CW:

talk of scars, scary magic. depressing thinking. mild talk of addiction twisting mind and soul.

I can barely keep my song steady as I stare out over the dozens and dozens of corpses littered about the room. The temple of this godthing lays silent, none left alive. Hundreds dead, their souls devoured. And the body of Furthonois lies broken in the center, impaled by Lyra’s old sword.

She… She did it?

I don’t end my song of stealth. Just… work to ignore the bodies as I approach the cleared space around the fallen godthing.

Searching…. Searching… for any trace of song to tell me where she might have…

There! It’s… Oh Dreamer’s Tit’s it faint and fading but… Yeah. That’s her Riftwalk. Will never forget her twisted way of rending the Dream after a night of chasing me through them.

It’s… Huh. Way easier to track if you know the melody to search for. Honestly kinda feels a bit blighted which… Such a small thing will be smothered soon by even this horrid Rifts natural warmth. So I best move fast!

A quick song, and I weave my own whistling melody and Rift to wherever she went. Dagger and staff raised just in case some cunt tries to jump me. Hoping that this doesn’t just take me back to the Blighted Cunt’s manor…

Immediately I’m overwhelmed by the wonderful lilting of subtle Fae songs and… Wait!

A simple hut at the far edges of the Fae Wood. Very near to my own little stowaway home. This is… is this Yuna’s old grove? She… Oh Dreamer’s Tits! Lyra tried to find her mom!?!

But… Yuna’s been away for years now. Took Usete to settle with a couple daughters in the Morning Court. Trying to stay away from the elders and their pestering nonsense. Especially when I told her that Lyra had been swept away into the Blighted sea after she thought her lover was dead.

“Lyra!” I shout as loudly as possible as I dart forward and enter the home. Call out a few more times as I dart through the rooms. Searching for any sign of my lover or her songs.

Nothing.

I pause, then slowly retrace my steps and begin listening for another of her Riftwalking songs.

There!

Another scar. Right atop the other. Almost missed it.

Weaving a song from the fading rift, I draw myself forward. And almost trip over a woman kneeling right at the Rift’s opening. She’s about Lyra’s height, wearing only a few swirling pieces of dark cloth, and a pair of twin horns with a little blue spark flitting about between them.

But… oh Dreamer’s Tits those are pretty eyes. Not just like… a neat blue but literally twin blazing sparks wiggling out from her face!

“Sorry!” I instantly yelp as I stumble around her. “Just eh… passing through and…”

Looks to be the entryway of a big nice manor. No Riftwards, which explains our easy entry into someone's home.

The fire woman jerks and stands, hissing ugly words that seem to jolt her little flame into movement.

“Woah woah!” I raise the staff a bit but keep the blade lowered. “Just… Let’s take it easy! Didn’t mean to barge in. I’m eh… just following a wounded lover.”

That jerks her to a sudden stop. “Lover?”

Her soft voice has a bit of a rasp to it, like she’s eaten a bit of that flame flitting about. Which… I mean from the way her eyes are that doesn’t seem too far fetched.

Oh well, to each their own! Better than eating flesh and soul!

I give her my most charming smirk. “Yeah… About your size, shortish dark hair, really pretty violet eyes?”

Her gaze flares a bit as she looks me up and down. “Her name?”

“Eh… Lyra.”

Her expression remains hostile. Almost… like she’s fighting some anger? “You just missed her.”

I… Do not have time for this. Need to just… Rift out and avoid whatever nonsense this spitfire of a girl is nibbling at.

“Wonderful! I can track her, um… step back and let me just… gonna hum a bit to–”

But she doesn’t move, just… glares openly. “You’re Fae.”

Still don’t have time for this!

“Yup,” I let my easy smirk go… well fairly snakelike I think. Never really looked at myself when I’m this Dreamer Blighted upset. “Now back off and let me help her.”

That makes her jolt for a second, sort of… consider my words. Then she sighs. “Alright, but I’m coming with you.”

“Huh?” I tilt my head, letting the grin turn back to one of calm focus. “Why?”

“Because I…” She growls, then huffs a good chunk of the anger out. “Lyra and I have history. And… and I owe her.”

I step up and begin humming the fading Rift into a song, and after it starts crackling to life I turn back to her. “What was she to you?”

She grinds her teeth as that little flame moves back to sit between her horns. “Past lover. I fucked it up and… and she still saved my life. So I want to try and help her if I can.”

That… huh. Okay. Definitely a bit of spitfire, but… she’s not lying. Seems genuinely concerned for Lyra and I could really use an ally if I bump into Thendra.

I nod. “Fine. But honestly I’ve had a rough night and won’t hesitate to drop you in a lake if you try to hurt either of us, okay?”

“Yeah. That’s…” She glances down, then lets out a huff. “That’s fair.”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Happy with her answers, I turn to finish the song and send us through.

* * *

I’m caught between weeping joy and horrid pain as the memory fades. Rolling myself into a ball and wailing voiceless sorrows as the storm roars outside. A very loud reminder of the Dark Goddess I seek.

Such a perfect harmony to the screaming pleas for her to… to save me!

Help me!

Fix me!

All shouted directly into my soul. But… but I can’t see the shard she left, or my curse, or… or even the brand! No Jellyfish to murmur comforts even!

My sobs blubber and warble in tune with the discordant roars of the storm. But… she either can’t hear me or… or doesn’t want to come. Maybe… maybe doesn’t even want me anymore.

I’m just too messed up for even her now. Can’t… can’t imagine how upset she’d be if she saw my soul now. No Naranggas and so so small. Any of her Reavers more than able to pin me and hurt me and… and…

This time… when the shadows come for me I’m just too tired to run.

Too useless and broken.

Biting and howling and screaming. Horrid talons and teeth and claws bite into my flesh.

My mind.

My soul.

Even my little spark of Amwella cracks again.

I plead with them, begging these horrid things to just… just STOP! Please! Let me… let me…

Then a memory burns somewhere deep in my soul. A reminder to me that I have devoured worse things than these petty shadows. And I feel a flash of such Dreamer Blighted ANGER.

Reavers, Fae, and the blighted sea beyond the Rifts could not shatter me. I’ve walked the Old Road twice and devoured her god’s soul!

These shadows should be the ones running from me!!!

Standing… I roar all my words, all my will, all my Amwella… Howling in fury and agony at the Dream that always seeks to destroy and devour everything I am.

The storm bellows encouragement.

Shadows tremble.

Jellyfish coo from someplace I cannot see.

The brand burns.

And my Amwella cracks as I drown these blighted things with My Shrike of the End.

* * *

Lyra is screaming as we find her. Wailing a song of horrible Dreamer Blighted sorrows that It’s all I can do to just… whirl up a song of protection to shield us.

Where… oh she came HERE!?! Thendra’s horrid Rift of storms? WHY!?!

The old stones of this room groan under the weight of my lover’s anguish and fury. Bookshelves are already cracking and breaking. Only the weird pool of black nonsense seems to refuse to even ripple at her howling.

I call out to her, yelling peace and healing and all the love I have for her into my song.

The fire woman hisses something, her little flame darting out to… to try and help burn away the blight that Lyra is roaring from the…

Oh.

Watering burning eyes widen as I spot my lover standing at the spooky pool of eck that Thendra draws her Reavers from. Her clothes torn and mostly melted away, half her body a horrid scar of burn wounds. But her Amwella is… it's so small! No tendrils and… and it looks to be barely a flicker!

So how is she weaving such a huge thing? The strain of this would leave me an exhausted mess for a week! And that’s not even considering her curse’s sting!!!

I push forward a few steps with the flame’s help, but… but Dreamer’s Tits is this just like the sea of blight!

“LYRA!” I howl again. “STOP!”

And to my surprise, she does. Just… not from my words.

Her Amwella cracks, and from it thrums a pulse of… of such fire and heat and–

I reweave my song, fast and sharp, a trick of my Old Hawk for a quick and dirty dodge when something bigger than you can block is heading your way and you don’t have time to move. It’ll leave me exhausted and hurting but… but I know from the overture of this melody that it will kill everyone within range.

Just like it did back in the temple.

Grabbing the flame lady and plunging a finger into her odd living fire, I whistle the final note of the Flicker Shift and prepare for pain as I yank us out of the Dream for a few horrid seconds.

Crack…. Wait…. Wait… Wait… SNAP!

It’s like… having every single nerve and muscle and strand of hair suddenly snapped in half and jammed back together, and I am a slumped gagging mess for quite a few seconds as that wave of Amwella feeding retracts back into Lyra’s cracked soul.

Flame girl is the same, and we sort of jerk up together to watch as my lover wobbles, begins to… to slump and…

And fall toward the pool.

I don’t know how the flame lady moves faster than my Fae form, but within a second she is at Lyra’s side and pulling her back. Then she cradles Lyra, holds her close in a way that screams of such worry for her. “Hey girl, it’s… it’s okay. I… You’re safe. I’m so SO sorry. For before. I… I shouldn’t have…”

But my lover is silent and still. Eyes shut and body limp. Breathing trembling breaths but… very unconscious.

“Good catch.” I grunt as I rise and move up to them as she trails off, humming a song of healing under my breath to try and mitigate the pain and damage of that last song.

Flame girl stands as well, arms holding Lyra as if she weighs nothing to her thin little arms. “What happened? What was that?”

“Not sure but... She’s had a rough day.”

A pause, and she looks me up and down when I offer nothing else. “I know some good healers we can take her back to.”

I sheath my knife and stow the stave on a belt loop. “None as good as my songs can do. But… thanks anyway.”

A pause as I reach out, but… but she makes no move to hand Lyra over. Seems to… to be grinding her teeth a bit in conflicted angers. But… they seem mostly self-focused as her eyes trail over the burns.

“I’ll carry her while you open a Rift then.” She says only just barely glancing up. “You seem a bit shaky.”

I sigh, “Look, your help was perfect but I’m not sure others at my home will be happy with another guest. I never even got your name.”

She nods, then her little blue spark pulses at her next words. “Duchess Raska of the Everflames. And you have my Oath that I will protect Lyra with my life and harm none in your home that do not offer me violence.”

My eyebrows must touch my hairline.

An Everflame? Dreamer’s Tits Lyra you really do attract the scary types!

But… Everflames take Oaths very seriously. Their flame and power literally halves in strength if they break a promise like the one she just laid out. And it was… honestly pretty broad. Easy for Lyra to abuse if she wanted, and… Raska has to know that.

“Alright. Let’s get her home.” I smirk, already thinking that I like this girl. “I’m Awnya, by the way.”

* * *

“Lay her there!” Tretion demands as we move into our chambers. Tendrils all a flutter of anxious worry and anticipation.

I… I can’t help but grin like an idiot as I move to the bed’s end.

Lyra’s here! She’s… she’s beat up and probably filled to brimming with… with horrid agonies from her time with Thendra. But she’s here now! We can keep her safe! Help her start to heal. A year? A decade? A couple centuries!?! It won’t matter!!! We’ll make sure she’s swimming in warmth and love! So long as she is breathing it’s not too late!

Raska obeys, moving up to and laying Lyra down on the bed with a gentle regard that still surprises me. Then she hesitates for a moment, eyes rolling over the burns again.

That… worries me a bit. Makes my grin sour. Everflames are sort of a wild bunch that my Old Goat tried to steer us from.

“They can clear their own Blight with their stolen magic, love to hold grudges, and tend to let their anger flare out uncontrollably.” He’d growled as we skipped through one of their odd Rifts at the edge of Dreadweave’s territory. A place filled with big melted rock sculptures and twisting blackened trees. “If you have to work with one, get an Oath out of them. Doesn’t have to be big or anything. Just… don’t attack me unless I hit you first. They know our kind abhor killing and will be quick to accept such a simple thing if they mean well.”

Dreamer’s Tits I miss him.

He’d… if not for the curse he… he would be such a help right now. Would have browbeat the other Fae elders into stopping their nonsense and helping Lyra.

“Okay so… Just let me know where to direct my melody.” I shuffle forward to stand beside my watcher just as Raska moves back.

"Of course, just give me a second to understand where she needs healing the most..." Tretion’s eyes glimmer and her brow furrows as she begins to strip off the last of the layers of ruined and worn leather from Lyra’s body.

They… These look… I wince. Really bad. Lyra is not in good shape. And she’s not even begun to awaken despite all the shouting and movement.

“These aren’t fresh wounds.” Tretion whispers, fingers touching lightly on the twisted flesh. “They’re scars. Old ones. Healed as if… as if she…”

Horrid things, they stretch from her left foot up to her chin and lower cheek. Cover leg, hip, part of the chest, all of her left arm, and roll up her neck… Just barely avoiding her ear.

“Wait what?” I stammer. “Like… like she didn’t heal them? Just left them to seal up on their own?”

Tretion nods, face twisting into such a pained thing.

“Are they magical? Or… or cursed?” I ask, preparing a low humming song to touch at Lyra’s burns.

“No.” Raska whispers so softly that if I’d started my song before she spoke we’d have missed the words.

We both glance up in surprise.

“How would you know?” Tretion asks.

Raska takes in a deep breath, eyes locked on Lyra’s burns. “She’s Fae, and a soul drinker. I watched her devour a few dozen soldiers just a few days after she got them years ago. She… she should have healed by now. Even without Fae nonsense.”

I start my humming song steady and focusing on her skin. Knowing this but… so many!?! For a Fae to drink souls…

“Even accidentally being the reason a soul is torn from the dream will hurt you, Little Sparrow.” My dad had warned. “Be smart, quick and clever. Never let yourself get cornered into making that choice and marring your soul’s place in the Dream.”

“And more than anything avoid Soul Drinkers. That addiction can twist a mind and heart into such Blighted shapes…”

“What caused them though?” My watcher presses, eyes narrowing as her tendrils still in such a sudden and quiet show of anger.

Raska visibly pales a bit. “It… it was just a flare. Not even a big thing. Controlled.”

I would press for more answers but… that’s when I notice it. And almost choke on a sob.

Tretion turns to regard my sudden song’s end. “Awnya? What’s wrong?

“It’s… Dreamer’s Tits.” I spit. “I… I can’t heal these!”

Her eyes widen.

“She… I don’t know! I’ve never–” I hiccup a gasping whistling tune, take a few deep breaths as the song helps calm my mind a bit. Eyes already bubbling with tears. “Her soul doesn’t see them as scars or wounds or… or anything unhealthy.”

Raska jerks up, eye sparks flaring in… something. “What does that mean?”

Tretion turns back to our lover, face gone from a twisted mess of worry to one of such pain. Head tendrils shaking and tilting down toward Lyra as a hand cups her cheek as she whispers. “She wove these into her soul’s Fae song. Made it a part of her ideal form.”

I swallow. Mouth going very dry as my heart begins to thunder. “Thendra. That… That absolute cunt! I… I’m going to–” I grip the hungering staff tighter. Let its fury bleed into my mind and–

“Can you check her mouth?” Raska whispers.

A long pause.

“Why?” Tretion freezes, eyes dart up to regard Raska with such cold barely held back… things. All the bad things.

“Just…” Raska stammers, her face a twisted thing of such fear. “Please.”

Tretion does as she asks, and gently cradles our lover's head while carefully pulling her mouth open. Then she gasps and hisses in such pain.

Raska is pale as snow now, and… and a little green. Before I can ask, the Duchess is storming from the room, soft choking things that sound like gagged sobs of fury echoing as she leaves.

“What?” I whisper, touch my watcher on the shoulder as I glance back and forth between them. “What’s wrong!?!”

She tells me, and I’m immediately wailing a healing song. Trying to… to heal our lover of this!

But nothing happens. The soul in her sings that all is well and perfect.

Because Lyra’s ideal form is now one of horrid scars and voiceless agonies.