CW: Lyra POV, Then Tretion POV. Wounded spirits. 

 

Such an odd smell stirs me from the nap I’d fallen into. It’s… kinda gross, but in that oddly familiar way that I can’t help but focus more on. Breath deep and taste as I snuggle down on the soft beddings.

 

Sort of a musky texture, tinted with… blood? Huh. That’s weird. The manor normally cleans up any mess I leave before I have time to consider it.

 

Eyes finally drift open to look about and… And lock on a little huddling of fuzzy nonsense on the far end of the bubble. I scrabble up, hissing a warning growl as… as…

 

She’s hurt.

 

Fur torn and stained with wounds deeper than even I gouged last time we fought, so much that despite wrapping herself in it all that she can, a leg pokes out of the mess at an odd angle.

 

And she’s shaking. A lot, actually.

 

Slowly, and with all my tendrils writhing out to weave between us I crawl about halfway towards her. Reach out and nudge some of the fur.

 

“H– hey!” I growl.

 

She flinches but… remains hidden beneath as much fur as she can.

 

Is this just her playing hurt to get a few extra bites in but… No. And I might have torn up her weird fur mantle thing last time but… not the rest. Something else got to her, and she ran out of the shadows to escape.

 

I purse my lips a bit and just stare for a while. Considering how easy it would be to just… rip and tear and bite and end this stupid spirit right now! She’s hurt and not even trying to escape! But… then my eyes drift over to that stupid soot scented journal and I can’t help but remember some nonsense words written in it.

 

‘The best thing I did was make nice with my first headmate. It was hard, and we hurt each other more than I can remember but… together we’ve been able to handle everything else. Both inside our head and outside. I literally would not be alive without my first. And even if I was offered the chance to rip out each of my headmates but keep my power, I’d never do that. I love him too much.’

 

“Oke…” I whisper and turn back to the fuzzy Fae spirit. “Oke… y– you r– rest here. B– but no att– attack– ing. O– oke?”

 

A pause, and a pretty sapphire eye peeks out to stare back.

 

I flare out my tendrils a touch more. “Oke!?!”

 

She nods, quickly and I swear with a little whimper, then pulls tighter into her mess of torn up fur.

 

I scubble back and pull the blankets from my own bed back around me, focusing on the Fae spirit as the odd scent seems to lessen. And of course all the while I have to also pointedly ignore that blazing soul of six thought paths…

 

Two are upset.

 

Two don’t care.

 

One, the second largest, seems to thrum in approval.

 

And at their core the biggest spirit nearly howls in such delight.

 

I sigh in ‘all the things.’ As Awnya likes to say. A little worried about this fuzzy spirit being so close but… She thrums nothing but weary pain. So I turn to slump back into my beddings and return to sleep.

 

*     *     *

 

“None?” I ask.

 

Raska shakes her head, grinning like I’ve never seen. “Nope! She still growls at them but… no more attacks since that last time.”

 

Almost a week now. And this strange soul companion has seemed to quiet her attacks. Even after Lyra insisted she is whole and well, the Fae spirit only sits and watches.

 

I pause and look down. “That… that’s good. Has she communicated yet?”

 

Raska shakes her head. “Not a word. But that’s fine. They really tore into each other these past weeks. Let them grow comfortable then they’ll open up.”

 

Refusing to both return to the shadow, or speak. Will nod or shake her head when Lyra presses her but… otherwise remains silent.

 

I nod and return to my books for a while in comfortable silence.

 

“Are you still wanting to do this?” She eventually asks.

 

I nod. “Yes. Of course.”

 

She considers that for a while. “You’re worried about something worse bubbling up.”

 

“Lyra insists this spirit, at least once before, was Fae. It very nearly possessed her body, did tear up her Amwella, and all with one demand ever seemingly spoken.”

 

Raska winces.

 

Return to Theradas.

 

Return, quite probably, to Thendra.

 

But… Why would the godthing’s mantle want that? And… and a Fae besides? Does this strange spirit have some kind of connection to the Fae Elders we don’t know about?

 

“Why?” I hiss. “Why would this imprinted spirit, and not the other, demand that?”

 

“Could be for quite a few reasons, right?” Raska asks. “The godthings have ruled over their Rifts for a long time, maybe there is a… a link between them and their homes?”

 

I sigh and nod. “Could be. But then why isn’t this one taking the time to just… explain that? Why resort to violence so quickly?” Then I look up to meet her gaze. “And what could so fully harm it enough to both make it risk my Lyra’s anger, and refuse to return to the safety it had in those shadows?”

 

That sparks a bit of understanding in Raska’s expression. “You don’t think she bubbled up on her own?”

 

“No. It, at the very least, shows us that worse things await within this mantle.” I reply. “And at most… that there's a kind of will acting from it. With clear goals and desires. There is the risk that Lyra will soon be dealing with a spirit more foul.”

 

“Yeah, that tracks.” Raska nods, motions at the books. “So… Two days? Then we’re heading out?”

 

Headstalks of mine writhe in worry. “Yes.”

 

“Have you told her?”

 

I shake my head. “Awnya and I are doing that tonight. Will lay out our plans and once she’s calmed, ask her advice. She… Well, she was with Thendra for many years and… she’s not told us everything. She could have the answers we need, even if she doesn’t know it.”

 

“Do you want me there?” Raska asks softly.

 

I consider that. “Yes, but that might make Lyra less likely to share things. So no.”

 

Raska sighs and nods. “Yeah, I was gonna say the same thing. I’ll be about if you need me, okay?”

 

And soon, my second Fae lover arrives with the meal she has prepared for us all. Pulls me into a tight hug and leads us to our Beloved Bound. Lyra’s reading when we get there. Fairly calm but… her head and soul rise up quickly when we arrive. Expectantly.

 

“Heya love.” Awnya chimes. “How’re ya doing?”

 

“G– good.” Lyra replies and sets the book aside. “Y– you b– both?”

 

“Better at seeing you well.” Awnya answers while pulling us forward. “Brought food, wanted to go over all the things and like… talk about future plans. If you're okay with that?”

 

Lyra nods. “Mhm. Oke. Yes.”

 

Awnya turns to me. “Let's get this sorted, before we get into the weeds of it all?”

 

“Yes, that sounds best.” I reply.

 

So Awnya and I sort out the meal, preparing three separate bowls of the wonderfully smelling food. Lyra, of course, senses that something is about to change. Seems to read out souls so well these days, even without needing to touch them.

 

But she trusts us, and it’s not until Awnya sets such a grin on her face that Lyra begins to see the shape of things. And by the time I’ve been set to hold our entire clutch of wonderfully sleeping children, her eyes are wide and dripping tears.

 

I so much want to follow Awnya as she murmurs a soft request, and is allowed to pass into the space Lyra scrabbles to stand up in. Feel such an ache that almost awakens our young as they embrace and our beloved begins to weep. Sputtering and blubbering out such little cries of thanks and love.

 

But… I need to focus. Triggering my Amwella sight I consider and watch Lyra’s soul. Waiting for anything bubbling up that could signal an attack.

 

Awnya had to go first. Her access to Fae song and quick form makes the risk of her being wounded incredibly low. And with the manor ready to act? Minor scratches are the worst she may suffer.

 

But… other than some oddly twisting tendrils on the edges that seem to be poised to strike something without, nothing happens. And if I had to guess the spirit is probably sitting in that direction.

 

So soon my Beloveds Bound are curled up together. Food partially being nibbled at but… neither can consider the meal for long.

 

“So.” Awnya finally says while holding our lover close. “How’re things with this fuzzy Fae spirit. Has she said anything?”

 

Lyra shakes her head. “No.”

 

“Weeeeeeeeell…” Awnya looks over in the direction Lyra’s tendril seems to ward off. “If she changes her mind, we’d love to talk this out. There’s no reason we can’t settle into peace and healing here.”

 

A pause, and Lyra looks over at an empty space. “No.”

 

“She said no?”

 

Lyra shakes her head. “No. Just… q– quiet. W– watching.”

 

Awnya sighs and shrugs easily. “Alright. It’s an open offer though. You seem like a really interesting person, let us know if you change your mind.”

 

Another pause, then Lyra murmurs. “N– nothing. Still.”

 

Her Fae lover’s arm curl tight in reply. “No worries. We have time.”

 

Lyra leans into her, then peeks out through the arms to meet my gaze. “Y– ou quiet.”

 

I can’t help but smile and nod. “Yes. I… yes. There are so many things I’d like to talk with you about and… honestly don’t know where to start. And I’m incredibly envious of you both right now. Want nothing more than to toss aside caution and join you but…”

 

Her eyes drift down to my core, and the sleeping young about and within. “O– ours.”

 

I reach out to lay a hand on the smooth and warm surface between us. “If you tell me it’s safe, I… I’ll believe you. Cast aside these precautions even. You can sleep in our bed tonight.”

 

She bites her lip so hard it bleeds at that, face wilts as she shakes her head and matches my hand with one of hers. “N– no.”

 

“And not that monster business, either. You’re safe. We know that.” Awnya adds. “Just… if your calm found with this Fae spirit has settled things we’ll believe you.”

 

“No.” She whispers again, more pained but… also more certain and confident.

 

“Alright.” I nod and give her a smile. “We have all the time in the Dream to make it so. A few months is nothing compared to the life we’re building.”

 

She takes a deep breath and nods.

 

“Which… leads us into some good news.” Awnya hugs her tighter. “Something to look forward to!”

 

Lyra turns to regard her, but my words pull her attention back. “I’ve… been quite busy of late. Old research we set aside but needed to finish.”

 

“Huh?” She murmurs, face brimming with confusion.

 

“I um… Well I’ve adjusted the radiance of my flesh.” I start with precision I find comfort and steady focus in. “Tested it out on plants and… and even myself a few times now.”

 

“Muh?” She tilts her head. Still not putting my words to meanings.

 

“Sorry just… I feel a touch guilty at not feeling your hand in mind as I got to see the sky again.”

 

A pause, and her eyes go wide. “F– free?”

 

I nod. “Yes, Beloved. I can leave this manor.”

 

At first… her only replies are tears and sobs. Joy and pain and… and such drowning things that steal away coherent thought. I’m so glad Awnya can hold her through it, and end up very nearly pressing myself into the barrier between us as I lean my head and stalks as close as possible. Cooing and murmuring alongside our Fae beloved as she works to comfort and steady our Lyra through this storm.

 

Eventually she is spent though. Even whispered and wailed apologies quieted to just… clinging to Awnya as a hand and mass of souls tendrils press on the opposite side of the barrier from me.

 

“Wh–” She whispers softly. “Wh– why now?”

 

So clever. More than she’s ever let herself believe.

 

I look to Awnya, whose soul is pressed tight to Lyra’s. She nods. So I start. “Because I want to head out and discover what I can about what this all means for your future.”

 

She continues to gnaw at her lower lip, but nods. “Oke. Wh– where? Wh– who?”

 

“Well… I’m going to start slow. Venture back to a few libraries.” I start. “From there… My family had contacts. I mean to offer treasures of books and magical artifacts from this Manor for information.”

 

“And!” Awnya interjects. “She’s going to have Raska with her while you and I wait here.”

 

That startles her a bit, she might pull to meet our Fae’s gaze but… such exhaustion keeps her nuzzled. “N– not going t– too?”

 

“Nope. You and I are staying right here with our little ones.” Awnya gives her a little kiss on the head.

 

“B– but…” She murmurs. “Wh– I… I c– co– could… m– mebe…”

 

“Nope.” Awnya gently cuts off her spiral. “We’re not going to rush into risking them. Or you being distracted and needing to keep them safe if something more scary than this fuzzy Fae bubbles up. And we’ve worked things out to make sure the Manor’s people will be managing themselves. I mean to stay right here, with you, until our Beloved Bound returns. Even if you felt safe enough to come out.”

 

Lyra wants to argue but… can’t. Not once those last parts are spoken.

 

It has taken weeks of organizing and long hours but… Awnya did it well. Alongside Nelops she has taken what was a chaotic mess of misfit souls and helped them set up a steady bumble of self-run communities. Even got Yuna’s and Usete’s help in finalizing and finishing the blossoming of Groves for their easy use and access.

 

Even without Lyra’s Blight Weaving, they will survive for centuries before adjustments or resupplies would be needed. And when she heals and returns to aiding in that? Endless sustainability. So much so… that we could even turn to fostering outside Rifts, if we felt like managing the risks of it.

 

“Oke…” Lyra finally murmurs. “Wh– why not t– tell sooner?”

 

I sigh. “Because you needed to focus on your own battles and… There is someone Raska and I mean to visit. A woman who I need to question, that I’d like your advice on.”

 

Lyra stiffens, sea-bed of a soul writhing in such confliction and need and guilt. So easy to spot, even though I can’t reach out to feel it directly.

 

“Th– th– th–” She whispers, but… can’t get the name out.

 

“You don’t need to say her name. But… Yes, Beloved.” I say with all the steady calm Lyra needs to hear and see. “I mean to reach out and organize a peaceful meeting with Thendra of the Thirteen. For you. To obtain any information she may have about what’s happening in your soul.”