Hello friends and lovers!!!!

Welcome to Arc 3!

To Break a Blight Weaver

 

CW:

 

 

“You could see something?” I ask as we step from the room. Leaving Awnya with Lyra.

 

Raska nods and replies when the door is shut tight. “It… I’m not sure how to explain it but… Yeah.”

 

“Try, please.” I press as I lead her down the hallway. 

 

We walk in silence for a bit, moving quickly and with purpose to my study adjacent to the 3rd Archive. Once we arrive I murmur a few quick requests, and soon the manor is pulling about a dozen books from our shelves.

 

“Okay so, and this is going to sound off, but it’s the best I have.” Raska finally speaks. “It’s like there is a… an echo behind the radiance. Not more colors like other Everflames might have but… similar.”

 

I sigh and nod. “Actually, that makes perfect sense to me. More even than Lyra’s analogy.”

 

Raska quirks an eyebrow. “She described it like a shadow behind and under her Amwella. But… Also like a sea with things hiding in. How does this make more sense than that?”

 

“Lyra’s perceptions on things are… Skewed. I think my cousins or mothers would have seen something here too. Probably described it the same as you just did.” I say while glancing over a few of the tomes laid before me. 

 

“Not… Wait. Like skewed how?”

 

I smile, just a little. “Did you know she was the first to call the manor’s soul manifestations ‘bubbly Amwella’?”

 

A pause, and then Raska lets out a snort and a giggle. First I’ve heard her make such a cute sound. “That’s… Okay that’s adorable. Fuck me. I was wondering why you all called it that.”

 

“It is. But… It also worries me. Makes me consider that maybe she sees other things with less… Clarity than she should.”

 

“Like Thendra?” My duenna murmurs.

 

I nod. “Yes. And… Well, I try not to think of it, because most things and people she describes in such ways are just so. At least from a certain perspective. She… She knows what that horrid woman is.”

 

A thump, and we look over to see the manor deposit a big stack of books on my desk.

 

“So…” Raska murmurs, looking over them and me in confusion. “What’s the plan?”

 

I let my headstalks finally release some worry. Glad for our children’s gift of calm but…

 

“When it was a single spirit so easily broken and smothered away, and we thought Lyra too strong for any of them to overwhelm… It was to watch. Take our time and consider how best to, perhaps, establish a hierarchy. Like how you’ve done.”

 

Raska nods. “But this cunt came out of nowhere and almost used Lyra to crack the manor. That… that’s such a bad sign. At least if she was an Everflame.”

 

Because sparks have to bargain for strength just as their Cinderkin does. Give and take and very seldom are they able to consume or mantle their Cinderkin.

 

“But she’s not, so I’d like to avoid panicking.” I hold up a hand in placation while moving about my desk to regard the books. “Awnya will keep Lyra calm and weave songs through the cage we’ve crafted if needed, while I do what I should have done months and months ago.”

 

“And that is...?” Raska asks.

 

“Finish the work that will allow me to venture forth from this place and ask some very pointed questions.” I growl.

 

A long pause passes.

 

“Matron…” Raska murmurs gently. “You can’t mean to–”

 

“I can, and I’d like you to accompany me.” I glance up to regard her, tendrils writhing in determination. “If you’re willing. Your Oaths bind you to this place and its current caretaker, which will be Awnya when I step out.”

 

She goes very still then. “This… Matron Tretion I… Is this a good idea?”

 

“Honestly? Yes.” I reply quickly. “The other option is to send Awnya out, which is not something I will risk. Because if this turns to violence, like it did when fetching Lyra’s family, she is declawed. Unable to do what is necessary without scarring herself.”

 

Raska purses her lips and thinks on that for a moment. Knowing well the limits of a Fae’s cruelty. 

 

“And with such… surprisingly hostile and expectedly horrid souls sniffing after our Beloved I’d demand she not just be willing, but more aggressive in her weavings. Which she won’t be. Not without hesitations.”

 

“And you will?”

 

I smirk, “You remember the staff Awnya and I carried?”

 

She nods.

 

“I crafted that, and know the Wretched Incantations within.” I explain, “And I was raised not by soft Fae parents, or wonderful siblings, but by quite a few cunts who made sure I could perform cruelties when commanded or suffer them myself.”

 

Raska winces. “Alright, and… and with a seasoned Everflame at your side very few will think to attack without pause.”

 

“Yes. And I trust you. Both in ability, temperament, and more importantly than those first two… motivations.” 

 

Raska huffs and looks down. “I… Yeah. Okay. I’ll do it. I owe her anyway so–”

 

“No.” I snap, so hard that my duenna jerks. “Do not do this to make right some old pain you caused her. She will set those terms if they are needed. I offer you nothing for this. No rewards. This is a request from me, to you. As a treasured friend.”

 

That makes her flames pulse and sway for a moment. “I… Matron is… I’m not sure I’ve earned that.”

 

“Raska.” I speak her name softly. “You’ve done nothing but earn that. This is not a thing I would ask any other. Save one of my Beloveds Bound if it suited their abilities and current limits.” 

 

“I…”

 

“But if you refuse, it will change absolutely nothing.” I assure her. “I still mean to leave, and will begin to address you by your name alone, if you’ll allow it.”

 

This Everflame huffs and smirks. “Alright. Fuck. I’ll… We’ll need to plan things out. I’m not one to strut into a fight without knowing I’ll win it.”

 

“Good, neither am I.” I move to sit. “So… while I work to get this all figured out, tell me what you know of Thendra and her Reavers when the desire to do violence is upon them.”

 

*    *    *

 

We spend way too long glaring at each other, honestly. Awnya tries to stay with me for as long as possible throughout the days but… she has other things to do and this is one of those days so… I’m just kinda bored.

 

Tretion’s visited less and less, seems really tired and distracted but… promises me that her work is coming along well. That while there isn’t much to tell me at the moment I’ll be the first to know when there is.

 

She’s also given me books, one of which is a little journal she says is from that ‘friend’ who apparently has experience with soul partners. I asked but… she wanted to keep it a secret. Which was silly because the pages reek of soot and cinder and I know that scent.

 

Literally tasted it on the girl it exudes from.

 

But… If I tell her that I know, then she might… like… need to tell Raska. And I’m not sure how to handle that. I would want to thank her and that would mean talking to her. A thing that even if I wasn’t currently stuck in a bubble would be hard. 

 

And honestly her advice is weird and doesn’t make much sense. Is all about feeling out soulfire and accounting for each little flicker and… and watching all the other spirit’s blazes and focusing on how I want to feel and… and like… what!?!

 

How is that supposed to help me?

 

I glare at the stupid thing resting in the shadow of my soul.

 

Unbothered and uncaring at how its presence has ruined so much! So… so infuriating and… and it's just sleeping!?! 

 

With a growl I snap out with a cluster of Naranggas, twist them into a bigger tendril, and plunge them into the muck. Hard as I can.

 

Such a startled yelp accompanies a satisfied echo of a slap from an impact. Rumbles of confusion and annoyance and real surprise thrum from the shadows, soon turning to anger as the thing’s attentions focus on me.

 

“C– cunt!” I only grin wider and glare harder as little eyes become visible. “N– no sl– sleep!”

 

Tides of fury roll out and over me as a few of those weird fuzzy limbs crawl from the pitch, and I match them by letting my own sea bed rise and curl into cruel shapes. Suddenly filled with the urge to bite and tear and Reave this monster for thinking to try and take my happiness and then just… just sleep in the shadows! 

 

A pause, and then a wash of fur and fury lunges forth.

 

*    *    *

 

I stumble into the room to find… oh Dreamer’s Tits.

 

Just… the weird sludge the manor and Tretion wove for this has gone totally black. I sing a quick question to our home, asking if… if it just went dark to contain her better or…

 

No.

 

I feel myself pale and the children snuggling close to my soul gurgle in worry at the fear.

 

The… the shadow she described, the one behind or… or below her gorgeous sea bed of a soul has flooded the cage.

 

I hum and nearly snarl a song of aid and instruction to the manor. Let this magic pass through, but nothing else. It rumbles worry but… it lets my workings pass. And for a few horrid moments I just… stand and sing and worry at all the horrid things this monster could be doing to my beloved.

 

Bound and Claimed till and beyond Dream’s End.

 

Can’t help but let the joy of that seep into the song. How… how much her trust and love and… and desire to see these little cuties become my children too.

 

The shadows ripple at that, and for a second I swear a single blackened talon pierces through the darkness to rake against the barrier. 

 

*     *     *

 

While this bubble was like… pretty small, it really doesn’t matter when this thing decided to try and drag me into the muck. Or… no. That's not right. It pulled the shadow up to swallow me.

 

And now I wrestle this thing in total darkness.

 

As it pulled away to prepare to strike me from angles it didn’t think I could see, I couldn’t help but… giggle at it. Really? This is this monster’s plan? To drag me into dangerously pitched depths filled with strange and scary monsters that might try to eat me?

 

So stupid.

 

This place is soft and warm compared to my Beloved Sea.

 

And while this thing is WAY bigger than I’d have thought, easily… twice as big as any leviathan I met swimming in the Blight, it’s more… wiggly? Not a mass or a lump of solid compressed will but more like one of those big rugs Tretion has about the manor. Except instead of being soft and fun to nap on, it's all sharp and angry.

 

But so am I, especially right now.

 

So at the last moment I twist my sea bed into a couple really REALLY big tendrils and turn to slam into it. Sinking horridly big and hooking shapes that twist off them to bite and grip this stupid thing. 

 

And then I’m jerking and pulling and… and trying to rip it in half!!!

 

Unlike the Blighted Sea, this place doesn’t muffle sound, so I get to enjoy this stupid thing howl in pain. Still no warm soulfire to enjoy weeping from it though… which… I mean that would be nice.

 

A furious jerking of will, and the thing is thrumming and twisting and… melting!?!

 

Just like how Awnya and I can do when our souls are in danger.

 

Before I can think more the furry mass is gliding up my Naranggas toward my sea bed, hitting like nothing I’ve ever felt and sending us spiraling through the muck. Biting and tearing and howling wordless furious insults at each other the entire time.

 

It’ll sink into a limb and twist it to stab another, and I’ll melt and writhe back with three more to bite the stupid thing back. This… this goes on for a long time. A few eternities of two angry monsters tearing into… into…

 

At the thought I remember my warm and wonderful Fae lover. Can’t help but growl in confliction at… at how wrong I still think she is! I AM a monster! Broken and Bound to the role I chose to mantle and… and…

 

Then a tune thrums through the darkness. A weaving of calling and pleading and healing aid from Awnya into the pits of my soul. Weaving and enveloping me while nibbling at the edges of the fuzzy spirit I fight.

 

It helps. Oh Dreamer’s Tits does it knock what was a fight I was starting to think I might lose into a sure victory. Gives me the sharp edge to beat back this stupid spirit and finally pin it amidst three twisting tendrils.

 

Squeezing.

Biting.

Twisting all of me into a Maw ready to swallow this ugly thing after tearing it apart!

 

But then, just before I would take such a big chomp, the floor is rising up to slam into my face. And it takes me a moment to realize that… that I’m back in the bubble within our home. Heart and soul and mind all a fluttering growling hissing mess as I glare at the settled pitch beneath my soul. Almost giving into the urge to howl for… for something!

 

In warning? No… A threat? Mebe…

 

A desire to dive back in and… and find this stupid fussy spirit and… and…

 

I push up to slump against the barrier of the bubble. Only just barely aware of my lover’s song and calling for my attention. Turning I see her kneeling with our children. Eyes wide with love and worry.

 

“You alright?” She asks.

 

I consider that. Look down to see… My body is okay. Has a few bruises already healing. But… soul looks like it never has. Torn up and bearing more scars and little weeping marks than I’ve since… well… ever. Furthonois did worse but… that was my old Amwella.

 

And… and this one’s already swaying and wobbling about. Thrumming a silent rhythm of healing and restoration. 

 

“Lyra?” She presses, her own eyes alight and watching my soul.

 

I look up to give her a nod. “F– fought i– in the sh– shadow.” I whisper. “Th– th– thanks, f– for help. F– for s– song.”

 

She smirks and nods while settling to sit. “Of course, Dreamer’s Tits I’m glad I got here when I did.”

 

I sigh and shrug. “Pr– pro– probb– bably st– still w– w– win.”

 

“Do you need anything?” She asks. “Food or water or…?”

 

Wibbling for a second I eventually shake my head. Murmur a soft. “C– can e– eat w– with b– b– beloveds?”

 

Awnya nods quickly and without hesitation. “Yeah, of course. She’ll probably have all the questions anyway.”

 

It doesn’t take long, and… and of course Raska’s with her. 

 

Tretion kneels and raises a hand to lay against the glass. “Are you alright?” 

 

I give her my best but… clearly tired smile and a nod. “J– just t– tired.”

 

“What happened?” She asks.

 

“A– attacked i– it.”

 

“I… Wait. You attacked it? The fuzzy spirit?” Awnya huffs and shakes her head. “Why? How?”

 

“M– mad.” I grin, unable to stop a little flutter of hungry pride.. “All– almost a– ate. B– but it r– ran. I– is h– hiding n– now. B– but h– hurt.”

 

Awnya matches my grin and rumbles, “Good girl. Nice work.”

 

“I can’t help but agree.” Tretion nods and settles. “Asserting your will is the best way to face these spirits. Both in the long and short term.”

 

“But walk us through it.” Awnya presses. “We’ll get the manor to ask someone to cook us a meal, and in the meantime you can gather yourself and let us know what happened.”

 

And so I do. Honestly… it’s pretty easy. I still stumble over every other word and… and I can’t help but find myself stopping to remember old words of my Dark Goddess. Things… things she gave me that boiled up here.

 

It’s not a contest of the Flesh.

Next time, bite her back.

All others will scorn or rava–

 

“Beloved?” Tretion murmurs, pulling me from my silent contemplations.

 

I shake myself free of that spiral and turn up to see Nelops arriving with a tray of foods. Begins passing them out to everyone. Even to the silent Everflame who keeps her distance.

 

Once the food is slurped through the bubble is when I notice just… just what a mess my fight made. Like… everything was a fight with Amwella but… I think my body must have moved quite a bit because the neat stacks of books and my journal are all tossed about. Some even bearing little talon scratches and quite a few torn pages.

 

So before I consider the meal I crawl about and try to tidy up my mess. Murmuring little apologies to the books and Tretion and the manor for not being more careful. None are upset, of course but…

 

The last book in my talons is the soot scented journal. Only a little torn but… a big gash does mar the once soft leather cover. Take a second to flip through the book, hoping I just… seem to be making sure the insides weren’t damaged but… Can’t help but enjoy the smell and song and memories this makes bubble up. 

 

Long days of calm between what was over a decade of… of… well not that. How she gifted me a place in the little family she built and… and really tried to take care of me and wait for my stupid tongue to wibble out all the wrong words and… and maybe would have asked me to come back sometimes after we left.

 

And… and how I was just… how I couldn’t tell her the most important part of myself. That when someone did none of that mattered!

 

Burns itch and scorch and roil as just a little tremble touches the talons holding the book.

 

“Hey Lyra?” Our Fae calls out, and thank the Blighted Dreamer my back is to them all. 

 

Only a few of my stupid tears stained the pages, so it's easy to secretly wipe it and my eyes mostly clean and set it atop a pile and turn back to crawl over to consume this tasty smelling meal with my beloveds bound.

 

 

 

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