CW:

Mention of past deaths from Weaver merging. Some GERLBOSS Energy!!! Second Emarial POV!!

The Doyans are gone, and through them my message will reach the Matrons, their heiresses, and the rest of the families and duenna of this city. They were not happy to be pulled from the celebrations and other festivities, but when a Sun Spoken calls, these Obelisks demand she be heard.

I let out a deep sigh, and lower myself to sit on the jade steps beneath the biggest gemstones.

This may not be the largest room in the Academy, but… neither is the heart the largest organ. Both are responsible for managing the life blood of Arudia. Neither can be altered or shifted without threatening death to the entire body.

I let hope blind me. Let myself believe that she would resist and… and that perhaps I could take time to persuade and teach her. Maybe… maybe finally find a woman that could await the end of all things with me.

Or… or perhaps be trusted with the Hearthfire of Amwella that crushes my spirit and soul.

As my thoughts drift, I find myself weary beyond measure. Almost… Yes, over seven months without sleep. Amwella core burns roiling fire through my veins and mind. And while I can sense a… wrongness, within myself. It is only now that… that I truly ache for the release and calm of a dreamless rest.

Vele just... had to fucking tell her. Scared and enraged Ina over the actions we had to take all those years ago...

I try to push Ina's face from my mind. Resist the urge to… to remember watching her slow wariness of me thaw to something warmer and… but… then her anger. Her pain. Her… her love for a mad Goddess who would see this world burn in the fires of wroth and ruin if it meant getting Her revenge on a foe she crushed so long ago.

And… And now she will walk the Paths with fear always at her back. Terror of this mad thing, a crystal that will melt her mind, and me… the Sun Spoken who will kill her should she slip. With only a little Amwella to protect herself when the next nightmare comes for her. Like they always do.

Drawn to Sun Spoken like moths to a flame.

Or a ship to a siren’s call.

A cold runs down my spine as I remember her words. Threats of… of… That wretched Goddess following such a loving woman into the Waking World brings a sick bile writhing up into my throat. The pain in her eyes at the Weaver’s command flashes in my mind’s eye. To tell what might be the only transgender woman in the lands that she must hate and fear those who can best understand her past pains.

Had I found her twenty years ago, I would have killed her the moment she told me of the first command. Hardened my resolve and struck before she could even know that her end had come.

Given a quick death to what might be one of our most cursed kind.

But… now? After nearly two decades of peace and quiet and dreamless sleep? Then seven months of slow building anxiety at what I might find along the Paths? At… at only finding a young and happy woman, surrounded by lovers and filled with the joy that only one newly freed can feel?

I could do nothing. Just… watch and hope. I sigh heavily. But… That name!?!

Why did she take up that blasted and cursed NAME!?!

If the Weaver truly sees her as… as… I run a hand down my face. Through her, She could cause such misery and death to roll across these lands.

A sound interrupts my thoughts. A soft but deliberate tink tink tink?

I look up from my stupor, glance around the atrium as the sound echoes off the towering crystal Obelisks and low gemstone fauna that’s allowed to grow here. Soon I spot the glow of violet eyes in one of the doorways, and then a nightmare from my oldest terrors steps out.

Ina…?

No. NOT Ina.

The Weaver stands with not even a hint of troubled balance at the maimed leg. She regards me with… curiosity and anger. Also suspicion.

But… not fear. Never that.

“What have you done?” I whisper as I rise to stand, more to the dead woman than the thing possessing her corpse.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

She tilts the stolen head at me. “Nothing, yet. We’re here to break a few promises.”

If her eyes had simply… been a mistake. Been a trick of the light, her voice would have proved me wrong. Just… tired and weary and looking for old ghosts where none have been raised.

I probably would have wept and begged her forgiveness for my cruel nature. Offered to… to try and help her.

But that voice? No, it’s a thing of thrumming horror that brings old pains and claws at my soulfire.

I growl, reach back to grasp the hilt of the ancient broken weapon I always carry. It’s not a thing for nightmares. For that I wield Amwellian fire and fury, but such things often wash over those who’ve been consumed by Her.

For this monster I wield the last blade of Cold Iron. Half a greatsword, thousands of years ago broken about half way down the blade. Hilt long and wrapped in leather. Its dull blade of gray refuses to reflect the vibrant colors dancing around us.

“Why!?!” I draw the weapon with a barely coherent growl.

“Why what?” She asks, but eyes lock on the blade. Recognition brooks hatred and fury at its presence. Especially in the hands of one of Her claimed.

“Why would she do this!?!” I shout.

But… the answer is already at my mind’s edge. Tormenting me. Because you drove her to this. You offered her threats and a future of pain and misery without hope. You gave her no other choice but to Turn.

“She?” The Weaver asks, genuine confusion in her tone.

I… As much as I want to purge that cursed thing from Ina, I… I know that this possession of her mind and soul cannot last. All like her tend to fall apart very quickly, mind and soul and even flesh collapsing under the Weaver’s weight. So I take a steadying breath, and try to allow this wretched thing to spend what little time she has in the Waking World tormenting me with words.

“Inamatorii, you wretched thing!” I spit. “You… Do you not even care to remember the name of the woman you consumed this night?”

Her eyes dart up to mine, but only for a moment before refocusing on the Bane I carry. She sighs, obviously annoyed. “Emarial, We’re both right here.”

“I’ve dealt with your shards before.” I glare. “Seen you wash out their spirits to claim mind and body for just a few hours in the Waking World.”

She pauses, looks at me closer. “Emarial. We didn’t think that you, of all people, would be surprised when I mentioned that we were healing our leg. Is… Can you not do that? Not heal wounds with your magic?”

That makes me jerk to a halt. I expected rage or fury, not… not words. Not calm conversation. None of the others could speak plainly for long after letting the Weaver claw Her way our from the Dream She dwells within. “No. I… We recover faster than most women. But… Very, very few could do more than that.”

“Huh.” She raises up onto her single good leg. “Then… would you also be surprised that we can heal the damage this merging does? That… That when we say we, WE do mean both spirits are here and well and flourishing? Mingling as lovers in thought and purpose? That the little spirit will wake alive and well from this embrace after singing a song of healing?”

I… well I don’t relax, but more gape at Her openly. “That’s… You’re lying. You have to be.”

She sighs, then thinks before choosing Her words carefully.

“We can’t speak to the other shards, only… Only have scarce experience to go on. It has been thousands of years since this one was with a lover. But… We assume the issue with merging in another’s mind is one of limitation of the body. And we remade this body. Ensured it was perfect for this union. Made certain its limits could be overcome with the songs we weave.”

“I… what?” In my weariness her words wash through me… are… too much to understand.

She rolls her eyes. “We shaped flesh that could handle the strain. Why would a shard so willing and hungry help remake a perfect body for Her lover leave the mind flawed?”

The Weaver rarely has a reason to lie. I lower the blade a fraction. A thing so wretched and powerful doesn’t think in people's terms. Sees untruths as… as we would see filth on the road. No desire to protect herself with them when tooth and claw and old magics await Her.

Two things war in my mind. A call to just… end Her. Break this thing here and now and escape this land. But…

What if Ina could survive this? What if–

“If what you say is true, and… and this will not kill Ina…” I motion to the archway. “Then leave. Head down the mountain… I’ll find you in the morning. Ina and I can discuss this.”

“No…” She looks past me to the Obelisks. “We have promises to break.”

Cold drips down my spine, then begins to boil back into anger.

She sighs as her eyes drift back to meet ours, “Emarial… This…” She waves an arm around the room. “These things are… We’ve only just begun to understand how horrid they are to the people they were meant to protect! How these ancient codes leave endless life shackled and in pain. Can you not hear their cries?”

I shake my head, raise my blade again. “I can’t risk what you might change and–”

She laughs, and it’s such a wonderfully horrid sound. Something that tears at my heart and soul with the pain it brings. “We don’t mean to change them.”

A long pause. Then I see Her intentions.

“No… That’s… You can’t have the strength or knowledge to do more than–”

She smirks, a wicked thing that brings horrid memories to the forefront again. “We had the song since before thoughts of coming to this fucking mountain even arose. A gift to keep the little spirit safe. It’ll cost a decent chunk of our Amwella, but… Yes. We mean to PEEL these wretched things from the Waking World. Nothing but dust and memory will remain.”

“You’ll doom Arudia! The Obelisks are… they aren't just codes and laws, they… they're old treaties that bind something. Something you can’t–”

“Agreements with an old dead symphony that shouldn’t even be here.” She agrees, “People's thoughts, bound to a Starfallen's mind. But in turn, their nature bleeds into the land. Hurting all women more than you can possibly realize. The Zeridii is dead, and it cannot help but rot this land as you all cling to their decaying corpse.”

I adjust my stance, harden my resolve. “If you manage to break these, then that old thing’s will can warp and twist into horrid shapes.”

She shrugs. “We’ve decided that slavery is never the answer. Maybe… maybe with enough time we can help them too. But… First we must break these shackles. Show them through our deeds that we mean what we offer.”

“I can’t let that happen. I have to stop you.” My words are such an ugly growling thing. Punctuated by a flaring of the Hearthfire I bear.

She sighs, wriggles that horrid bone leg in odd twisting patterns. Like a snake ready to strike.

“You’ll try.”