CW:

Auditory Hallucinations, Thinking about abuse and wanting to be back with abusers, talks about becoming a tree and not thinking people thoughts, and addiction. First Lyra POV of Arc 3 AHHHH!!!

Dreamer’s Tits, my watcher is just… so smart. Brilliant and wonderful and… and really good at figuring out things that would take others a dozen lifetimes to understand!

Including me.

“How would you like to explore the three newest Groves and help me weave them?” She asks.

Without even looking up she read not just my growing anxiety and restlessness but… but also worked through probably about a dozen different things that might help! And… and is also so willing to put off whatever she’s working on. Despite how much she was enjoying it.

“S– sorry.” I huff and look up from the page I’ve let my eyes roll over for the third or fourth time.

I’m curled up in a bundle with a neat book and blanket while Tretion sits at her desks working on… something. A really thick book that she said she’s been using to help her track the amount of people living here and… and compare it to… other things? Making sure enough food or something is not just being harvested but like… um…

There’s no song to it all so it’s hard to follow the rhythm she’s tried to explain.

Tretion moves to slide onto the floor next to me, asks with a smile. “May I join you under there for a bit?”

I nod and soon we’re snuggled beneath this huge blanket. Flesh and souls and tendrils and Jellyfish nuzzled so close and sharing thrumming warmth.

So like we would do all those years ago. Only...

“Ah.” She chuckles while fibbling at the little bit of blanket in front of me. “I can smell why you’ve kept this close all morning.”

I nuzzle shyly into her. “Awn– Awn– Awnya.”

Smells so much like our Fae.

She sighs, and doesn’t even try to hide the tint of worry that’s been thrumming through her Amwella. “I always miss her when she’s out and about. And…” A touch of guilt seems to shimmer through her. “I… I’ve put off research that could’ve let me be the one to go instead.”

I pull back to give her such a look. One that I hope shows her my surprise.

She smiles and kisses my nose with a chuckle. “I’m within nibbling distance of finally being able to venture into the Rifts again. But… Have been postponing working out the final steps.”

“Wh– Why!?!” I stammer. “H– ho– how?”

“I need to work out the proper… Well, Ovellen called it radiance but she was halfway to madness. However… the word works fine for this. It’s a type of tuning that Amwella needs to have to not be rotted by the Dream. It’ll require a few tests but… that shouldn’t take long. A good week of work with Awnya.”

“Wh– why wait?”

She sighs and looks past me, soul all a flutter in worry and guilt and… and stubbornness.

And we sit there in silence for such a long while. So long that even I can figure out the shape of why she’s waiting.

“W– want t– to le– lea– leave w– with me a– and A– Awnya.”

She nods, so softly it’s almost unnoticeable.

“B– b– but d– do– ddooo–”

I huff while glaring down at my useless talons, and when I regather my words and thoughts I look up to see a few tears bubbling in her eyes.

She doesn’t trust me.

“I…” She whispers. “I’m sorry. It's just...”

I sigh and reach up to wipe a tear just as it falls.

“It Oke.” I murmur while pulling a hand of hers up to nibble and kiss at. “S– so– sorry.”

“Oh, Beloved.” She leans forward to pull me into such a tight hug snug. “I… I just can’t risk losing you. Not again. Not… not now that you… you’ve begun to heal and finally… finally…”

Finally start to feel hate bubbling up for the monster that hurt me. Something I’ve only just barely been able to share with them. And… and not just that. It’s so hard to tell these two amazingly loving souls that I can’t help but still yearn for my Dark Goddess so much.

The soul who kept me from just… ending myself for all these years. Who held me like I was such a valuable prize no matter how many times I had to be broken to keep moving. And I... I still ache so often to just… stop thinking and feeling again. Just let her distract me from all that with such wonderful agonies and–

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“It Oke.” I whisper into her, cutting off the memory before it can drown me. “Th– thank.”

We cry a little more, share such soft murmurs of love and… and pain. Sorrows no one else can really understand. Not even our Fae. Things born after a year of quiet life spent sinking into happiness only… only to have it torn from us. And… It's wonderful. Needed. Because it makes me feel like the girl she lost and… and maybe can still try and become again.

At least maybe a little.

But soon stomachs are growling and Tretion and I are heading off to find something to eat for the midday meal. My watcher leads us to a smaller community and chats a bit with a few interesting people covered with fur and chitin and little sensory things that are kinda linked up to their fluffy souls like Tretion’s head tendrils are!

They’re really sweet and I end up murmuring a little song to some little flowers they have growing that had begun to wither. Even making sure the manor will keep an eye on them and adjust the lights in here to not burn them.

And then Tretion leads us, warm and good smelling food wrapped tight, to the little grove she mentioned. A sort of… kinda jungle place and half old manor being overgrown by that life. Soulwaste bubbles pulsing and wiggling all around and like… leaking into the trees and grass. Either feeding them or… or becoming them?

Huh… Is there a difference? If I died and my old body and soul fed a tree would I like… become them? Or they me? Do I need people thought to be me? Would I care if I stopped having them?

Not sure. And Dreamer’s Tits is that too complex a question to ask my Tretion.

So instead I let her talk. Listen intently as she just… gushes about this place. What she’s hoping to make and how Awnya’s helped and like… the problems and solutions she’s found while doing it.

I… understand maybe half of half of it all, and would feel bad if Awnya wasn’t the same way.

"Our watcher’s brilliance is just… too much for us to follow sometimes.” Awnya had shared with such love glimmering in her eyes and dripping from her soul. “And I’d rather see Dream’s End than smother any of her joy in sharing this passion with us.”

By the end of it we’re nuzzled so close into each other. Wrapped in the blanket that smells of our traveling Fae and letting snoozie little gurgling songs I’m working out how to sing lull us into such peaceful sleep…

That is…

uNtIL a SCreAm tEArs me FROm iT.

I jerk awake so hard that it kinda sends me into a flailing tumble. Flesh and soul and mind and Jellyfish wriggling about in all directions in a sudden spike of fear and fury. Seabed of Amwella suddenly erupting with weird little spines and warbling pulses of odd cloud looking things and...

Just barely missing my beloved’s soul.

A sort of… a mix of a hissing growl rumbles up from me as I leap up to stand and glare about the… the…

There’s no one here but us, and our watcher.

“Beloved?” Tretion asks softly and carefully as she pulls up from where our tangled panic left her. glowing eyes rolling over me and my soul.

I reach out with all my senses as I pull Jellyfish close. Soul and song and body casting about as I whisper to her, Clearer than I expect. “Scream?”

She doesn’t answer, and her soul sings of worry but… but not at…

I jerk back to find her sitting and just… watching me. Tendrils wriggling about in worry while her soul shows much the same.

ANOtHEr SHriKe, this time clearly from somewhere deep in the jungle. I jerk over to the direction it echoed from.

It seems darker over there, more… more hidden behind the trees the manor has–

“Lyra?” Tretion asks. “What is it, love? Did you… was it… is this like before?”

Before? What is she…

But the rippling of soul alongside how she’s sitting and not touching shows me clear what she fears this is.

A Waking Nightmare.

“N– no.” I hiss, and shake my head while tendrils pull closer to my core. “He– hhrrr– heard Sc– scre– scre–”

Can’t get the word out as such anger and fear and… and wretched sadness starts to envelope me at the thought that this could be one of those old things. Things my Dark Goddess said she healed me of! And… but… no that’s not what she said…

“Pleasure and Purpose.” I whispered, almost… almost feeling that old curse’s sting at my words.

“Or love, and all the aimless agonies it brings.” She purred, a hand moving to carefully dance over the curse at my flank. “You cannot have both. This is why you are plagued with Waking Nightmares, my Lyra.”

What does… What did that even mean!?!

I growl in frustration, then turn back to Tretion. “Y– y– you n– no he– hear?”

Jellyfish coo and jibber curious worry over my trembling soul.

“I only hear the quiet of the forest, and the little sounds the manor sometimes makes.” Her face bears such a look of worry. “Can you describe to me what you're hearing?”

“Tw– twi– twice.” I huff and glare off into the darker areas. “Scr– scream. N– not now.”

She nods. “Anything else? Any flashes of memory or odd sensations?”

I shake my head.

She nods, soul seems to calm a bit. “That’s good. And you’ve not experienced any since you left, you said?”

I shake my head again. “N– no. N– noot si– since frr– first nn-night w– with h– Her.”

“Did… Do you know why?”

I whisper, looking down. “W– was… Sh– she said… t– told me that… th– that I…”

Too hard to explain. To… to get the words up and out to wrap this nonsense in!!!

“Take your time.” Tretion assures me. “Healing isn’t a straight path, beloved. You are safe and free to find the words. Our manor would react if these are anything other than shadows, both to protect you and me. I’ve made sure of that.”

I can’t can’t help but… but jerk up to stare in desperate hope at her. Swallow hard, and try to force out the words Thendra told me so long ago. Interrupted by TWo mORe scREAmS that seem to warble and echo and… and even seem to have words I can just barely not understand. Earlier ones seemed… almost scared? But these… they sound like the howling of some horrid beast!

Tretion listens through it all. Even asks the manor to use its own senses to confirm that I’m the only person to hear these horrid sounds. Lights up the darker sections to show the far wall and empty jungle while holding me close.

Bubbles snuggled around us and her and… and ready to move if my tendrils seem even remotely about to hurt her. Every little twitch now makes them ripple and… and…

“Alright. That… It sounds very much like she was lying to you.” Tretion assures me. “The idea that love can cause those incredibly debilitating moments is… honestly such a wretched thing to tell you. Especially on that night.”

I huff. “B– but th– th– then wh– what? Th– they st– stopped!”

She sighs and squeezes the talon she holds. “I… How much do you know about Soul Drinking, Lyra?”

Consuming a soul entirely. Not… not an Amwella dance or even the feasting Thendra did to me. Just… ripping and tearing and ending a person. Drinking their flame all in one big gulp.

Something I’ve done more times than count.

“O– only… Only l– little. J– just… ju–just ate. N– ne– never a– asked.” I wince and shake my head, whisper so soft and pained. “S– sorry.”

“She manipulated you into doing a lot of things.” She says with all the love and understanding I don't deserve. “But… other than the act itself being so ghastly, do you know why more people don’t do it? Despite the benefits it can bring?”

Another shake of my head.

“There are side effects. Soul diseases and such that can infest and poison. Amwella consumed is much like other foods one might eat, except rife with all sorts of things we only barely understand.” She says as calmly as possible.

“Wh– why n– not tt–ell m– me b– before?” I whisper, end up flinching and jerking back to stare into the empty space as another HowLInG sCREAaM echoes forth from nowhere and everywhere.

But... Quieter now. Maybe fading?

Tretion holds my hand so tight through it. Waiting for me to calm before answering. “I didn’t know, honestly. Was and still am fairly certain they were products of physical abuse and mental trauma. Everything I’d ever read about Fae souls told me that they are some of the most resilient things in the Rifts.”

“B– but wh– why now?” I shiver and tremble, pulling soul tendrils close and nuzzling into my Jellyfish as they radiate love for their scared mother.

“I’m worried you’ve developed an addiction, and are suffering a type of withdrawal. That and… and Awnya always mentioned how dangerous it is for a Fae to even be the reason someone dies. There might be additional symptoms or problems or… or other such things.” She sighs and pulls me closer. “When she returns I… I’m hoping it’s with answers. Either from her or your family.”

I can’t stop the tears and choking sobs at the… the flashes of pain that brings up. Images of my family hating me and wanting to hurt me or… or see me unwoven and… and It’s so hard to tell which actually happened and which were just… just twistings of those memories from my old Waking Nightmares!!!

I must get out enough words and pulses of my soul to show my brilliant watcher what I’m dreading, because soon she is offering me such affections and encouragements.

“Awnya insists that they miss you terribly. Regret how they treated you and wish for nothing more than to see you safe and healing. Would… would never consider repeating their mistakes. Are haunted by them still. The chance to see you again will fill them with such furious joy!”

I… it’s so hard to believe her though. Amidst my own twisted broken memories I’m left such a trembling sobbing mess in my lover’s arms. Soon though... everything is quiet but the sounds of a single little monster's sniffling broken whimpers. No more strange horrid calls haunt my mind that day.