Hello friends and lovers!!!!

Welcome to Arc 3!

To Break a Blight Weaver

 

Content Warnings:

 

 

    
This… is easier than I expected. Still the worst but… not the twisted horrid experience I thought it would be. Only two of my five flames have the energy to still simmer with quiet annoyance, while two are basically asleep and indifferent. And Peva… my first flame is…

 

He’s… well, like me. We hate the Fae. But, we’ve spent a bit of time thinking about that. Talking with mind words and feelings and glimmers of memories. Considering if it is worth our energy to try and adjust and change.

 

[NEVER forgive!] Peva had hissed.

 

Of course. I had agreed. We’ll never forgive the cunts who hurt us or Wren or anybody. But… Awnya didn’t hurt us, and Lyra certainly has done nothing but adore us. Even saved our life from my cousin and killed the horrid sister we were Oathbound to never strike at.

 

That had made him growl but... eventually in agreement. [And the rest? Burn and maim and steal their flames!!!]

 

I’d sighed. But what about Lyra’s family? Or other Fae that are just… sheltered and ignorant? Do we burn them on sight when an Oath won’t stop us?

 

He had chewed on that for a few days, at least. Then, in a late night alone, our thoughts had finally come up from the depths to murmur. [No. We may ember ourselves when there is no threat. BUT, if we ever encounter the ones who hurt us, or this Caravan that was mentioned. We burn them.]

 

Agreed.

 

So now as we stand off and to the side of this little family gathering, a silent duenna to this reunion, my only fury for what Awnya and Tretion have told me was done to Lyra but… Her wondrous soul wraps around them all with such love and relief. Nothing but happiness radiating from her as tendrils and weird little soul bird things seem to huggle close to everyone. All at once. Even seems to not mind me being brought back for this as they tell the story of Lyra’s final day in Theradas.

 

Seems to just be drifting among the emotions their flames burn to. Eyes closed and resting happily as the group’s original topics and worries have drifted into softer things. Discussions of the manor and their people. I caught most of the story when Matron Tretion had the manor call me back. I’d been with her when she moved to greet the three Fae but she'd quickly told me to go wait when the manor alerted her to Lyra rushing toward us at speed.

 

So much like an Everflame. All fury and no patience. Passions unbound. And now… Dreadweave’s Tits… her soul tails still do that thing when she’s asleep. Sort of… stilling before just reaching up and swaying back and forth, only clinging to her lovers now. Those... odd little soul companions nuzzling too deep for me to even begin to understand what they are.

 

First time she's felt comfortable enough with me in the room to sleep since we last shared a bed.

 

“Duenna Raska.” The Matron murmurs softly while turning an eye toward me. “You may retire for the day. Thank you for your vigilance.”

 

I hesitate, and give a small nod before leaving. Taking the public hallways back to… to give me more time to think. To just enjoy the slow smothering of all the worries this day has eased from me.

 

Everyone is safe.

 

Awnya made it back with those two, and they seemed to need to hold Lyra as much as she needed to feel their love for her. That thought brings… Uncomfortable comparisons to the front of our mind.

 

Peva stirs. Sort of… sensing my anxiety. Radiating warmth and comforts as he lets my muses drop into comfortably chewing on a familiar worry.

 

My mothers are probably so furious with me. Abandoning the territory they helped me carve out to just… vanish with the gaggle of Gerlthings I’d brought into my protections. When I’d slipped away with Peva all those years ago they’d just… like they’d been upset, sure. A bit confused that I’d only returned with one additional spark and a new body freshly shifting into girlish shapes but… Such are the temperaments of an Everflame. To wander and burn in odd ways. My transition was unique but… my moms knew better than to bind their children with Oaths they can’t keep. Only ever demanded us swear to not attack our siblings and them unless they struck first.

 

‘Family is the first, and should be the last thing your flames blaze for.’ They’d always said. Burning that litany deep into our Amwella from the first days after carving us.

 

At least they didn’t like… get upset when they saw how much I’d needed to change myself. I mean… I DID give myself claws and really tough skin and like… improved a ton! Didn’t just grow a nice pair of tits and ass, I gave myself a body that would be good for more than my own indulgences!

 

Made it so I could both fuck and fight better than any of their other offspring.

 

But… it was all done to serve them. Expand their territory. Burn foes and Blight and traitors. Help them gather enough strength and sparks and partners to rival even Dreadweave’s influence. Force that old cunt to like… respect my mothers.

 

Peva rumbles at the mention of the oldest Goddess. [Flame stealing, kin betraying, cold rock bitch!]

 

Can’t help but cackle aloud and agree with him. Embracing the warmth of my first flame’s fury as I look up to find our feet have brought us home.

 

Wren’s waiting outside for me which is… odd. Green body stills as soon as those gorgeous black orbs she has for eyes lock on mine.

 

Hasn’t done anything like this since we first met. And… she has perfect control of her form at all times now so… I can’t tell if…

 

“Hey cunt.” I give her a tired smile. “You alright?”

 

She just… Stares at me as I slow to a stop a few feet away.

 

“Raska…” She murmurs, and I see now the careful worry and anger and… and even a little fear.

 

“What?” I ask. “Did I miss a special occasion or… I mean this Oath has a ton of like… last second obligations but–”

 

“Just… tell me why?” She sort of… growls. “Why not tell us that Lyra’s here?”

 

Oh.

 

I wince. “Sevy visited?”

 

“She’s still here.” Wren corrects.

 

“Then… I’ll come back later.” I move away to retreat.

 

She does her version of a quirk of an eyebrow. “You swore Oaths of secrecy?”

 

“No. Just… She still hates me. I don’t want to like–”

 

“She came here to talk to all of us.” Wren interrupts and moves up to stand in front of me.

 

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Yeah. Sure. Just… I’m… I’m…”

 

That makes her pause. Seeing my struggle to find the right words. So I just… let some of it out. “Lyra’s the reason we’re here. She… she stumbled wounded into my court, and… and then an old lover of her’s came chasing after and… and we came here. I was gonna just leave. Knowing she was finally safe with two girls who REALLY love her and can help her but… but then I saw what this place was and asked for sanctuary. Gave the Matron everything I could to bring us all here.”

 

“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell us any of this.” She very nearly growls while a cold hand moves up to grip my cheek and chin in a fury she’s not had for years. “Why you didn’t tell me, Raska? ME!”

 

My voice cracks like never before as I whisper. “I knew they’d wanna find her and was worried you’d all like want to track her down and… and might…”

 

Wren sighs and rolls those perfect obsidian eyes. “We’re not stupid Raska. We understand how trauma works. If seeing us triggers those memories we’ll stay back.”

 

I sort of… blubber a few nothing words before finally getting out. “I… yeah. Dreadweave’s Tits. I just…”

 

Then she reaches out and pulls me into a big slurp of a hug as I trail off. My mind and soul a fluttering mess of pain and confusion and… and mostly guilt.

 

“You may have hurt her, but you’re allowed to be hurting too.” She murmurs.

 

“That’s… Wren. I can’t–”

 

“I’m not excusing what you did.” She cuts me off and squeezes tighter.

 

Wrapping my blaze of a soul in her chilling love.

 

“You need to know that. Know that while what you did was horrid, it wasn’t because you're some frothing bitch who loves hurting others. You were scared and confused, and had every reason to expect a Fae to block or heal the attack with a song. You can be stupid as all the Dead Cinders, but… not malicious. And those Reavers she stayed with scared even your moms.”

 

“I can’t take that excuse.” I hiss.

 

She pulls back to glare at me. “I’m not excusing what we did, Raska. I’m helping my stupid Everflame understand why she did it. So she can start to forgive herself and make sure to never do that again.”

 

“We?” I growl. “No, Wren. You did nothing. It was me who–”

 

“Exactly.” She sighs. “I did nothing. I could have stopped you, easily. Should have made you calm down and even stopped Lyra if she was as horrid as you thought. But I didn’t.”

 

A long pause.

 

“You did stop me, Wren.” I whisper as she glares off and away. Rippling in little angry and sad ways that I’ve come to understand is how she cries. “I… I’m not sure how far I might have gone. How much flame I might have thrown if you hadn’t stepped in.”

 

“You wouldn’t have broken your Oaths.” She waves dismissively.

 

“But I would have burned her worse than I did.” I hiss. “And she… She’s never healed the burns I gave her.”

 

That makes Wren pause. She kind of…ripples harder than she has in years at that. What would be a choking surprised sob from most.

 

“Why?” She finally whispers.

 

I shrug. “I… Matron Tretion and Awnya say it’s because Lyra thinks she deserved them.”

 

“Dreadweave’s Tits.” Wren spits. “We… Now I’m set on us talking to her.”

 

That sends such a jolt of fear and surprise through me. “What!?! No, Wren you… she… I–”

 

She wraps a hand around mine and begins to tug fiercely at my arm. “C’mon. We need to share this with the others. At the very least she–”

 

“No.” I snap and dig my heels in.

 

She halts and looks back at me.

 

I sigh and calm my flames. “It's… I swore an Oath of silence when around her. Tretion and Awnya have told her how I know I fucked up. But… but it needs to be up to her to find and let me apologize.”

 

And then I draw up the words Tretion told me.

 

“She’s healing from a lot worse than what I did.” I murmur. “Needs to figure out so much before risking stumbling into old lovers who hurt her.”

 

That makes Wren pause, sort of… bodily wriggles in consideration. “Good luck convincing Sevy or Zephin of that.”

 

I shrug. “Matron Tretion says that as long as they’re not like… being stupid they can try and find her. She’s… a lot more than she was, Wren. Not really sure there is anyone here who could catch or bind her if she doesn’t agree to it. And that includes you.”

 

A long pause, and Wren whispers. “She was never anything but sweet, but those soul tails did almost lash out that first day. Would she hurt them?”

 

I huff and let some repressed fury spark and flare a bit. “No. But… I’d still ask them to stay away. Let her enjoy the happiness she’s found and… and come find them when she’s ready.”

 

Wren ripples again, then nods. “You… you go find a quiet place to simmer down. I’ll tell them what you said, and you can warn her lovers if needed.”

 

I nod and feel so much worry dissipate. “Thank you Wren. So much. I… I love you. You know? I’d be such a mess without you.”

 

 

 

 

 

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