Vivienne paused, letting her gaze linger on the wolf-woman before her. There was a question hanging between them, unspoken, as she weighed how much of her origins she could safely reveal. For all she knew, Rava could be as dangerous as she looked—collar and all, especially considering that whatever reason had brought Rava here had been severe enough for such a cruel, restrictive punishment. The collar itself was a mystery, a device likely meant to suppress her abilities, yet it clearly hadn’t taken away Rava’s sharp suspicion or fierce intensity.

“New Zealand,” Vivienne finally rumbled.

“I’ve not heard of this city before,” said Rava carefully, her brows drawing together.

“Country,” Vivienne corrected, rolling the word out slowly. “It’s a small island nation very far from here.”

Rava tilted her head, scepticism sharpening her gaze. “How do you know it’s far from here if you don’t know where ‘here’ is?” Her tone grew more aggressive, as if Vivienne’s story didn’t sit well with her.

Vivienne shifted her misty form, feeling an unusual response to the interaction. The strange part wasn’t Rava’s reaction; it was her own. Alarm was building in her senses, but the feeling wasn’t laced with fear. It should be there—fear was logical in this moment. Instead, her emotions felt dulled, as if her current body somehow blocked them from taking full effect. Steeling herself, she let out a low, grumbling sigh, almost imitating how she might have breathed in her old body.

“It isn’t in this world,” she finally admitted.

“That’s impossible.”

“So is an intelligent nightmare.”

Rava stared at her with intense scrutiny, eyes narrowed. The moment stretched, taut and tense, until finally, to Vivienne’s relief, the tension snapped. Rava let out a hearty, if slightly pained, laugh, and the air between them softened.

“Agreed! So you,” Rava said, shaking her head in disbelief, “you died in your world, spoke with an elder deity, and now you’re here on Nymoria, as an aetherbeast that shouldn’t be able to speak, let alone possess intelligence?”

“That sums it up, yes.”

“Then going off what you said, you didn’t know what aether was before. Is the aether in your world thin, perhaps?”

Vivienne thought about that, unsure. “I don’t think we had aether at all,” she admitted, her voice uncertain. “As far as I knew, aether didn’t exist, nor any gods.”

“But everything needs aether to survive,” Rava scoffed, in a matter-of-fact, as though it were a truth as simple as breathing. “How would a world form without the hand of the gods?”

Vivienne fell silent, chewing on this information. Just because no one on Earth could manipulate aether, or even sense it, didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Who was she to say? Her people hadn’t exactly considered the existence of elder deities until she’d met one in person. This deity—Akhenna, as she’d introduced herself—had brought her here, and the memory still filled Vivienne with a mixture of awe and confusion. Still, there was no real way of checking any of this, not unless she somehow got back to her world. The possibility of that seemed absurd now, a closed door.

“Well, I could tell you how planets formed. Astronomy was a minor passion of mine. Though now that I know gods exist, who knows how much of that knowledge applies.” Replied Vivienne with a body-encompassing shrug.

Vivienne hesitated for a moment. “Do you think I could use the aether?” she asked tentatively, curiosity prickling.

Rava let out a short, barking laugh. “Everything can use aether, from the smallest animals to the ancient giants. You, my strange friend, are made of aether.”

“R-right. Well.” Vivienne shrank a little, feeling foolish and slightly overwhelmed by how alien this new life was.

Rava watched her for a moment, her laughter settling into something kinder. “Come on, we should get out of here.” She slapped her knees and pushed herself to her feet. “I haven’t eaten in over a week, and with this collar cutting off my aether, I’ve barely managed to survive off a few rats that found a way past you.”

“Lead the way?” Vivienne said, her voice quieter, still adjusting to the idea of relying on someone else so entirely. Back in her old life, independence had been her strength. It was something her husband would always tease her about, gently reminding her that no one could do everything alone. She felt a pang, thinking of him, wondering how he was faring. If he was still alive.

The memories were there, close but just out of reach, like a mist hanging over a riverbank. She could feel the moments before her death, a strange and hazy swirl at the back of her mind. But each time she tried to focus on the details, they slipped away, elusive as smoke. She was left with only the certainty of absence, an ache for the life she’d left behind, for the man she’d loved.

The strange, distant world of Nymoria loomed around her, but already, she missed home. She missed him.

They reached the door and Rava grunted as she braced her shoulder against the heavy wooden door, its worn frame looming above her, nearly half again as tall as she was. With a determined huff, she leaned her weight into it, straining her muscles, which were already weakened from weeks without proper sustenance. Vivienne slid up alongside her and pressed against the door with her shadowy form, focusing all her might on the effort. Yet, even under their combined strength, the door barely budged. It was as if the very wood itself resisted their will, unmoved and stubborn.

But then, to Vivienne’s surprise, she felt her form start to slip under the door. It was like water seeking the path of least resistance, flowing into cracks and crevices too small for her to have even noticed. One moment, she was pressing against the unyielding wood, and the next, she was on the other side, spilling through the gap as if she had no mass at all.

Disoriented, Vivienne looked around and found herself beneath a collection of wooden furniture, old and heavy, yet surprisingly untouched by rot. The pieces were layered over each other in a haphazard barricade, clearly intended to keep someone out—or perhaps, in. She slid through their shadows, barely touching them, until she was free of their confines.

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With a sigh, she slipped back under the furniture and slid herself under the door once again, her form seamlessly seeping through. When she reappeared on the other side, she saw that Rava hadn’t noticed her absence, still bracing herself and pushing fruitlessly against the door, her face tense with effort.

“There are several pieces of furniture pressed against the door on the other side,” Vivienne rumbled, her voice a low vibration echoing through the narrow hall.

Rava let out a groan and slumped against the door in weary defeat. Vivienne noted how the proud lekine’s strength seemed to be fading, the exhaustion etched into her every movement. She could see Rava’s hunger as a tangible thing, a need pressing down on her like a weight.

But more than that, Vivienne could feel Rava’s fear, her gnawing anxiety that they might be trapped here, that she might starve before they could escape. The fear hovered in the air, rich and almost… inviting. It seemed to call out to her in a way she’d never experienced before, like it was something she could touch, hold, or even—

“What are you doing?” Rava snapped, her voice sharp, pulling Vivienne from her trance.

Vivienne flinched, her tendril recoiling as if scalded. What was she doing? She wasn’t sure. There was a gnawing hunger deep inside her, and that fear… it seemed so close, so tangible. She’d thought of her favourite foods, tried to summon up memories of comforting flavours, but they brought no sense of satisfaction. The idea felt flat, hollow.

“Sorry,” she murmured, embarrassed. “I’m not sure. I could feel your fear, and it was just… right there for me to…”

She trailed off, uncertain, watching Rava’s expression shift between curiosity and weariness. Rava let out a heavy sigh and slumped to the ground, her gaze fixed on the cold stone beneath them.

“I think you aren’t used to your nature,” she said, her voice softened by a note of pity. “Do you know what nightmares feed on?”

Vivienne hesitated, piecing together the fragments of her own instinct. “I think… fear? The thought of my favourite foods does nothing for me.”

“Exactly.” Rava’s face tightened as she shifted painfully, wincing. “Nightmares usually sneak into places where people or animals sleep. They force nightmares upon their victims and then drink in the fear-laced aether that their terror creates.”

“Oh.” Vivienne felt a pang of something akin to shame, her dark form rippling with the emotion. The word "pest" drifted through her thoughts, and it felt like a brand. To be reduced to a creature that fed on fear, slinking around as some monstrous pest… It made her want to recoil, to hide from herself. How was she supposed to stand against a god when her very nature felt so pitiful?

“I see.”

Rava pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, sighing.

“Look, I know it’s not your fault. You can’t help it.” She lifted her eyes, meeting Vivienne’s gaze with surprising softness. “If you need to, you can drink a bit of my fear. Just… don’t take too much, or you’ll drain my aether reserves. Nightmares usually leave their victims exhausted, and I’m already worse off than I’m letting on.”

Vivienne perked up slightly, tendrils trembling with a mix of shame and hunger. She reached out, tentatively placing a tendril on Rava’s leg, feeling a rich, fear-laced stream of aether flow into her. It was intoxicating, flooding her senses with an intensity she’d never known. Every particle of her being seemed to alight, tasting and absorbing the essence of that fear.

It felt exquisite.

And she wanted more.

“Stop,” Rava gasped. “STOP!”

Vivienne flinched, jerking back her tendrils, horror rippling through her. She could still feel the lingering euphoria, the way the aether spread through her like wildfire, intoxicating and pure. She hadn’t even realised she’d taken too much. The hunger had seized her, taken hold of her without warning, and she’d lost control. She shuddered, trying to shake off the sensation as her dozens of eyes turned to Rava, guilt prickling within her.

“You took too much,” Rava said, her breaths ragged.

The pang of regret Vivienne felt was sharp, biting. She’d barely exerted herself to take the aether—it had been so easy, far too easy. Another thought flickered in her mind: perhaps she could take just a little more. But she recoiled from the thought, horrified. She folded over herself, shrinking inward in shame. She’d tasted something so deeply fulfilling, and in that moment, she’d lost herself to it.

“I… I am so sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s… fine,” Rava said, though her voice was tinged with exhaustion. “You didn’t know.” She took a long breath, as if to steady herself. “I’ll need some time to replenish my reserves, though.”

Vivienne felt a swell of guilt, coupled with a fierce desire to help. It was her fault that Rava was weakened, and Rava was already extending so much kindness to a stranger who, for all she knew, could drain her dry in a moment of weakness. A thought formed—an idea that seemed almost laughable in its audacity.

“May I try something?” Vivienne asked, voice pleading. “I promise I won’t take more.”

Rava nodded cautiously, watching her warily. Vivienne extended her tendrils, gently placing them on Rava once more. She focused, searching for that feeling she’d felt before—the way the aether had flowed through her so naturally. As she concentrated, she felt something click into place, like a dam breaking. Suddenly, she could see the aether around her, shimmering and swirling in intricate patterns throughout the hall. It was everywhere, ambient and alive.

Focusing on that sensation, she began to draw the ambient aether into herself, feeling her form expand slightly with each tendril she absorbed. Then, just as carefully, she tried to reverse it, pushing the aether back through her tendrils and into Rava.

A wave of nausea swept through her, as if she were expelling a part of herself with each thread of aether. She could feel her form shrinking, recoiling as if rejecting the sensation. This aether lacked the delicious, addictive edge of fear-laced energy, but she forced herself to continue. Slowly, she could see Rava’s form gaining vitality, her cheeks losing their gauntness, her breathing steadier.

“Oh, that feels good,” Rava murmured, her expression melting into bliss.

After several minutes, Rava raised her hand, signalling Vivienne to stop. “That’s enough.” She blinked, her eyes bright with curiosity. “What… what did you just do?”

“I think… I drew in the aether from the air and… gave it back to you,” Vivienne said, her voice laced with uncertainty.

“That’s strange,” Rava mused. “Even exomancers can’t do that, not like you just did.”

“What’s an exomancer and an endomancer?” Vivienne asked, genuinely curious now that she’d seen a glimpse of what she might be capable of.

“Endomancers, like myself, use our own aether to enhance ourselves. Strength, endurance… even going without food, as long as our reserves hold. Exomancers draw from the world around them, shaping spells from ambient aether, but they need time to build their spells. What you just did was both, something rare among mortals… and unheard of in an aetherbeast.”

Vivienne sat in silent contemplation, her mind churning. Maybe there was more she could learn about herself—perhaps even a way to change her form. The thought gave her a sliver of hope.

Rava’s voice broke through her thoughts, her strength renewed. “Thanks to… whatever it is you just did, I feel better than I have in weeks.” She grinned, rolling her shoulders, and took a stance by the door. “Now, watch what an endomancer can do.”

Vivienne withdrew, watching as Rava took a deep breath, grounding herself. She muttered an incantation, and brilliant circles of light wrapped around her forearms, crackling with energy. With a swift, powerful punch, she slammed her fist into the door, and it shuddered violently. Undeterred, she struck again, and this time the door buckled and splintered, flying off its hinges into the piled furniture.

Rava straightened, shaking out her fists with a triumphant grin. “So,” she asked, looking over her shoulder, “how was that?”

Vivienne’s many eyes sparkled with admiration. “I’d say… worth the show-off.”