"Vivi? You alive there?" Rava’s voice carried through the darkness, distant but clear.
Vivienne groaned softly, her body slack against the ground. The energy to even speak felt like a luxury. “Somewhat.”
There was the sound of footsteps crunching over debris, stopping just beyond the haze of aether still lingering in the air. “Right,” Rava muttered, her voice unreadable. "I'm going to check on the travellers. Don't keel over on me, yeah?"
Vivienne didn’t reply, barely lifting herself to watch Rava’s silhouette disappear toward the camp. The silence that followed felt heavy, oppressive. She sank back down into the patch of earth she'd claimed, letting herself be swallowed by the stillness.
The wolf’s emotions clung to her, raw and feral. They tore through her like jagged glass: rage, hunger, fear... loss. The memories were broken things, fragments that flickered and died before she could grasp them fully.
A flash of light—fire crackling in a village.
A guttural scream, cut short.
The howl of wolves beneath a shattered sky.
Vivienne winced, her claws digging into the dirt as the images tore through her mind. They weren’t hers, but they felt close, familiar. The beast had been more than a mindless predator. Its pain, its anger—they were real, rooted in something deeper than mere survival.
The Dusk Aether swirled within her, tangled with those lingering echoes. It resisted her even now, as though the creature’s will refused to die entirely. For a moment, she felt as though her own thoughts were slipping, as if the wolf’s rage might take root in her.
“No,” she growled, her voice hoarse and fractured. “You’re gone. You’re mine now.”
But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. She’d taken its aether, devoured it, but what lingered inside her wasn’t something she could fully control. The power was hers, but the burden of what came with it was unavoidable.
She let her head fall back against the ground, her many eyes closing. She needed rest, not just to recover her strength but to sift through the storm left behind by the creature’s death. To figure out what was hers—and what wasn’t.
For a moment, her thoughts strayed to the travellers, to Rava, to the choices that had brought her here. A faint smile tugged at her lips, bitter and fleeting.
“Just another monster eating monsters,” she murmured to herself, the words barely audible in the night. Then she fell silent, letting the fragments play out in her mind as the night wore on.
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Rava strode back into the camp, her steps deliberate and steady, her presence commanding. The travellers stood stiffly, weapons still clutched tightly in their hands—sharp blades, sturdy spears, and heavy hammers. Their grips hadn’t loosened even after the beast was slain, and their eyes followed Rava like predators watching an unknown threat.
She stopped just shy of the firelight, her sharp gaze sweeping over them. “It’s dead,” she said simply.
The tension in the air didn’t dissipate. If anything, it thickened. One of the travellers, a broad-shouldered man with streaks of blood across his tunic—whether his or someone else’s was unclear—shifted uneasily, his knuckles whitening around the hilt of his sword.
“And her?” he asked, his voice tight with suspicion.
Rava’s expression didn’t change, but the faintest flicker of irritation passed through her eyes. “She’s fine.” Her tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.
“Fine,” another traveller echoed, his tone almost incredulous. “What even is she? That thing—”
Rava cut him off sharply, taking a step forward. “She’s the reason you’re all still breathing. You might want to remember that.” Her words were a low growl, quiet but carrying enough weight to make even the boldest of them hesitate.
The man faltered, glancing at the others, but no one spoke. Their wariness hadn’t gone away, but neither had their fear of the alternative.
Rava took a step back, her posture easing slightly. “Keep your weapons if it makes you feel better,” she said with a shrug. “But if any of you so much as think of using them on her, you’ll be dealing with me next.”
Her words settled over the group like a smothering blanket. Slowly, reluctantly, the travellers began to relax their stances, though none of them dared to lower their weapons entirely.
Satisfied, Rava turned her back on them without another word and began making her way toward the edge of the camp.
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Vivienne lay in the shadows, her body heavy and unmoving, though her mind was far from quiet. The wolf’s aether coursed through her, a volatile storm of emotions and fragments of memory that refused to settle.
There was so much rage. It clawed at her insides like fire, searing through her thoughts. Beneath the fury, though, was something else—something more visceral. Loss. Grief.
And then the images came again, disjointed and vivid:
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The warmth of a den, the quiet companionship of others.
Intruders. Gleaming steel, cold hands, and unfeeling eyes.
The den’s safety, destroyed. The blood of packmates staining the earth.
Vivienne let out a low groan, her clawed hands dragging through the dirt as she tried to ground herself. The memories weren’t hers, but they felt too real. Too raw.
Her breath came in shallow gasps as the wolf’s emotions tried to drown her. She could almost hear its thoughts—or what passed for thoughts. Protect. Avenge. Destroy.
She forced herself to focus, to separate herself from the remnants of the beast. “I’m not you,” she hissed through gritted teeth. Her voice trembled, but her conviction held firm.
It took everything she had to push the lingering fragments aside. Slowly, painstakingly, the storm inside her began to subside, leaving her drained but still standing.
Vivienne’s many eyes shifted toward the distant glow of the campfire. She could hear Rava’s voice, steady and commanding, carrying across the distance.
She smirked weakly, a hint of bitterness creeping into her expression. “Always picking up the pieces, aren’t you?” she muttered to herself.
With a deep breath, she forced herself upright. Her limbs trembled, her form flickering unsteadily, but she managed to stay on her feet.
The memories might fade with time, or they might linger forever. Either way, Vivienne would carry them. Each fragment of pain, of longing, of loss—they etched themselves into her, indelible and raw. She could feel them, like whispers on the edge of her thoughts, remnants of lives long extinguished.
She knew their pain. Each person and creature that had been consumed by the beast’s will, she understood them now, their stories as real to her as her own. They were voices in a choir of sorrow, and yet there was a kind of beauty in their persistence.
“No,” she murmured softly, her voice barely audible over the night’s quiet hum. “You won’t be forgotten. I’ll hold on to this. To all of you.”
The promise settled something within her, a fragile but resolute peace. The storm of emotions began to quiet, not erased but accepted. It was as if the wolf’s essence, so alien and hostile before, now found a home within her. The echoes of its rage softened, replaced by a solemn understanding.
Vivienne drew in a deep breath, her form stabilising as the last vestiges of turmoil gave way to clarity. Her body felt heavier, stronger, as though the memories themselves had become a part of her foundation. She straightened, the faint shimmer of Dusk Aether rippling across her skin, not in chaos but in harmony.
She let her eyes close for a moment, listening to the night. Somewhere beyond the camp, an owl hooted, its call grounding her in the here and now. For the first time in what felt like hours, she didn’t feel like she was drowning. She felt... whole.
Yenhr's light continued to spread across the landscape, bathing the forest in soft gold as morning fully claimed the horizon. Vivienne remained in her hydra-like form, her body heavy with exhaustion but her resolve steady. She watched as the travellers stirred, their movements cautious, weapons still within reach.
Rava approached the group, keeping her posture relaxed but her expression firm. She spoke with a calm authority. “We need to get moving. The sooner we put some distance between us and whatever else is lurking out here, the better.”
One of the travellers, a man clutching a spear with knuckles white as bone, glanced at Vivienne. “And what about… her?” His voice wavered, the question laced with both awe and trepidation.
“She’s with me,” Rava said firmly, her tone leaving no room for debate. “She just saved all of you from that thing. Unless you’re planning to take on the next beast yourselves, I’d suggest showing a little gratitude.”
The group exchanged uncertain glances, but the tension in their shoulders didn’t fully ease. One woman hesitated, her gaze flickering between Rava and Vivienne before she lowered her blade. “Fine. But if she turns on us—”
“She won’t,” Rava cut in, her voice sharp as a blade.
Tension lingered like a storm cloud, thick and oppressive, as the group quietly gathered their belongings. Finally, Drenna, the de facto leader of the travellers, broke the silence. Her voice was measured but firm.
“Enough,” she said, cutting through the unease with a glance at the others. “My barrier wouldn’t have held without the help of her… friend.” Her gaze flickered toward Vivienne, who lingered at the edge of the group, her hydra form still towering and ominous in the morning light.
With a weary sigh, Drenna turned to Rava. “Best you and your friend leave, Lekine. You've done enough.”
Rava’s ears twitched, but she didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she folded her arms and studied the group with a faint frown. “Funny way of saying thank you,” she remarked dryly, but her tone lacked real venom. “But fine. We’re heading out anyway.”
Drenna met her gaze, exhaustion etched into her face. “It’s not about gratitude. It’s about fear. They’re scared, and I can’t blame them. That… thing she did—” Her voice trailed off as she gestured vaguely at Vivienne. “It’s not something most people can just... ignore.”
Rava’s expression softened slightly, though she kept her posture defensive. “Fair enough. But for what it’s worth, you’d all be dead without her.”
Drenna didn’t argue, only nodded curtly.
Rava turned, her tail flicking once in frustration, and walked over to Vivienne. “Looks like our time here’s up,” she said, her tone lighter. “Ready to move on?”
Vivienne shifted, her body undulating with a quiet, unnatural fluidity as her form began to contract. Her limbs vanished, merging into the mass of her hydra shape, each head twitching with a barely contained hunger. The air around her seemed to hum with a strange tension, her aura thickening as the transformation took hold. She could feel the weight of the change, the pull of something ancient and primal, but she pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand. With a flicker of determination in her gaze, she spoke, her voice a low rasp, "Ready as I'll ever be."
The two started off, leaving the travellers to their murmured discussions. As they moved deeper into the forest, the light of Yenhr filtering through the canopy, Rava glanced sideways at Vivienne.
“You handled that better than I thought you would,” Rava said, her tone neutral but her eyes keen.
“I’m too tired to care,” Vivienne replied. “They’ll forget me soon enough, and that’s probably for the best.”
Rava huffed a laugh. “Not likely. You’re the kind of nightmare that sticks with people.”
Vivienne let the comment hang in the air, her focus drifting inward. The memories of the wolf were quieter now, settling into the depths of her being. The emotions still lingered, a faint undercurrent of sorrow, rage, and defiance, but they no longer clawed at her mind.
“Let’s just keep moving,” she said finally, her voice steady but subdued.
Rava nodded. “Agreed. There’s a village not far from here. We can rest and figure out what’s next.”
As they walked, the forest seemed to breathe around them, the tension of the morning giving way to a tentative calm. But even in the quiet, Vivienne couldn’t shake the feeling that the events of the night would follow her, a shadow that wouldn’t easily fade.