CW:

AAAAHHHHH!!! Welcome to the END of Arc 2!!!! Thoughts of abuse and sexual assault and trauma and fear of children suffering the same or worse. Blight Weaving and snuggles. Burns/scars itching and hurting.

And... at the end of it all. A Reaver is Broken.

“How ya doing?”

What took you so long?

I ignore the… that. Let my clutch snuggle that stupid thought away. She's not thinking that!

I sigh and shrug, trying to give her my best and most easy smile as I nuzzle my Jellyfish closer.

“Yeah. Honestly? Same.” She smiles back as she steps up to me. “Would very much rather be in bed right now.”

I nod and close the distance, pull her into a hug. She returns the embrace without hesitation. And after too short of a pause of silence, she murmurs softly. “You can still say no.”

I just… grumble wordlessly.

She chuckles in a way that’s meant to seem carefree but… even without focusing on her soul I can see all the wibbles of worry about this.

“We can just… close this all up.” She continues. “Go see if Pytara would cook us a nice meal again, then go for a walk through the new gardens, maybe take a swim, then head back to bed for… maybe a less than restful evening?”

I pull back and fix her with my most stubborn and confident look as she trails off. Thrum and growl disapprovals.

“No words for me?” She smirks, and it almost cracks my will immediately.

I sigh and look down and away. Focusing on… on… what to say and how to form the words.

“Imm– Imm– Portant.” I finally murmur.

She shrugs, moves hands up and down my sides. “Sure. But there’s not like… any rush. You’ve only been here a few months. This can wait.”

“W– Want to.” I whisper.

“Want to… what?” She purrs softly. “Head off and enjoy the day with me?”

I huff and shake my head. Gesture past her.

“Huh? What?” She prompts, feinting misunderstanding.

I do turn up to glare at her then. It’s not really anything serious but… her smile does falter.

“Eh…” She sighs. “I’m pushing too hard, aren’t I?”

I nod.

She just… It bothers and worries her so much how I… I don’t talk or sing with Fae words. Has all but told me how much she yearns to hear my melodies shift into softer things and… and more normal Songcraft of her kind.

“Yeah. Sorry. You’re right.” She moves a soft hand up my neck and to my cheek and hair and… and… I lean into her touch. Murmur acceptance and forgiveness. Could just… stand here until the Dream’s End enjoying my Fae’s loving affections. Have to fight so hard to keep my soul and clutch from reaching out and sweeping her Amwella into my embrace. But… I promised to help Tretion today, and I’m stalling.

So with a great mupple of a sigh I pull back, move to make our touch just involve hand and talon and… Oh.

A few of my Jellyfish DID move to nuzzle her and seem to happily snooze against Awnya’s soul now! I can’t help but stop and just… grin at that. Feel such a rush of… of somethings as my Fae looks down to notice the little passengers her soul carries. Finds that perfect smirk again as her Amwella melts a bit to hold them close.

“Can I eh… Will they be okay with me for now?” She asks. Thrumming with such… Such hope.

I nod.

She’s all but overwhelmed by that. My Fae suddenly and so happily sharing warmth and love with my children once again. Her Soulflame’s thrum distracting me all the way up until we step around a mound of swirling bubbles and spot them.

The Matron of the Manor, our Tretion. Our watcher.

And… and her newest and most capable duenna.

Everflame Raska.

Standing next to and above one of the most odd doors the manor’s ever produced. A strange… well I think it’s circle shaped. It’s hard to tell and kinda hurts my eyes to try and like… look at it. Covered in twisting designs that seem to carve in impossible ways and disappear when your perspective shifts. Looks like it’s going down already despite being shut.

“Beloved.” Tretion is the first to see us, moves around the weird door and pulls me into a hug. “How’re you this afternoon?”

I huff and try to give her a smile that brims with confidence I only just barely feel. Is fast draining as I work very hard to ignore the girl standing off and away. Feel... fell the burns twitch and itch in anxious flutters of pain as I sense her blaze of a soul and gaze.

I’m sure Tretion sees right through me but… she returns my smile anyway. “Is there anything we can get you? Food or drink or…”

I shake my head, letting soul tendrils begin to spread out and stretch. Careful to avoid my lover’s as they slap and prod at the maybe bubbles all around.

“There’s no rush, and I still have so many tests and calculations I can run.” Tretion continues. “This really isn’t a thing we should even attempt until–”

“No.” I’m able to murmur in one try as I pull back. Move to release hands. “Wh– want to h– he help.”

She nods. “I know. But this… it’s… well I’ve told you a dozen times all the dangers it entails.”

“N– need.” I reply and step around her to regard the door. Stare at it directly.

“Hey let’s… you don’t need to dive right in.” Awnya protests.

“O– over faster.” I whisper, glance back over my shoulder to them. “Open.”

Tretion purses her lips, but nods as she repeats the plans once again. “We’re going to start small. Let in just a little that the manor will dissolve quickly if you can’t. That way the worst that can happen are a few Blightburns that can be easily healed.”

It took a few weeks and a mix of words both written and forced out but… I told them about my beloved sea. How easy and happy and perfect swimming amidst the Rot and Ruin was. They seemed to thrum with a ton of emotions as I shared the story of finding and adopting my clutch of Jellyfish before returning to Theradas.

And apparently… there was something else my mother and Awnya hadn’t shared with me. It… it was to protect me. To keep me safe from Fae who at the time weren’t hunting me but… it still hurts to find another secret kept from me.

My Amwella’s ability to restore and recover after a night of rest. Apparently most people can’t do that, and while Fae souls heal quicker than most… mine is unbelievably fast. Awnya said she noticed it on that first night with her before swearing herself to secrecy with a song that bound her.

So the question was… How? How did my Amwella restore itself so quickly? I didn’t absorb like… passive Dream heat like others. Didn't start drinking souls till after Awnya had seen me do this. So… what’s being used to fuel my recovery?

And that’s where our Tretion’s brilliance shown so bright. Puzzling this all together long before I got here.

My soul, my Amwella, somehow… impossibly, always remains just a little connected to the sea of blight. Is, if her theory was correct, able to turn the Rot and Ruin of the Dead Dreamer into warm soulflame.

I don’t understand it. Not just the how but… why that’s a good thing that made them both so amazed and like… proud? Enthralled even. So much I had to like… pull free of their souls and have a nice little cry all by myself with my clutch of Jellyfish snuggling close.

So overwhelmed by the love that just doesn’t seem to have an end, but keeps growing and changing and… and enveloping new parts of me without hesitation.

No matter how horrid or scary.

Tretion’s soul pulses with trepidation, and Awnya’s flitters in a little worry but… soon my Jellyfish’s happy coos of slumber settle that. And after a few deep breaths, Tretion speaks the command.

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Ugly words, twisting magical… things sound from our watcher’s lips, and the manor hums an acknowledgement in reply. The door creaks and shifts, like some odd puzzle of nonsense that seems more like sinking sand than stone or wood, and a little maw seems to open just a little.

Leaking in Blight.

A nearly unnoticeable sting from my old curse, and I’m hissing a growl of resonance to the little bit of the sea swirling before me. Giggling even as I welcome and reach out to curl fingers around and through the gorgeous mixture of color and perfect wiggles.

Can’t help but just… Breath in the Rot.

Take in the Ruin.

Feel the Blight settle and burn away all the nonsense. Smother all the pain and memory and past of–

But… no. NO. I can stop that. Easily… actually. Just… let it pass over and through as I consider a question.

In the space between heartbeats.

Basking in the Overture before the crescendo of the song.

… What comes next?

I… I don’t know. That fills me with such fear as I peer down at the writhing mass of wonderful glowing light I’m holding in the maybe parts of my Amwella. I thought I would just try and weave the blight into warm Dreamflame but...

Is that what I want?

I could make little bubbles like the manor. Pure potential like Tretion says it is. Craft formless Soulwaste for it to weave into whatever. But… Something about that pricks at me. Feels… wrong. Not bad just… Small? Barely a good thing to shape with my songs and this pretty stuff. Like... almost like I'm breaking a promise?

Or maybe… but… like… Tretion seemed so enthralled as I gushed the other day about the home I crafted in the Dead Dreamer’s wood. Apparently that place is riven with the Blight and to weave anything I’d have to use it.

What to do? What to do? What to do?

So I turn to my two wonderful lovers, hum a very soft question into the melody as I stall its end.

What should I make with this?

They’re both just staring. Eyes so wide. Tretion’s expression is a sort of awed anticipation, and Awnya is one of sheer pride and disbelief and probably more things I’d sense better if I held her soul.

But I don’t want this little blight to hurt her so I just… wait for them to answer.

“Dreamer’s Tits.” Awnya huffs and chuckles. “That… Wow. Okay.”

“What can you make?” Tretion moves carefully forward, then murmurs softer incantations to request the door close. Lets me gather up all the blight before settling beside me.

I kinda… wibble some things into the song. Objects and things I think I can weave this into. They both seem quickly overwhelmed, surprised at all the things I’m listing out.

“How about we keep this simple?” Awnya offers. “Can you make some clear spring water? Like we shared back in the Fae wood?”

Tretion murmurs. “Is that so simple a thing to–”

But before the words pass our watcher’s lips I’ve swirled the mass of vibrantly hued nonsense into a floating orb of clear blue water. Even asked the manor to weave me a pot from the Soulwaste around us for it.

The manor rumbles agreement. Then Tretion gasps and Awnya sputters out as the water plops down into the freshly made container.

I lean forward, take a handful to sip before either can protest.

Perfect.

“Is…” Tretion’s eyes glimmer and glow bright as she looks into the pot. Then whispers. “Not even a hint of Blight.”

Awnya chuckles as she falls back to lean on her palms. “Dreamer’s Tits. This… this…”

“How are you?” Tretion rolls eyes up and down my body and soul while I watch them both with a sort of… nervous confusion. “How much did this cost you to do?”

“N– nn– none?” I murmur. “J– just s– song.”

Awnya's laugh only grows in delight as she sits up, leans down to take a sip herself. Then lets out such a soft sigh of delight. “Wow. This… Lyra this is literally the best drink I’ve had in years. Tastes so fresh!”

I fight back a blush and look down and away.

“Awnya, can you please double check her?” Tretion murmurs, wiping her eyes and letting the glow of Amwella sight fade.

Tired in ways she never would have been a decade ago and with the soul I crushed and devoured and–

Our Fae interrupts the spiral by having me stand and stretch. Checking body and soul and even my Jellyfish over multiple times before surrendering fully to her grin of pride that sings through her Amwella.

“Perfect, as always.” She hums, pausing to draw a finger slowly up my neck to my jaw. “Not even a hint of drain or Blight from what I can see!”

“C– Can’t Hurrr– t me.” I murmur. “T– Told you.”

“That you did.” She grins and places a pecking kiss on my nose.

“This… Lyra, would you be willing to try out a few more things? Weave objects and such from the Blight?” Our watcher asks.

“Y- yes?” I nod. Still embarrassed and a bit confused as to like… why all this matters. Why does this make them so happy? Awnya can go get anything I could weave with a quick Riftwalk out and back.

A few more tests, and soon the floor is littered with such an odd assortment of things. From really simple food things to some rocks and other objects. Nothing really special but… with every weaving my Fae and Watcher grow more and more awestruck and excited.

Even when my latest creation comes out wrong and ugly they just… marvel at it for a bit.

“This is so amazing.” Awnya shakes her head, “Truly girl, this… just… wow.”

I tilt my head, finally feeling like I have a question worth forming. “Wh– why? U–ugly a– an– and wro– w– wrong.”

“Beloved, this… what you're doing should be impossible.” Tretion scoots up to pull me close now that all the Blight has been woven into something safe.

“Wha?” I blubber as I both try and lean into her warm embrace while also trying to give her a look of confusion. “B– but, ea– easy?”

She smiles and kisses me on the head. “Apparently. And that just… adds so much more brilliance to your workings.”

“Lyra you… Other Fae dedicate their lives to this.” Awnya’s expression shifts a bit. Still all thrumming pride and love but… wibbling to carry a tint of worry. “Tilling Blighted Rifts. Cleaning the rot from their shores and coaxing the Hearthfires to blaze bright through them.”

“H– hear– hearth– fires?”

“Mhm, kinda… Songwoven things at the center of the Fae woods. They’re what keep the Rot and Ruin back.”

“Oke?”

“For most Fae weaving just a little Blight is more a… a smothering. Burning it away. There are ashes that can be used for things like gardening, but that’s it. And the Blight tends to have rotted away so much by then that we still lose out in the trade.” She tip-taps the ugly rock I wove on the cold stone floor. “But Dreamer’s Tits you… you just… turn the Blight into something new! Something solid and real and… and…”

She trails off. So awestruck by her own spoken revelations.

“But… B– bubbles?” I murmur and wave about the room.

Tretion nuzzles me close. “That’s similar but… it takes a long while to make even a single one. The reason we’re swimming in abundance is because for centuries no one could convince our manor to weave anything from them. So it’s been building up a stockpile. One that we find fast diminishing with all the people we’re housing.”

“Oh….” I mumble. Then I nearly shout in surprise. “OH!”

Tretion laughs, and it’s probably one of the best sounds in the Dream. “If this really doesn’t produce a strain or wear on your soul then… well… You can easily replenish most of what we use throughout the year in a few weeks.”

Then they will never have to leave to resupply the manor.

The thought stops my rising happiness cold, and both my lovers so easily read the horror that crosses my face. Tretion must say something to Raska, because I feel more than seeing the guardian who has been stoic and silent pull away and leave the room.

“Lyra?” Awnya whispers and pulls close as she spots the muck rumbling through my thoughts. “You alright?”

I’ll never see her again.

I hesitate, then shake my head as the weight of that just… drops on me.

Before they… I mean… I didn’t realize how I’d… how them needing supplies might need they’d have to ask me to go with them and… and how… how if I wanted they couldn’t really stop me from… from…

“Can we help?” Tretion whispers.

From what? What would I do?

I speak so softly. “Wh– want… want… Th– Th– Then…”

Can’t say her name. Not now. Not after everything they’ve given me.

“N– nn– never s– see h–her ag–agin.” I squeeze my eyes shut as horrible trembling sobs overwhelm me.

“Oh… oh beloved.” Our watcher pulls me ever closer as her tendrils move to hug us all together.

“S– sorry.” Is the only word I can let slip from my lips between the shivering little sounds I begin to make.

“It’s okay.” Our Fae comforts. “It’s okay girl. We… I mean… We… We get it. At least a little bit.”

How can they!?! I’m stupid and broken and… and don’t deserve them! That’s… that’s why I gave myself to HER! Because no one else wanted me! And… and because I hurt them both so much and… and… and… but I’ll hurt them so much if I leave and… and…

Circles.

I’m thinking in circles.

Big stupid loops that never end.

Jellyfish join in the snuggles as my lovers hold me so close. Coo their own little comforting songs for their wretched mother alongside Awnya and Traditions' soft affirmations and support.

“Wh– why?” I whisper through the sobbing pain. “Am M– mon– monster. W– want her. St– still. Pl– please. Pl– pl– pl– L– Llll– let mmm– me go.”

Please let me go. Don’t let me blight another second of your happiness.

“Because she’s a blighted cunt who abused you into thinking you only deserve her.” Awnya hisses with all the love and patience of the Dream behind her words. Layers so many soft kisses across my hair. “But she’s wrong, Lyra.”

NO! They… they’re wrong! Stupid and… but not… I just…

“You deserve so much more, Beloved.” Tretion insists. “And even if it takes till Dream’s End we’re going to show you that.”

“Wh– why?” I hiss.

“Because we love you.”

“Wh– wh– Why? Wh– Why L– lo– ove m– me?”

Tretion leans down and around to try and meet my gaze. “Because we want to, and because we find you such a wonderful delight. We see all the beauty that is in your heart and soul and mind, and want to watch you find happiness. Hope so dearly we can be a part of that.”

Soul weaves about them tighter, and their Amwella sings of… of only a perfect reflection of her words. More even. A thrum of things, words and even Fae songs can never match.

“B– but…”

All others will scorn and ravage you.

Her promise to me.

Spoken on the night I just… I gave in. Broke and Bound my will to her rather than die or… or be alone again in my wretched woods. Surrendering my everything to a monster.

The… the only woman who ever kept me.

But… that changed? Awnya found me. Would have come back and maybe even stayed with me?

Jellyfish nuzzle close as I feel something crack under the weight of all this love. All these souls that coo and thrum and sing in nothing but… but such strong affections. Only desire to see me happy and healing.

And… but then Thendra cut the soulflame she gifted from my Amwella! Left me a wretched sobbing thing instead of letting me keep even a sliver of her love. Threatened her and… and sent Twital to... To… To rape me!?!

I’m hissing now. Spitting and… and growling and… and such a horrid gurgling thing thrums from my lips.

“Beloved?” My Tretion murmurs so softly. “It’s okay. We’re here. What do you need?”

Wanted me to kill or enslave this wonderful watcher just… just so she could use me as her Reaver! Never warned me of the waking nightmares that would blight me! Even… even seemed so unbothered or… or glad when I had to come tumbling back to her after one drove me to eat Tretion’s soul!!!

Lovers try to calm me. But I can’t really hear them over this low angry growl I feel splitting from my mind and soul and lips.

And was so happy to ravage my body and soul these past years. Never once offered even a hint of love! Just… physical pleasure while my mind and body drowned in the despair she called perfect!

Pushing crying Jellyfish into my lovers Amwella’s accepting tendrils, I growl for them to stay with Awnya and Tretion while I do this as I pull my soulfire free of them all.

THENDRA!!! I scream into the dark shard deep within my soul. ANSWER ME!!!

Nothing.

Come back to the gate! I spit into the muck of my soul. I’ll MAKE Tretion let you talk to me!

I pause, try so hard to ignore the bumble of worried and confused lovers and jellyfish behind me. Only turn to look at my watcher directly.

Waiting.

But… nothing. No sign in our watcher’s soul that my Dark Goddess came back.

I growl and gurgle. WHY!?! Why should I come back to you? Why did… Why couldn’t you love me? How do these wonderful women and literal Jellyfish of the Blight adore me but… but you can’t!?!

Still nothing.

I gave you my EVERYTHING!!! But… but you couldn’t? Not even a little? A sliver of love would have... made me…

The tears freely flow as I stare down at the body I let her tear and Reave.

I…

Burns seem to… to roil and pulse while tongue sits heavy in my mouth. Curse on my flank almost… almost seems to cut deep into my soul despite the lack of song.

I… even after all that I…

“Lyra?” Awnya whispers. But… Tretion touches her with a hand. Is… She seems to understand, somehow, that this is something I need to do alone.

I… I still want you to be my everything. I still love you. But… but I can’t leave them. And…

Eyes fall on my Jellyfish.

My children.

And a horrid thought flickers into my mind.

They're here now. REAL to everyone else like they’ve been to me for years. Can be touched and snuggled by others. That means they can be… could… could be hurt or snatched away!

And she has to know that now too.

What would you do to them?

All the wretched and horrid and terrible things jolt through me in an instant. Flashes of the torments she laid upon me just… given to them. A way to twist them into… into…

No. I growl. You’d hurt them!

Just.

Like.

You.

Always.

Hurt.

Me.

Another part of my something cracks audibly. Soul tails whip-snap like some sudden storm rolled through my soul at the realization. Walls erected to protect my mind and soul from those kinds of thoughts tumbling down and down as I stare at my beloved family.

That’s all you ever did to me. Even… even when… even the sex. It was just feeding.

Using me.

I… Was I ever not your slave?

Your tool?

Did you ever give me anything that didn’t serve your needs?

Ever… ever give up something to just… try and show me a hint of affections or love?

“Dr– Dree– amers.” I huff as the answer hits me like a physical blow. The realization causes me to stumble, just… fall to plop down where I’d jerked free of the women and children who love me so much it hurts. “Ti– TITS!!!”

No.

“Beloved?” Our watcher shifts, moves to awkwardly shift my children and herself closer. “What do you need?”

I flinch fully as my Amwella sight locks onto her.

She’s… she’s so amazing. So perfect. Full of brilliance and affections and steadfast determinations.

Our wondrous Watcher.

Awnya moves up to her side. “Lyra I… You know I adore snuggling with these little cuties but they're kinda scared and really want their mom right now.”

And our Fae, my Awnya. Such a… a wondrous wellspring of unending joy and love.

I can’t help but smile as I sense them all without even needing to look back. Turn to nod furiously and reach out to take them all into my arms and tendrils. Basking once again in the flood of love they so easily bleed for me.

My family.

“Th–this.” I whisper. “A– all this. Th–thank y– you b– both. W–want to stay. Pl– please.”

“Always and Forever, my beloved.” Tretion thrums with nothing by wiggles of support and affections from her head tendrils. Sensing so easily that something just changed.

After only a brief pause our wonderful Fae adds. “Both until and beyond this Dream’s End.”

Then, more than ever before, I am home.