CW:

Memory of killing a lover and a spoopy forest. Then being a big cunt and not trying to help save a cutie.

I wince as I watch the blow tear at the chitin and writhing mess beneath but…

They don't know that only the cracking of this thing's heart will end it. Send it tumbling back to the Weaver’s Wood like a predator with a broken limb.

So I gather up my blaze and send it forth before this thing can call up more like it but...

Ina is already moving. Hissing their melody about that still unbroken bone leg and body as they circle the beast.

For a moment I worry like I would for other allies but…

I can’t hurt the Weaver with my flames. Not so long as they have but a hint of Amwella.

So I continue with my working. Call up my most potent kindling to make sure the blow will either end this conflict in a single strike or leave the Beast reeling so Ina can–

Cold.

Chest has been so cold for eight months. But I… I’ve never told her that.

Not sure why until now.

She sits before me. Just like always. The girl I asked to bind her everything to me in some silly mimicry of richer sorts nonsense. Silly. Childish. But… We both knew we wanted this.

Didn’t even walk the Paths together. Didn’t want to. Just… found this good spot and built a home together.

Her once blazing scarlet eyes that glowed with such vibrant delight at my request now sit dull maroon and empty. Despite how much that fire in her chest blazes.

She’s dead. That monster killed her and left me to send her down the river. But... Then I did something. Something unnatural. Poured everything I could into her. Almost died myself, I think. But… It didn’t work. She's not spoken a word or moved on her own since. Eight months now I’ve fed her and bathed her and watched her wounds heal wonderfully. Not a scratch left.

Eight months of the woman in the shadows of my Dreams trying to tell me that my girl is dead. Pushing me to take back my flame and let her go.

Live on without her.

But I couldn’t do that. Or tell my lover's empty eyes about the frigid blizzard that’s been slowly tearing me up from the inside out. So worried she was still in there. Somewhere. Fighting still to get back to me. That if I told her I need that blaze in her chest she’d… she’d stop fighting.

Avoid giving me any signs she’s alive so I’d drink up that flame and stop slowly dying here with her.

Move on.

Can’t do that either. And I weep as I tell all this. Admit to my fear and beg her to come back to me.

Wake up. Please.

But she doesn’t. Of course.

And I'm being so selfish keeping her trapped if my girl is buried somewhere deep in there all these months. Awake but unable to control her flesh.

So I gather up her warm lifeless body into my arms. Just like I did after she accepted my clumsy proposal. Lean down to press lips to hers, filling both our mouths with the taste of wine and tears.

Pause. Hoping one last time to feel her return my kiss.

But… she doesn’t. Of course.

Already dead.

And with a sob that splits my everything apart I tear the blaze from her chest and feel the flesh she left behind finally die in my arms.

Can barely breath as I am finally dumped from the horrid memory’s snare. Gasping and wheezing like some beach-stranded fish. My weeping more than ugly, more than messy, and more than anyone would ever know what to do with. Blubbering sobs of regret and apology. Even pleas for the river I let her drift down alone.

But… they really are trying. And that makes the tears fall harder.

The duenna I used and betrayed and abandoned and even loved a bit holds me in her arms. Refuses to let me thrash about and damage myself farther in my mind rotting grief. Even murmurs soft things of support and calm for me.

And beside us is…

The girl and goddess I threatened and lied to and tried to kill. Hand rubbing soft circles across my back as they weave such soft melodies about me. Songs that help the heart ruining sadness bleed through me. Not… not smothering it like I’m used to others insisting. Actually encouraging me to weep as much as needed to release some of this.

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Can’t even properly reach up to wipe away the tears in my eyes to make sure we’re safe. That they killed the Beast and maybe began to seal this crack.

Doesn’t seem like it from the smell.

“I– is…” I rasp through a throat torn and shredded by a stupid old woman’s pain. “A– are…”

“It melted away.” Ina replies, the song drifting into a natural end. “All that remains is this odd forest. I take it you’re aware of how to get us out?”

I shake my head, pull free of Zigdara’s embrace to wipe away the tears. “No out. We’re still in the manor. We… we need to deal with this.”

“Okay. How?” The duenna asks.

“Last time I burned it all down.” I answer. “Manor and all.”

“That seems messy and stupid.” Ina huffs and sighs. Standing to gaze about.

“If you’ve got a song for this, then use it.” I cough and spit and try to get the smell of ashes and rotten sap and cold corpses from my nostrils. “This is your doing, after all.”

Zigdara sighs through a tired glare at me. But Ina…

They look down at me with such a worried expression. “We… Was everyone alright when you left them?”

Her duenna looks like she means to argue but… waits for me to speak.

“Yes.” I rasp. “Rahdian seemed confident that she could handle a nightmare or two. Only one near us and I left before more might have sought me out.”

“Good.” That causes such a tension to leave their form, letting them sag a bit in relief. “Okay. We can sing this away.”

“Ina…” Zigdara murmurs, slowly untangling herself from me to stand beside her charge. “Do you have the soulflame to spare for this?”

They consider that, looking about the space. “We think so. If we focus on calming and easing things instead of trying to deal with every little leaf and blade of grass. This forest doesn’t want to be here any more than we do.”

Their duenna looks to want to argue, but instead only asks. “And… for the healing after that you’ll need?”

Healing?

“We’ll be mindful of that. Will stop if we draw close to emptying things and let Emarial burn the rest.” They look back to me. “Is that acceptable?”

I tilt my head, wanting to press them about that. About… about what cost this has to Ina’s body that needs to be healed after. But… nod my agreement.

“Can you walk? It’ll be best if we’re moving toward the edge while we weave this.”

In answer I rise, and Ina begins to lead us.

Silent at first, but then I find that it's much like back at the Obelisks. Like slowly gathering up all the threads for some great weaving. Careful, but not shy. Deft, but not burdened with uncertainty. All that they need to weave this great working all about and easily drawn up and into the tapestry.

And as the first foreign words leave their lips I can’t help but find the sway behind them. Like an echo tossed out for the forest to answer. Which…

I can almost see the tint of the manor’s hallways in the distance. Growing ever closer.

Their pace slows though. Becomes unsteady as they seem to hear the unspoken answer to the song. Their reply is nearly a rasp, moisture prickling their eyes as they glance about. Then their gaze finds mine, and among the endless questions I know they wish to demand I answer… only one matters.

This forest, this… splitting, is from the Weaver’s Wood. And it is not named because it is a place that she dwells within or once held dear.

No. This is the forest that holds Her corpse and grows from the magic that bleeds from what remains.

At that they pale. Song tilting into a thing of horror and despair and… and longing.

Longing to seek out the ever-dying flesh.

But at that the shadows of this forest begin to grow longer. More… defined. The song that was once filled with peace and comforts now rotting as the Wood about us is blighted to its core. Calling wretched howling nightmares forth.

Zigdara wraps an arm about her charge, tugs Ina about to face her.

Speaks words that are lost in the song but clearly impact Ina enough for them to close their eyes and focus.

Try to steady their working and pace.

It’s a struggle for them. As… as it is for all the other Sun Spoken that fell into loving their cursed Goddess and came to feel the draw of this Wood after facing a Beast from within. Tearing this melody they weave to crack, forcing them to stop and regather up the shattered pieces.

And all throughout their Amwella dwindles. Burning softer and smaller with every step and note and nightmare stilled. Each shred of this place costs them precious embers.

Near the end, as their soulflame bears such a small blaze, they turn and look at me. Are about to ask that I finish the work.

But then such a collection of howls causes the branches and trees to shake.

We all jerk back and around to see the looming shadows of Beasts greater than the ones we just faced moving through the Wood.

Drawn by Ina’s gentle songs like predators to a fresh corpse.

I reach for my own soulflame and the wretched memories I'll burn beneath to call fury and flame, ready to burn what remains away in a burst that will likely tear away half the manor and leave me in such a broken state from the memory I’ll have to re-endure.

But with a whip-crack of fury Ina and her shard weave a close to their song, and this Wood’s time and place within this Waking World.

We all stumble as if struck by a wave from the sea. The manor snapping back into place in a jolt of motion that ends with me leaning hard against one of its walls. The song that was a deafening symphony now just… gone.

Not even echoes remain.

Just…

Glance over to see Ina on their knees. Sobbing and choking and weeping as Zigdara moves to curl about her.

And…

No soulflame. The last of it spent to close that tear before the Beasts could approach. All of the pain from these revelations punctuated by the cold ache in her chest.

“Sorry.” They whisper. Voice a rasping broken thing. All weight besides the slight tilting in tone of two spirits speaking together. “F– fucked up. D– didn’t f– feel them u– until….”

“You need Amwella.” Zigdara states.

They nod, try to rise, but stumble into their duenna’s embrace as if such a great weight sits on their shoulders.

“Come. There are rooms here. You can take from me.” This duenna offers without hesitation.

Not seeing what I and her charge sees as their eyes drift up to meet mine.

Even if such an embrace would bear enough Amwella to replenish them, which it does not, there simply isn’t enough time.

Their body is already buckling under the weight of the Weaver’s spirit roused to the Waking World. The quilt of protection their Amwella offered already burned away to expose flesh and mind to the Rot of this merging. Like some… gaping maw it would take double Zigdara’s Amwella to quench its thirst and keep Ina’s mind and spirit from shattering. And even if there was time, all Ina’s lovers are spent as well. Amwella already harvested for their flames. Even this new Sun Spoken’s contributions alongside all the others wouldn’t be enough.

“Emarial…” They whisper as they see my recognition to all these things.

A plea.

For the gift of soulflame offered without an embrace. Enough to ensure they survive this night.

Live beyond their mistakes.

“You drew these nightmares and worse here, to this place. To nearly ravage and kill everyone you love and more besides.” I state into the quiet.

All my lessons and words and broken promises crashing through me at this… this one chance. Perhaps my last. To end this. To end Her before Ina can hasten this world's end even more.

“Sun Spoken, is this really the–” Zigdara starts.

But Ina raises a trembling hand to halt her words. “Yes. It… w– was a mistake. Something th– that won’t happen again.”

Deep breath as I see the path, a way to keep some of my promises.

Reply evenly. “You can’t be sure of that.”

Zigdara stiffens at my words. “Emarial, What are you doing?”

I take a step back in answer.

Witnessing. No more, no less. Keeping my promises. Protecting others from this recklessness and blind love for a Goddess that would see us all burn beneath her–