her hand. “And… I’m on neutral terms with her. I can pop over, make a trade for it. Dreamer’s Tits if you can tell me what to look for I’ll just take some paper and write it down.”

Her head tendrils writhe. “I know… it’s just…”

This will require me to return to the city we know is waiting for me, and three years is not near enough time for one of those blighted gods to forget about the Fae who stole from them.

“Okay then! I’m going in talons out!” I put on my most disarming smirk. “They already know my face and name. So… I’m bringing my songs out in full force. Stealth, healing, Riftwalking, the full basket of tricks. Still have a charge in that anklet for a quick Shift too. Will keep the ring on hand. And…”

Tretion is nodding, but… is also avoiding my gaze. Not in shame. She just… knows what I’m doing. Trying to calm her with my Fae nonsense.

“Mask would be…” she murmurs.

“Redundant, yeah.” I snap my fingers. “My thoughts exactly. That thing’s more my face to these slavers as this gorgeous working.”

She can’t help but smile, tendrils dip in agreement as she glances at my face.

“And… um…” Her voice drops low, barely a whisper. “You are taking the stave.”

I freeze, cold sweat touching my spine. “I… eh… Tretion I’m not sure I would even know how to use that thing.”

“It’s as simple as your blade.” She glances over to the chest she keeps the thing in. “More so, even. It wants to be used.”

Even from here the thing seems to… to growl a song of hungry annoyance from the trunk where she stores it.

I rub the back of my neck. “Look… I’m not going to use it, and… it’ll just weigh me down and distract me with its really gross song.”

She fixes me with a hard look. “Either you will take every advantage, or I won’t consent to this outing.”

I wince. “Tretion… That's... you can't mean-”

“No. Awnya. I hate this. I despise how we must go begging to that monster for scraps of my dead family's treasures. I have fought and clawed and torn my way to this over the past decade without needing to work with anyone I do not either respect or love dearly.” She growls then. Tendrils writhing is such fury. “But this is it. This final thing could only be found by a watcher who probably spent twice my years fumbling about. My kind’s Amwella sight is without compare and Ovellen was obsessed with Fae Lore on the Dead Dreamer and the nature of the soul. I was lucky beyond belief that I even stumbled across this catalog that mentioned her works being kept in my wretched grandmother's library.”

I nod, hating how… how she’s right to want this. Justified in demanding I take her creation and be ready to use it to...

“And… I’m so sorry, Awnya.” She steps around the desk to take my face in her hands. Not to… not to pull me to look at her. But to just… hold me while she sees the storm this causes. “I’m sorry that I cannot go myself. Blighted slaving gods aside, I’m… I’m furious that you have to see that horrible woman again. Might have to tell her what happened to Lyra to even have a chance at getting this tome.”

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We’re both crying a bit. Even now.

Even after over a decade just the mention of her name still hurts.

“So I will have you entering that city wielding a weapon that can and will shred anyone who would steal you from me.” She growls. “Because if you do this, you will never walk the Rifts alone again.”

That… cracks something in me. The sudden very real future where I will never have to say goodbye to my lovers again. That… that I can gift Tretion everything in the Rifts and beyond.

So I let her take my hand, lead me to the chest, and show me how to use and control the blighted staff of Soul Shredding she created.

* * *

I lay broken and gasping for air at the edge of our bed. Body just a… a mess of twisted bleeding flesh and horribly shattered bones.

It’s nothing new. Sometimes Thendra just… No.

Sometimes I’M just too weak and too stupid to handle evenings like this. The pain I cry out for a ocean that just… smothers the pleasure she gives me.

But my Dark Goddess kneels at the side of the bed. One arm resting upon a mangled arm while the other weaves nonsense patterns through my hair. She always avoids any head wounds, save the occasional lip biting, so these gentle affections are a perfect beacon to keep me grounded as I just… bask in her. Only a single Naranggas strong enough to reach out and lay upon her soul.

Letting all this wonderful pain still all these wretched thoughts and desires. Slaughter all memory of anything and everything that isn’t the storm I feel raging within her.

At least for this little while...

And Dreamer’s Tits is she just… perfect. Waiting so patiently for me to… to pull from my stupor before demanding I heal. Watching my horrid little soul and Naranggas boil beneath the pain before even considering demanding that I restore my body and–

“A Fae stands at the entrance.” One of Thendra’s Reavers calls from the door.

I gurgle out a growl. Both considering making this stupid cunt my next meal, and at the possible promise her words tickle my mind with. The thought of getting to devour another warm Fae soul and… and how it might even restore more of that stubborn memory!

But… My Dark Goddess stills her hand on my head, a signal for me to not do that. Then she purrs without ever pulling her gorgeous jade eyes from me. “Her name?”

The Reaver shakes her head. “A name was not spoken.”

A pause, and Thendra lets out an annoyed sigh that she would not even ask for this Fae’s name.

Reavers are so stupid when she births them from that weird pool of eck, and like… even with years of work they just… Dreamer’s Tits it takes such a long time for them to really start thinking well. And with Bulderii gone these past weeks… There’s one less person to teach them how to be people.

“I’ll attend to them shortly.” My Dark Goddess Purrs. “My Lyra, Sing what healing you need.”

A gurgle and pop of annoyance bubbles up from my soul through my lips, and my body is twisting itself back into old shapes. It takes a bit, and by the time I’m able to sit up, the Reaver is gone and Thendra stands by the desk.

I glare down at my talons. Old horrid memories of… of the Fae Wood and the weird paralyzing flower and… and of another’s father who I… I unwove and how his daughter must hate me so much...

Can I please stay here? I thrum in quietly from my soul to Thendra.

A pause.

“Of course.”

I can’t help but tremble a bit as I radiate grateful energy tinted with shame. How I just… just can’t stop messing things up. How if even one Fae saw and recognized me they might–

“Wear your armor, just in case.” She interrupts the spiral of pained anxiety with a chuckle.

That helps me relax, and I can’t help but dart across the room and pull My Dark Goddess in a warm spiced hug. Practically begging for the hand she spares to run a few gentle patterns through my hair. Just… a silent reminder of her promises. How… how she’ll never risk losing me or causing me useless agonies.

Then she lets out a soft yet firm thrum of command, and I know I need to stop being stupid and weak and let go. Then she’s gone, and now I sit alone at the foot of the bed. Just… staring up at the ceiling. Trying to empty my stupid head of all the stupid thoughts that might cause me more useless pain.

* * *

“Get Thendra.” I had spat at the gathering of Reavers in the main area.

Same group as the one from the last time I was in Theradas, and at least a few of them seem to remember me. Stop others from just… growling and pouncing.

Lucky for them. This time I’ll not hesitate to whistle a song to make them regret it.

And then the cunt herself is coming down the stairs, a grin on her lips as her horrid jade eyes meet mine. “Awnya of the Fae.”

“Thendra.” I glare.

A pause, then she purrs. “I apologize for the… misunderstanding at the festival.”

“I’m not here about that.”

That… I do see a flash of… is that anticipation?

I grip the stave tighter, gather Amwella up… just in case. I’d counted on our truce keeping her civil. But… What if she’s broken that oath to give me over to the gods who hunt me?

“Regardless…" She nods, eyes locked hard on mine. "I extend to you all manner of hospitality while you're in my home.”

She… wait. Why does she… She’s waiting for me to pounce!?! Not expecting to strike the first blow?

Okay. Fine. Good even.

I drop my bubbling of Amwella, relax a touch. “I accept, but… plan on this being a short visit.”

Her head tilts.

I let out a sigh. Think of my watcher, and… and the life we can lead once I’m finished here. How I can leave and NEVER have to see this cunt ever again. “I’m here for a book. A thick tome you would have recovered from the watcher’s library. Or information on where it might be.”

A pause, a very brief look of curious surprise, then that horrid grin again. “And what do you offer in trade?”

“Information.” I fight to keep my tone as steady as possible. “I… I found her. I tracked Lyra down. And am willing to tell you what happened to her.”

Her face goes… rigid. Grin falls away. Jade eyes bore into me. “Which tome do you seek?”

“It’s a journal, written by a watcher named Ovellen.” I supply.

“Hm… One of a kind.” She murmurs.

“So is my information. No one else can tell you what I know.” I shrug. “And from what I’ve been told this book is not very applicable to most. Mostly years of recordings and observations by a watcher slowly losing her mind. No spells, no Incantations, no blueprints.”

A long pause, and I’m worried I’m about to need to offer her… like… more. But then she surprises me.

She laughs. And it’s such a horrid thing of real mirth. Deep and sharp and… and It makes literally everyone in the room jerk and step from her in fear.

“I’ll accept your offer, but only if you’ll share a meal with me as you relay this story.” She purrs as her humor fades.

* * *

Thendra returns soon enough with such a… a grin on her face. And for a second I am caught between fear and hunger and… and a dozen other conflicting emotions before she pulls a book from her desk and turns to regard me.

I tilt my head in confusion.

“They only wish to trade for a book.” She smirks, “A prize from the Matron’s estate.”

I sag in relief. Good, They… they don’t know I’m here.

A spark, a crackle of pain, and the room about me is lost to… to such a weird sensation. One that roils from deep within my soul.

The branded curse of the Old Road thrumming in fury.

I curl around myself, not because the pain is somehow unbearable, but… honestly just because I don’t know what this means! How… but… It’s only supposed to get angry when I’m bound! What–

Then Thendra’s kneeling before me, face a mask of blank consideration as her Jade eyes gaze into my soul. Easily spotting the source of my pain.

She growls in annoyance, “A Boon comes due.”

I jerk to stare up at her.

B– But… that… you mean…

“Furthonois calls.”

I wince but… nod. Rise up and move to finish getting dressed.

I’ll Riftwalk through the window, avoid the stupid Fae that thought to come get a book from Thendra, and go to them.

There are no words needed once we both arrive at the stairwell's inner turn, just… a backwards glance to my Dark Goddess as I leap forth and Reave this wretched Dream apart. Landing in a crouch within the Temple of the god of slaves and slavers.

Immediately, without preamble and in a single graceful motion I have no hope of reacting to, Furthonois is swooping down to grip my lower jaw and neck in one of their big hands. Not… it’s not something that hurts just… is meant to convey…

“Little Fae,” Comes one of their deeper voices as their form shifts a bit. Seems to… to flex and writhe. Grows stronger and more… predator like, and I know that I am speaking to a piece of them that does not regard me with anything soft or kind. “It’s time to claim a boon owed.”

I let out a sort of… gurgle of acknowledgement. Cold sweat on my spine telling me that this is not a Furthonois to upset. The brand at my core sizzles and twists. Doesn’t… doesn’t burn but… but seems to react and wiggle to the big godthing's words.

I’ve performed every single task they paid Thendra for me to do. Would… well I doubt Thendra would hesitate to sell my flesh to them for a night of pleasure so long as they promised to not kill or damage me too much. So… What else do I have to offer? Why demand this valuable Boon be redeemed now!?!

They growl, jaw seems to twist and writhe. Separates at the bottom as a few extra tongues sprout forth. Teeth twist from sort of… mildly sharp things into razors that seem to drip venom.

“There is another Fae in my city.” They hiss, their voice a rolling thing that hums with power as they lean closer. “Bring it to me. Alive. Body and soul as unspoiled as possible. No curses. Now. Tonight. Before it leaves. This is the Boon you will offer me.”

I choke, then… then sort of… grin at the demand as my Naranggas twist and curl in anticipation.

I’ve not tasted a Fae soul in so long and… What if eating one could restore more of that memory? I growl in annoyance. Just… just not this one, this one is for Furthonois. Will need to find another Fae to test that out on someday…

But for now…

I know exactly where this stupid Dreamer Blighted Cunt of a Fae is…