Hello friends and lovers!!!!

Welcome to Arc 3!

To Break a Blight Weaver

 

Content Warnings:

 

I know what she’s going to say. Or… what she’s going to ask. Long before she finally settles into the words to use.

 

“Lyra…” My mother begins. Soul a thrum with… not confidence but… a sort of reflexive sense that this might be the right moment. “Awnya mentioned that you had needed some help remembering your Fae song. But… That she didn’t really know the entire thing and that you were struggling with it.”

 

Careful. So very gently testing the waters she knows could set to boil at the wrong words.

 

I huff. Both glad that she’s finally brought up the courage to ask. But also… not really sure how to answer her when the heart of this is laid bare.

 

We’ve spent this first week settling each of my family into a separate garden after Tretion and Awnya had explained a bit about what’s happened and where they are. Helping them introduce themselves to the manor and understand the bubbles it provides. Both had very different reactions.

 

Mother had a type of odd annoyance at something being able to possibly muddle her songworkings with its constantly watching everything but… Awnya had the right melodies to show her how wonderful this home is. How it's kinda like building a house in the shell of a great big turtle with more space than it knows what to do with. It may be aware of our nonsense but… it thinks with turtle thoughts. Will only really care when endangered or asked.

 

And once I thought to ask Tretion to bring some of the Brumbling Bees and Wibble Wasps before asking her to help them thrive, mom settled and got really excited at all the little things that needed tending to.

 

Usete… hasn’t done much with the one gifted to them. They’ve wove some neat songs and helped the garden grow easier, of course. But… They were more like Awnya and wanted to explore things. Have let their feet take them farther than I can! Tried to actually… like… meet the people here and devote themselves to weaving melodies that can help them. They didn’t have problems with the manor, exactly, just got really curious. Have tried to ask it questions and engage it more.

 

I’d be worried if they tried to pester it. But they seem okay to wait a few days between answers to even simple exchanges of greetings.

 

“Th– thank. B– b– but N– no.” I murmur and move to stand. Done trying to weave a better home for this incoming clutch of little bugs I’ve been trying to help her with.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with needing help with it.” She keeps her fingers moving but… eyes lean up to regard me. “My own mother had to remind me of mine a couple of times.”

 

Don’t need to even touch her soul to see the questions and worry and… and deep thrumming fury beneath it all. An anger I’m not used to sensing in my mother.

 

At me? Maybe. I… I don’t think so but… my first body was something she helped weave. Gave ideas and literally held my hands as the old flesh was melted and torn away. And to see it just… all messed up and scarred must be so upsetting.

 

Or… at another? The one who let it happen and loved poking and prodding and even biting at them sometimes. Just… loving to drink in my suffering in my worst moments.

 

Like that first night we left Raska’s Rift…

 

I’d… I’d just… stopped.

 

 

As Bulderii went off to do something stupid Thendra and I both returned to that old wretchedly wonderful manor in Theradas. My Dark Goddess just ruffled my hair and left me swaying in the middle of the bedroom as she went off to take a cold bath.

 

Leaving me to drown in the memories of all the lovers I just couldn’t stop hurting.

 

She came back to find me curled up in the same spot and digging talons into my burned flesh. Suddenly overwhelmed like… like I had been with my right talon many years ago. But… unwilling to even try and heal it. Devoted to keeping this blighted reminder against my stupid desires.

 

I… I expected Thendra to stop me. Or get mad. But she did worse.

 

She laughed.

 

Such a… a thing that still fills me with such dreadful longing. Wove big strong fingers through my short hair and forced me to look at her. Amwella curling around her prize as she purred so softly. “Would you like me to drag all of their shards from your soul, My Lyra?”

 

I could do nothing but grit my teeth so hard a few chipped. Glared and… and nodded. My own soul thrumming in spite and fury, fear and pain and… and beginning to echo with that old Dreadsong I’d wailed to break the Dream that keeps taking everything from me.

 

Except her.

 

And so I let that Dark Goddess once again Reave old parts of another’s flame from my Amwella. Leaving me more broken and near death than the first time. Can’t… can’t even remember any pleasure in that night!!! Or… or so many others. How… how whatever pleasure was there just… it was smothered by pain.

 

… And yet still I burn to return to that wretched woman’s embrace.

 

 

 

“Why haven’t you healed yourself, Little Girl?” My mother presses so much more gently than I expect.

 

I shake my head. “D– d– doesn’t m–mm– matter.”

 

She winces, formally halts her little humming song and sets aside the nest. “Why not?”

 

I sigh and look away. So… so tempted leave this. To run. Tretion and Awnya let me if… if things get too much. Some questions are just so exhausting and hard to answer!!! Or they won’t understand them and that’s almost worse. Especially when they’ve done nothing but TRY to understand.

 

Never once blaming me for all my stupid mistakes.

 

“R– re– rr– re– mm– mind– ing.” Is the best I can do.

 

“A reminder?”

 

I nod, keeping my eyes away but… I can see her soul pulse with anger and assumptions.

 

“Of what?” She almost growls. “And from who?”

 

Amwella tendrils spread out and flex. Wriggle in annoyance at this. But… Wanting to get it dealt with.

 

I glance down to glare at my burned and blackened talon. “St– stupid.”

 

She shakes her head. “You’re not stupid. Never that. Maybe… a little distractible sometimes. But you’ve always been too clever and stubborn by half.”

 

I don’t reply.

“I…” My mother stops, and takes a bit of a deep breath as she works to settle her conflicted soul. “Lyra, I will never forgive myself for not talking with you about your past. Both when you were still learning your Fae songs and… and after you and Usete came back to me.” I look back to see her face covered in such sadness and guilt. “I’ve come to realize that we aren’t, The Fae I mean, good at healing certain things. Even things much less horrible than what happened to you. I… I just thought that good songs and peace would do it. But I was wrong. Healing isn’t like singing a home from a kind tree, it’s messy and painful and it’s not a straight line.”

 

She’s not wrong but… I mean Awnya told her that I remembered more than she thought and… and I’d avoided talking with her about it all because like… why? What’s the point of it?

 

All I deserved.

 

“A– and?” I huff.

 

“And… Everyone's different. Both in the scars and the way they can be helped.” She winces, and her pain deepens. “Sometimes those wounds will never heal, and the person has to learn to live around them. Usete taught me that, more than anyone.”

 

I feel the blood drain from my face as my heartbeat grows loud in my ears.

 

“Lyra I…” She sees my reaction. “I… that’s… You were just trying to protect yourself. I’m not saying otherwise. They… they just struggled and… and I never thought I’d need to learn how to help one of my own like that!”

 

“Y– yeh.” I whisper as talons dig into flesh. “S– sorry.”

 

She does move then, but… stops. “I… would you like me to come to you?”

 

I consider that, and shake my head. But do plop back down on the grass.

 

“I… I was trying to explain a thing and stumbled into hurting you again.” She whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

 

I sigh and shrug. “It o– oke.”

 

She huffs. “It’s not but… Thank you. Give me another decade of actually trying and I’ll get a little better at all this.”

 

A pause, and I move up to pip-pat her hand. “Th– thank. F– for tr– t– trying.”

 

“You're welcome, Little girl.” She smiles, less sadness in it this time. “But… I want you to know that I do remember the song you wove for yourself, if you need it.”

 

I lean back and look away. “Mebe l– later. Mm– mebe.”

 

She tilts her head in worry but… doesn’t push. “Okay. And… and I’d also like to help you get your voice back.”

 

That makes me jolt to a stop, turn to give her such a look of confusion.

 

“Don't you remember? It was so hard for you to talk when we first met.” Her worry twists to have at least a bit of a smile. “All those days spent with me tricking you into singing with me? How eventually your melodies were as clear as the brook you always begged me to let you swim in?”

 

What?

 

My brow furrows as I slowly shake my head. Thinking back to… to try and remember my first years with her. Before I could finish weaving my body and how she was trying to teach me both Fae words and… and…

 

And how to talk and sing well.

 

My shaking head turns to a nodding as some of those old memories return. Painful and almost fresh. Like a game. She’d draw me to feel the words before I spoke them. Ignore the nonsense and just… sing.

 

First stupid ugly broken human words but… but always becoming more Fae.

 

More perfect. Clear and soft and… and without too much trouble.

 

“B– but…” I whisper, curling tighter as the memories flood back.

 

All the silly little songs we’d shared. How… how I only near the end realized just why they mattered so much. All the subtle melodies weaving so well to help me figure out how to get words to come out easily.

 

“D– d– diff– er– ent. N– ow.”

 

“Of course.” She agrees and scoots just a little closer. “But… also a bit the same. Pain and horrible experiences made speaking hard then, and… now as well. I think.”

 

I look down to glare at my flesh. “B– be– be– ca– cause H– hu– human.”

 

“No. I don’t think so. You’ve always been more Fae than anyone else I’ve known. And If anything, you being Fae makes this worse. You’ve always been so good at turning your desires and Dreams into real things. But that also includes pain. If you believe that suffering is part of what you think you deserve, it's hard for you to reject it.”

 

I jerk up to start at her then. Eyes going wide with tears as my mother so easily speaks that old litany of mine. How naked my mind and soul are to her.

 

“B– but… it is.” I whisper thoughtlessly. “All I de– de– ser– ve.”

 

She sighs and reaches out, lays a hand on a wretched talon. “Everyone deserves to share their soul’s songs.”

 

I bite my lip, and look down to stare at her hand over mine.

 

“Will you let me help you again, little girl?” She whispers. “I’d like nothing better than to hear my daughter’s wonderful voice again. Unbroken and clear. Able to share with me whatever she needs to weave out from her soul.”

 

Can’t stop the tears then, or speak. But… I do eventually nod.

 

And I let the wonderful woman who adopted the girl that is me help once again.

 

*     *     *

 

“FAE USETE!” I roar and let my spark hiss and whirl about me.

 

[Burn and bite and smother and crush and drink wretched SOUL SPITTING SONG STEALING OATH BREAKING–]

 

The crowd freezes, and the Fae jerks to glance over their shoulder at me. But… otherwise remains kneeling at the fallen girl’s side, continuing their low humming melody.

 

“End. Your. Song.” I hiss each word as I approach. “NOW.”

 

Letting spark roil out and about me like a cloak, flames slowly writhing out to surround this Fae and I from the now quickly dispersing crowd. Flames easily eating the echoing song before it can reach them.

 

“Duenna Raska!” Comes a shout from a woman rising from beside them to face me. “It’s… They’re helping her!!!”

 

I jerk to a stop. Senses jerking between the unconscious girl and the horrid Fae.

 

Watch in teeth-grinding fury as their song winds their Amwella down into that girl’s soul. All five flames howling for me to engulf this Fae in death.

 

“She has these jerking attacks. A sickness that… that overtakes her!” The woman stammers out as she moves to raise hands and stand between us. “They’re helping calm them and… and maybe more!”

 

I stop and fight to reign in my fury, slowly calm my flames to simply act as a low heated barrier to keep the sound of their song contained.

 

No. Matron Tretion demanded we refrain from killing anyone. I growl at them, then turn to my first. Peva, keep them quiet.

 

He growls in annoyance, but… turns that ire toward his fellow sparks.

 

Usete takes a bit but… soon the girl in the Fae’s arms is awake and seems okay. A bit disoriented but… well enough.

 

“Is she stable enough to head home?” I ask them.

 

The woman nods and looks worried between me and Usete as they stand and turn.

 

“Should be.” The Fae replies. “I’d like to check in later b–”

 

“Good.” I cut them off, drawing my flames back to their spot between my horns. “Come with me.”

 

“I… As you wish.” They murmur.

 

And I lead them quickly from the streets to one of the service doors. Pull out my keyring, and move us into the empty hallway.

 

“Two sections, Fae Usete.” I hiss as I slam the door shut.

 

“Everflame Raska she wa–”

 

“Duenna Raska.” I correct them with a hiss and move past. “And you don’t get to claim that. You’re not a Fae moving between Rifts at your leisure anymore. Ignoring all laws and limits, doing whatever you please. When your host gives you a boundary, you don’t walk past it.”

 

They quicken their pace to catch up. “Her lover came to me. I was just… it was barely within that community, duenna Raska.”

 

“Was she on the brink of death?”

 

“I… no.”

 

“Then this could have waited.” I growl. “You could have arranged for them to come to you or… or asked a duenna for help. Anything but breaking one of the few promises our Matron insisted you keep.”

 

They remain silent for a long while. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware th–”

 

“That you’d get caught?” I spit. “That you wouldn’t be able to just Songweave the manor into keeping this from us? That there are REASONS she demanded this of you!!!”

 

“I genuinely did not think it would cause you or anyone this much anger. Not when I was healing one of your residents.” They murmur.

 

“Dreadweave’s Bane.” I growl as we reach a door. I use another key to open another passageway. This one to a large room filled to bursting with a forest within. The private fucking place gifted to an honored guest. “Don’t leave until either the Matron, Awnya, or their manor gives you permission.”

 

I settle my most scolding of a glare on them, and with the purse of their lips I expect the Fae to… I don’t know. Argue or demand to speak with Matron Tretion or Awnya but… no. They nod and move past. Even try to speak another apology as I slam the door in their face. Let the lock settle before I just…

 

SCREAM!

 

Howl my fury and pain and spite and AND DESIRE TO SEE THAT STUPID FAE BROKEN AND LAID TO CINDERS!!!

 

And almost all five of my flames are happy to ignite with me.

 

But… We’re more controlled than ever. Even at this moment. Flames only scorch a little of the hallways around as blue iridescence drowns everything for a few seconds. So easily repaired by this amazing manor with but a burp of curiosity for my rage, even before my spark snaps back to me in a sudden and hard display of control.

 

The memories only flicker, which is nice. Most are… Are from after anyway. The shame and pain and… and horrid feelings of a different Fae’s itching song draining away as they moved to leave.

 

My sudden pleading for them to… to help me change met with just soft laughter and a smirk.

 

“You’re cute just like you are, little Cinderkin.” They purred, little songs of settling touching my mind and smothering my anything but empty enjoyment of their praise as their eyes rolled up and down my old naked form. “Enjoy the body you got. I know I did.”

 

And then they left me. Took me hours to recover. To… to realize what they did to me. Amwella had only just sparked a few weeks before and… and I’d… I’d…

 

Even took my mothers years to understand why I hated the Fae and… and even tease at apologizing for not understanding. How they just… thought that their overly angry child needed a blazing headmate.

 

I let out another scream at that. This current one less a burst of fury followed by an ignition that would have burned my old manor to cinders and… more a pained snarl that drags itself into a wail of pain. At… at how long it took me and Peva to understand each other. How for so long we only shared a burning rage. Fought and bit and tore at each other and the flames we gathered. Only in later years as he began to share words with me was I finally able to explain and… and start the path to discover how to burn and melt my flesh into the right shapes.

 

So much of… of me wants to do what my sisters did. Surrender myself and just… burn. Let one of these Eversparks take control while I stop being for a while. See if that smothers the pain.

 

Stone fingers dig into flesh, chalky blood dribbles…

 

[Challa…] Pevatorii rumbles, fury drowned to cinders as he thrums. [Ember yourself.]

 

I sputter at his comforts. Such a warm roiling of real love for the girl he was wrapped throughout. Even… even uses that old word I’ve only heard thrice before.

 

“Right. I… I can’t lose control.” I hiss. “Not again. Never again. Not… not here!”

 

[Cold soul?] He proposes.

 

Wren?

 

“I… I’m not sure.” I stammer. “I need to let Matron Tretion know about this and… and then go check on those girls to make sure the Fae didn’t do anything else and–”

 

[House’s Flame will tell her.] He presses. [Go. Before an eruption we cannot contain strikes.]

 

I pause and… Oh.

 

Oh fuck! Even the four others are chiming at the rising pain and fury that I’m not sure I can stop. Not on my own… Yeah, I need to move.

 

Focus on Peva, let him handle some of the simple things. More control than I’d normally give one of the five but… I can trust him. He’s never betrayed me. Is the only flame to ever encourage me to stop and think about a problem rather than burn it.

 

Keys opening this same door to our section. Move through the streets with nothing but a blank expression and sizzling spark. Even wear simple smiles to a few people who recognize me and give simple greetings.

 

Wish we could just… Shift to her. Like before. But… Matron Tretion said something about how it wasn’t safe. That it won’t work the same here.

 

Because we’re apparently inside the belly of some big monster swimming through an ocean of Blight.

 

That… I’m not sure I believe her? But… she’s nothing but truthful so… but that’s one of the most insane things I’d ever heard. And also a little too terrifying to think about for more than a few seconds.

 

[Here.] Peva prompts, and we look up to see our little odd home amidst these twisting streets.

 

Wren’s upstairs sleeping. Slime body curled into such a cute gerlthing shaped puddle on our big bed. Green form flickering with sea-blue hues, indicating that she’s fast asleep. We hesitate at the bed’s edge, spark whirring and sputtering as… as…

 

I don’t want to wake her…

 

Peva moves our form a step closer. [Join her form, ember yourself, smother pain.]

 

“W– wren.” We whisper, halting.

 

She ripples and stirs, midnight black eyes popping back into place slowly. “Puh?”

 

“I… Can you…” I try to force out.

 

“Wha?” She murples as eyes seem to drift back into sleep.

 

“Ember our Raska.” Peva thrums through my lips.

 

That startles her to swirl into an upright pose. Still sleepy as all the Dead Cinders but… Only twice before has she heard our first flame speak through my lips.

 

Obsidian gaze locks on me, quickly takes in my pose and hissing spark and trembling form.

 

“Sorry.” we whisper.

 

“It’s fine. C’mere.” She murmurs softly while sliding herself over to just… just…

 

Absorb my everything.

 

“What do you need?” She whispers as her cool form wraps us. Chilled fingers dancing through messy hair as lips brush against my neck. Her body both soft and solid.

 

“To BURN.” We hiss.

 

“Then do it.” She offers, and engulfs me just before that third scream erupts from our lips. What would have been an eruption of pain powerful enough to level this building… kept within her unyielding form.

 

The only sign of it’s passing the trembling girlthing my lover embraces close through our agony.

 

 

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